He motions for me to go ahead of him, and I can barely feel his fingers ghosting against my lower back as he follows behind me. It’s a small touch, but it feels bigger. It feelsnormal. Like it used to. I swallow down the emotions trying to claw their way up my throat and step up to the counter.
“Hi there.” A beautiful dark-haired barista smiles at me from behind the register. “Ready for another one?”
I glance over at Callum, but he doesn’t react to her words.
“Uh, yes, please. I’ll take a decaf this time, though.”
“Good call. Eight shots of espresso might be just a little too much.” She punches my order into the tablet, then looks at Callum. “And for you, Mr. Keller?”
Does she know him? Does he come here often? It’s a possibility since the shop is located smack between my hotel and his apartment.
“I’ll do a butter pecan Americano with half-and-half. And two muffins, please. One chocolate and one blueberry.”
I smile.He remembered.
I’ve always been a sucker for anything chocolate, and I’ve been eyeing those muffins since I first walked in, especially since I haven’t eaten anything today. I’ve been too nervous to do so. I grab my card from my wallet, ready to hand it to the barista as she rattles off our order, but it’s snatched out of my hand before I even realize what’s happening.
“Hey!” I protest, glaring up at Callum.
He doesn’t spare a glance my way, instead handing his own card to the bubbly worker, who smiles through the whole interaction before returning the black card to my husband.
“I can buy my own stuff, you know,” I say once she’s busy grabbing our snacks.
“I know.”
“So then why didn’t you let me pay?”
“Because,” he says, shoving his wallet back into his pocket, “you’re still my wife, Chloe. You’ve never had to pay for anything before, and I’m not about to let you do it now.”
He says it so simply, like it makes all the sense in the world. I want to tell him that’s a sexist way of thinking, but I’m too busy trying to get my heart to calm down.You’re still my wife, Chloe.I haven’t felt like his wife in a long time, but hearing the words now doesn’t make me feel like that in the slightest.
We don’t speak again until we’re back at the table, our drinks and snacks sitting between us, Callum’s long legs barely fitting beneath the booth’s table.
“We can sit somewhere else if that works better for you.”
“I’m fine,” he says, though I know he’s full of shit as he shifts around, trying to get comfortable.
I let him have his lie, though. I’m too eager for my chocolate muffin. Silence lingers between us as we both dive in, and the only sounds are our forks scraping against the plates and slurps from sipping on our hot drinks. I would say it’s because I’m so into my meal, but that’s not true. I don’t exactly know how to start this conversation we so desperately need to have.
But I guess Callum does, because he’s the first to speak.
“Sorry I was late.”
“It’s no problem. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Just Percy being a pain in my ass. He has to take allergy meds, and he didn’t want to play nice this morning.” He holds up a tattooed hand—one I used to love watching trace over my body—and shows off a fresh scrape along the back of it. “For only having three legs, he’s still scrappy.”
“Something you two can bond over, I suppose.”
He pauses his fork mid-bite, tipping his head to the side in silent question.
“Because you fight a lot,” I explain.
A grin curves his lips as he settles back against the booth, chewing his food slowly before he says, “You still watching my games, Clover?”
I couldn’t hide the blush that creeps up my cheeks if I tried.
“Shut up,” I mutter, balling up my napkin and tossing it at him.
