He texted. Callum texted.
Even after he said he would, I wasn’t sure. I hoped, of course, but I couldn’t be certain. Reading him was next to impossible.
I scoot back on the bed until my back rests against the three pillows pushed up against the headboard and read the message three times.
Callum: I’m not sure how long you’re planning on staying, but I could do coffee on Thursday.
Thursday. It’s only Tuesday. That’s too much time to imagine all the ways this could go wrong, and I have a very active imagination.
My first instinct is to tell him no, to make up some excuse and claim I have to leave early, to run…again. But Talia is right. It’s time I face this thing.
Me: I’ll be here still. Thursday works for me.
Callum: Is two okay? I have to sign a few things after practice.
Me: Two works for me.
God, Chloe. Works for me? Is that all you can say? Ugh.
Me: I mean, yeah, two is great.
Callum: See you then.
Me: Cool
“Cool?” I groan at my own foolishness, then watch the screen for anything else.
Little dots appear like he’s typing, but after two solid minutes of staring at the screen, nothing comes through. I toss the device aside, then rub the heels of my hands over my eyes, trying to brush away just how embarrassing that was.
It’s amazing how I can do so many remarkable things like travel the world solo, make connections, and write articles for prestigious papers, but the second a cute boy comes around, I turn right back into an insecure teenager.
Then again, I don’t think that feeling has ever left me. Not even after Callum and I got married, or after he joined the NHL. He was…well, he washim—a professional hockey player with a larger-than-life career, thousands of people cheering his name in arenas all over. He was a superstar, and I was just Chloe, the girl who still blushed every time he smiled at me. I never felt like I was good enough, and in a lot of ways, I still don’t.
My phone chimes again, and I rush to grab it, my heart in my throat as I read the new message.
Callum: I’m really looking forward to seeing you, Clover.
Clover.
Even over text, the nickname sends a shiver down my spine, and it’s hard to imagine a time when I said I hated it. I didn’t then, and I don’t now.
Me: Me too.
And I mean those two words more than I’ve meant anything in a long, long time.
This time, no dots appear, and when nothing has come through an hour later, I accept the fact that he’s not going to text again. I peel myself off the bed so I can try to get some sort of work done, but I still spend the rest of the day checking my phone, hoping to hear from my husband again.
CHAPTER 7
SERPENTS SINGLES GROUP CHAT
Lawson: Sooo…are we going to discuss the elephant in the room or not?
Hayes: Not.
Fox: Elephants don’t get enough love in the animal kingdom. Really cool creatures. Not as amazing as turtles, but still.
Lawson: Your turtle obsession is starting to get a little weird, Foxy. Those photos of you walking into the last game wearing your Turtley Cool socks are still all over my feed.
