“About?”
I shake my head. “Nothing important.”
He studies me, as if he knows there’s more, but doesn’t push. Instead, he lifts my chin and kisses me. A kiss that says he wants me here. Wants me, full stop.
But want and longevity aren’t the same.
The agent returns, and we finish the walk-through. Callum asks thoughtful questions while I try not to spiral. He thanks the agent, tells him he’ll be in touch, and takes my hand as we head back to the car.
“So?” he asks, sliding into the driver’s seat, eyes on me.
“It’s beautiful,” I say honestly. “I think you’d be happy there.”
His smile softens. “That matters to me.”
I look at our joined hands. “I’m glad you’re doing something that feels right for you.”
“I am,” he says, lifting my hand to kiss my knuckles. “And I want you with me for all of it.”
Hope blooms so abruptly it almost hurts.
Then my phone buzzes.
Once.
Twice.
Three times before I even pull it free.
Callum’s expression darkens. “Don’t look.”
“I should,” I whisper.
“No. You shouldn’t have to.”
But letting fear fester feels worse. I unlock my phone. Talia’s newest story is a selfie of her crying dramatically, mascara smudged, captioned:
Imagine building a life with someone only to watch him throw it away for a girl who doesn’t understand him the way you do.
It’s manipulative. Absurd. And yet something cold slides down my spine.
Callum sees my face instantly. “Rose,”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
He turns my chin toward him. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. I’m here.”
His voice is steady, grounding, and for a moment it anchors me. But the doubts still claw. How long until the internet decides I’m not enough? How long until the noise wears him down? Until someone like Talia convinces the world he made a mistake?
I tuck my phone away and lean into him. He pulls me across the console until I’m practically in his lap, arms banded around me, lips pressed to my hairline. “I choose you,” he murmurs into my hair. “Every day, Rose. No matter what she posts. No matter what anyone says.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I want to believe him. God, I want to. But sometimes love feels fragile in the face of a world determined to shatter it. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive breaking.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CALLUM
The city lights smear across the windscreen, and I steal glances at her, the soft curve of her jaw, the way her fingers drape over the edge of the seat, restless and tense. She’s quiet, but I can feel the weight of everything Talia’s dragging into our lives. I reach over and brush a strand of hair from her face. She leans into my hand a fraction, and it sets something hot and tight in my chest.
