Page 18 of The Broken Keys

Me:You? Doing Pilates? That’s a visual I can’t unsee.

Callum:Not Pilates. But Guns made me try yoga once. I lasted seven minutes before pulling something I didn’t even know I had.

Me:Sounds about right. And let me guess. He wanted to try it because he thought you two would meet a couple of flexible women you could take out.

Callum:That’s not why I went. But if you had been there, I would’ve stayed.

Me:Likely story.

Callum:Not a story. It’s the truth.

Another buzz follows before I can even set the phone down.

Callum:Also, don’t kill yourself trying to do everything in one day. You’ve already conquered enough this week.

The words hold me still. He doesn’t just throw compliments; he notices.

Me:You’ve turned into quite the nurturer.

Callum:Nah. Just a man who wants to make sure you eat, breathe, and remember you’re not alone.

Something inside me fractures at that. I press the phone against my chest for a heartbeat before I answer.

Me:Thank you. That means more than you know.

Callum:Good, because I meant it. And if you need a distraction later, I’ll bring dessert to your office or your new digs. Your choice.

Me:Dessert? That’s your grand romantic gesture?

Callum:Depends on what you pick. If it’s pie, I’ll even let you steal the bigger slice.

Me:Generous.

Callum:You know me. Always giving.

I roll my eyes, but my lips curve anyway.

Me:You’re fishing for compliments now.

Callum:Just reminding you how things used to be.

Heat coils low in my stomach. He’s not wrong.

Me:I’m surprised you remember. It’s been five years. You could have the details wrong.

Callum:I remember everything about you.

I place my hand over my heart.

Jesus, what’s he doing to me?

Me:You’re different now.

Callum:Is that good or bad?

Me:Good.

The typing bubble appears, disappears, then reappears.