“It means,” I said, pointing a finger at him. “Do not get jealous about irrelevant people.”
“I’m not jealous!” Cal argued, though he crossed his arms defensively. “I just… I knew she wasn’t right for you! See? Even your uncle knew!”
“Here we go,” I sighed, looking at Scott and Maverick, who were both grinning.
“He’s got a point, Si,” Maverick laughed, clapping Cal on the back. “She was terrible. Welcome to the family, son.”
30
APRIL - THE REED LAND, NORTH CAROLINA
Now playing: Drunk On You - Luke Bryan
Thesoundofacamera clicking and a flash woke me. My eyes fluttered open slowly, the morning sunlight peeking through the dark curtains across from my bed. I groaned when I noticed Cal wasn’t next to me. The bed was cold where he’d slept. I rolled over, covering my face from the blinding gold light making itself comfortable in my space.
“Did you break something?” I mumbled into the pillow. I knew Cal was in here; I just didn’t see where.
Coming home after everything was a blur. Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but the memory really wasn’t that sharp. By the time Cal and I got into my house, we went straight to bed. I didn’t even get the chance to show him the house, the house I remodeled and tried to make feel more like mine than my family’s, all while lost in a daydream that maybe one day, he’d see it.
And here we were. He was here. In this house that I wanted to turn into a home with him.
“No,” he said, and the bed shifted beside me. “I’m playing with old memories.”
I lifted my head to see Cal. He was wearing my buffalo plaid pajama pants that I’d stripped out of before we fell asleep last night. His legs were crossed, and in his hands was the Polaroid camera I bought all those years ago to take photos of us together without the fear of them ever being seen. He was smiling, and Jesus, I couldn’t help but notice the look in his eyes right now. It was so… alive. Full of love. And it was all for me.
“You took a picture of me sleeping?” I groaned, wincing at the morning sunlight pouring onto my face.
Cal nodded as he leaned down and kissed my lips. “I saw it on the dresser last night when you fell asleep. I had to do it. You used to take them of me sleeping all the time,” he said, handing me the little square piece of film that was still developing, but clear enough to make out that it was me, curled up in bed, totally dead to the world.
How attractive.
“That is an awful picture of me! I’m pretty sure I’m drooling in it,” I said with a sleepy groan.
Cal laughed at me. “So? You used to get awful pictures of me all the time and I never protested.”
I glared at him. Okay, maybe he was right. I used to take photos of him every chance I got; there was no way to resist it. Callum had always been the most perfect creation in my mind, and marveling at him in photos may have been my favorite pastime in our early twenties.
“There was never a bad picture of you,” I countered as I flung the blanket off my body and pulled myself to my feet. I headed directly over to the closet, opening the door and pulling a shoebox down off the shelf. I walked back over to Cal, who was now staring at me with a smirk, but also a hint of confusion. I handed him the box as I climbed back onto the bed, rubbing my eyes, desperately hoping it would cause my brain to wake up fully.
Cal opened the lid, and his mouth fell open just a bit as he looked at the contents. This box used to haunt me like a ghost. It plagued my mind with regret, heartache, and the god-awful reminder that my stupid decisions led to me losing the one person in my life I needed and wanted the most: him.
Herummaged through it a beat, observing the memories of a past life we once lived. The first thing he pulled out was the key card from the hotel in Miami. The place where I kissed him for the first time. The place that changed our lives forever.
“Where was this from?” he asked with a confused laugh.
I stared at him for a beat, anxiously biting my bottom lip. This was either about to be the most pathetic confession of my life, or the most endearing to him. Knowing Cal, I wasn’t going to have the answer to that question until after he made fun of me for it first.
“Miami,” I said in a near whisper. The admission felt even more pathetic now.
His eyes widened as he looked at the little plastic card in his hand, then back at me. “You—you kept this?” he asked, trying to mask the small hitch in his voice.
I nodded. “That was the night I knew I was royally fucked,” I admitted.
Tears welled in his eyes as he hesitated to respond, still holding the old key card, the memories washing over him just like they were washing over me.
“What do you mean you were fucked?” Cal asked.
“Because I knew the moment I kissed you, there was no going back for me. Not in this life, not in any other.”
