“You want a snack? Coffee?”
I shake my head.
“No. I think I just want to be alone.”
She grabs my arm gently. “No. Don’t do this. Don’t pull away from me.”
I look into her concerned eyes.
“I’m not,” I lie, forcing a smile.
“You are. You’re projecting that calm, Stepford wife demeanor. Which is how I know you’re absolutely not calm.”
I exhale slowly.
Just tell her.
Open up.
“Drew knows.”
Her entire body tightens. “Everything?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my god.” She grabs my hand and pulls me to the couch. “Okay. That’s fine. We can work with that.”
I stare at her. “…We?”
“Obviously,” she says. “I’ve been invested in this from the beginning.”
“I didn’t ask you to be.”
“And yet, here I am.”
I sink onto the couch. “He didn’t handle it well,” I say quietly. “He needed space.”
Callie’s expression freezes. “And you gave it to him?” she asks incredulously.
“Yes.”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s not how this works.”
“That’s exactly how this works.”
“No, it isn’t,” she argues. “You go back. Right now.”
I stare at her. “And do what?”
She blinks at me like the answer is obvious. “Kidnap him.”
I blink. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not joking,” she says, completely serious. “You go back, you tie him up, and you explain—very calmly—that you’re not leaving.”
I stare at her.
“…And you wonder why you almost had a restraining order against you.”
