He slips into the kitchen and makes quick work of the cork on a bottle of red wine I recognize as being the same one we ordered during that first dinner. After pouring some into two glasses, he hands me one.
“To our last night together. Thanks for making this past week one of the best in recent memory.”
Clinking my glass with his, I then take a slow sip of my wine. I do my best to mask how much I hate the idea of this being our last night together, since he doesn’t seem the least bit upset about it.
I’m probably just another in a long line of women he’s met in his travels who he’ll now walk away from without a single look back.
I can’t fault him for it. When we started down this path, I knew the score. Knew we’d go back to our lives when it was over. I can’t be mad that he doesn’t show any sign of not wanting this to end. I’m the one who wants to change the rules.
“It smells delicious,” I comment in an attempt to think about something else. “You don’t strike me as the type who spends much time in the kitchen.”
“Haven’t you learned by now?” He narrows his eyes, a seductive gleam within.
“What’s that?”
He loops his free arm around me and nuzzles my neck. “I’m just full of surprises, Ms. Holley.” He doesn’t immediately pull back, lingering long enough to jumpstart my libido. “But you’re right.” He abruptly drops his hold on me. “I typically don’t spend much time in the kitchen. Don’t get me wrong,” he adds quickly. “I’m not a horrible cook. I can make a pretty decent steak. But I want tonight to be special.”
“Why?” I ask, almost hoping he’ll tell me he’s doing all of this because he doesn’t want this to end, either. That he wants to find a way to make it work, despite all the obstacles between us.
For a split second, as he rakes his gaze over my face and a hint of that same emotion I’ve seen on occasion flickers in his eyes, I think he’s about to do just that.
Then he pushes out a breath and shakes his head. “You spend all day putting everyone else first. It’s only right I put you first tonight. Which is why I conned your chef to make dinner for us.”
“You did?”
“Of course.” With a hand on my lower back, he leads me to the table, pulling my chair out and helping me into it. Then he heads back into the kitchen, grabbing a mitt and removing a few dishes from the oven.
He returns to the table and sets one in front of me. “The plate might be a little warm. I only had it in the oven at a low temperature so it wouldn’t get cold.”
“Thank you.” I shift my gaze to my dish, my heart squeezing. “You had Jeffrey make lamb?”
Callum sits across from me and grabs my hand, our fingers intertwining. “I told you I wanted tonight to be special. I asked him to make something you’d like. Something you’ll always remember.”
“This is what my mama made on Christmas every year.” I survey the dish. “It even looks like her recipe.
Callum’s lips lift in the corners. “It is. I asked Grandma Estelle for it.”
The fact that Callum went above and beyond means more than he’ll ever know. I’ve never been with someone who actually put in this kind of effort.
Who actually seemed to care.
Not like Callum.
“Thank you,” I say with a slight quiver.
“Anything for you, Parker.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
CALLUM
“I can’t remember the last time I’ve had that recipe,” Parker says after practically licking her plate clean. “I tried making it after my mom passed away, but it never came out right. But Jeffrey…” She dabs at her lips, then takes another drink of her wine. “He did great.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” My lips lift in the corners as I admire her, wanting to etch a memory of this moment in my mind.
I hate that this is the last night I’ll get to see that smile light up her face. As I’ve reminded myself time and again, she deserves more than I can give her.
“It was amazing. Everything about tonight has been amazing, Callum. Thank you.”
