Garramond stiffened, clearly not used to being spoken to like that. Vanessa’s nostrils flared, her composure cracking just a fraction.
“Could you just go?” Callum said, wrapping an arm around Alejandra, pulling her closer. “You’re making everyone uncomfortable. I’m here with my family, my friends, mygirlfriend.You’re none of that anymore. And that’s on you.”
Vanessa held his gaze for a second too long—something bitter flickering there—before she turned on her heel without another word.
“Bye,” Alejandra called sweetly, giving a small wave. “Careful with the heels. Rocks can be tricky.”
Callum let out a breath, tension slowly leaving his shoulders. He glanced at his mother, who had gone back to the fire, sitting beside his taid, who seemed blissfully unaware of the entire scene. Alejandra noticed how her shoulders were stiff and how she had disappeared from the argument the moment that harpy had called her out. She had read enough books to puzzle things together. Callum’s taid must be right in his memory loss—his father was a surfer, and she prayed he wasn’t Mick, because how could she excuse a man she had always considered an example from leaving a fifteen years old girl alone with a child? Maybe he was young too, inexperienced, scared but still—he had years to make up for it.
“I’m sorry,” Callum muttered, brushing away her machinations. “She’s always needed to be the center of attention.”
“Don’t worry.” Alejandra smiled. “I can handle a bit of bitching.” She nudged him lightly. “Now… should we enjoy tonight?”
“Yes, please.” He leaned down and kissed her deeply, grounding himself again. “There’s something I want to show you about Calan Mai tonight.”
The way he said it—low, just for her—made her stomach flip.
“I love traditions,” she grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck, fingers slipping into his hair.
“Thank you for being here.”
Alejandra snorted softly. “We’re endgame.” Then she tilted her head. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did you ever support her far-right ideas?”
Callum looked genuinely disgusted. “God, no. I think it’s fucking idiotic. They’ve taken the beauty of Wales and twisted it into propaganda. And people—some people—actually listen to that shit. It pisses me off.” He shook his head. “She broke up with me, but I was already halfway out. I couldn’t be with someone who thinks where you’re born makes you worth more or less than anyone else.”
Alejandra studied him for a moment. Yeah. She was completely gone for this man. “Could you be any more perfect?”
He smirked slightly, leaning closer. “If you let me do what I want to do to you tonight… then probably yes, love.”
54
CALLUM
noche de san juan - Hey Kid
Bonfires were litalong the beach, but he knew a place where he could take Alejandra—just for a moment alone—to make her forget the ocean, the shoulder, the injury. And for him to forget the conversation with his taid and now, Vanessa’s stupid remarks. He hadn’t missed how his mother had sagged her shoulder, turned around, embarrassed probably. And why did she mention who his father was to Vanessa, and not him? How did she find out?
Callum shook his head. Right now, he couldn’t make that a priority.
He refocused his attention on Alejandra sitting next to him around the fireplace, lost in a chat with Rhiannon. She’d jumped across the fire with a bright, bold smile, and even without asking, he knew what she had burned, what she was leaving behind. He, on the other hand, hadn’t figured out what he’d burn.
His taid’s illness? Impossible.
Vanessa still giving him crap? Not relevant enough.
His relationship with Alejandra? God, no.
His father’s identity? Mmh, maybe he wanted to know now.
Maybe work.
Maybe how damn good it felt to not sit through meetings, not live in spreadsheets, not be boxed into a life in London. Maybe he’d ask Leif and Asma about working remotely or for that full sabbatical Leif was so eager to give him. Because wherever Alejandra went, he wanted to follow. He knew she was it. His future. And she needed to understand that.
An alert about a missing kid had briefly rippled through the beach—false alarm, quickly resolved—but it had left his taid weirdly unsettled. He kept asking around if the kid had been found, and even though they had been repeating it several times his brain clearly hadn't registered the information. It hadn’t stayed, and he looked around with wide eyes, as if he was trying to spot the missing kid already in his parents’ arms.
