It bounces off his chest, falling into his lap. He makes no move to get rid of it. He just sits there staring at me.
“What?” I ask when I’m unable to take it any longer.
“Nothing. For a moment there, it felt like…”
He doesn’t finish his thought, but he doesn’t have to. I know what he was going to say:It felt like it used to.He’s right. It did. There was no awkwardness, no unresolved tension. It was just us.
I clear my throat, then take a sip of my coffee before setting it down. “I guess we should probably talk.”
He gives a wry laugh. “Probably.”
I shove my empty plate to the side and sit up a little straighter, pressing my shoulders back. I try to exude confidence even though I’m feeling anything but.
I’ve gotten good at faking it, though. I had to. I had grand ideas of how my internship in London would go. I would arrive in the UK, learn the public transportation system within a week at most, and make so many friends I could hardly keep up with my social calendar. I would be a different person. I could be cool and confident, and I’d finally feel like I belonged.
None of that happened, and all it did was create a bigger divide between Callum and me any time we spoke. He was still thriving without me while I was falling apart without him. It made me wonder what I was doing with him in the first place, made me question whether he’d be further in his career if not for me holding him back. Maybe he would already have a championship under his belt.
I know now how ridiculous I was for letting those thoughts creep in and plant roots, and what a mistake it was to water them. I wish I could take it all back, but what’s done is done, and what’s left are the consequences of it all.
Callum stacks his plate on top of mine, then takes a long pull from his butter pecan–flavored drink.
“How have you been?”
It’s such a simple question, and I could give him an equally simple answer, but I don’t think that’s what we need right now. We need honesty, so I give him mine.
“I’ve been better.”
His brows crush together. “What’s going on? Is that guy from the bar still bothering you?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just meant…” I release a shaky breath. “This is hard. Being here in Seattle, sitting here with you. Having coffee with you like we’re two old acquaintances. It’s just…hard.”
He doesn’t say anything right away, and even though it’s early January and still bone-numbingly cold outside, sweat peppers the back of my neck.
I try to ignore it as I force a laugh. “How have you been?”
He takes another sip from his coffee, then sets it to the side. He folds his hands together, leaning his elbows on the table as he sits forward. His honey eyes meet my own plain brown ones, and I almost forgot how intense they can be.
“Sitting across from you and not being able to kiss you is the second most difficult thing I’ve ever had to endure in my life, Clover.”
I’m almost positive I can guess what the first most difficult thing was.
“I’m not sure about us anymore. I think we should separate.”
Though I’m sure he wouldn’t believe me if I said so, that conversation pained me just as much as it did him. At the time, I believed it was for the best. Even though I’ve missed him more than I could explain, and despite it hurting him so much, I still think that.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Callum asks suddenly.
It’s the last thing I expect him to say, but it’s somehow exactly what I needed to hear.
“I would love that.”
Callum slides out of the booth, grabbing both of our plates and his empty cup. I cradle my still half-full one in my hands, trailing behind him as he stops at the trash cans. He scrapes our scraps into the bin, then tosses his coffee cup into the recycling bin. His hand falls to the small of my back once again as we walk out of the shop, and I try not to show my disappointment when it drops away once we reach the sidewalk.
We walk for several blocks without saying anything, our shoulders bumping against each other every few steps. The urge to slip my hand against his and interlock our fingers just like we used to hits me like a ton of bricks. I wonder if he feels it too.
It’s strange to be on the street with him and watch people recognize him and do double takes; I almost forgot what that was like. Callum leads us to a park without incident, and it’s a small, yet beautiful space. The flowers remind me of the ones I spent so many hours walking between in London.
I tell him that, and he looks over at me.
