Page 43 of Goode Tidings

"He wanted to be a fitness influencer." Eden rolls her eyes. "I should've known better. It's my fault, really. A twenty-five-year-old fitness influencer? I mean, come on. The story practically writes itself."

It kind of does, but not totally. There's an ending to this tale I am not going to like. "What happened?"

"One day I went to his apartment and the front door was ajar. He had some friends over. I overheard their conversation." She shrugs dismissively, but I can tell it hurt her. "You should see this MILF, bro. Bruh, you love banging the mommies." Another eye roll. "On and on, like that."

The muscles in my upper back coil. "What's his name?"

Bottle poised at Eden's mouth, she says, "Not telling. You look murderous right now." She takes a drink and lowers the bottle. "Last I heard, one of his mommies was married and the husband found out. Didn't end so well for our friend the fitness influencer."

I relax, just a little. At least someone had the opportunity to deliver a lesson to the asshole. "He had it coming."

"Agreed." Eden falls back against her seat. Her knowing gaze roams my face. "Ok, Callum No Bullshitting Goode, it's a game of one for one. Tell me why you took over a cabin that wasn't yours and spent what is likely a lot of money to fix it up."

She wants the truth? After two long years, does my mouth know how to form those sentences? "A little over two years ago, I was living in Phoenix, about to get married. My fiancée learned she was pregnant a few weeks before our wedding." Well, look at that. I can say the words.

Eden stalls at the mention of a fiancée. She waits a beat before saying, "It wasn't a joyous moment for you?"

"It would've been, if the baby were mine."

CHAPTER 21

Eden

There's a wistfulness in Callum's dark eyes. Reluctance in the strong line of his jaw. He's watching me carefully, evaluating my reaction to his admission.

"Oh, Callum." My stomach hollows out. I feel incensed on his behalf, but also like I want to hold him close. My fingers curl over my beer to keep me from tossing it to the wood floor and hauling him over the table for a hug. He looks like he could use one. A good one, too. Long and deep, front-touching and shoulder-encircling. The kind a person sinks into. "Did she⁠—"

"Cheat?" Callum's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "Yes. She did. With my best man. Who was, predictably, my best friend."

I wince. What a terrible thing to experience. Justin was an awful partner, but he never cheated. Not because he has strict morals, but because cheating takes too much work.

The top edge of the chair bites into my back, but I don't dare move. Not with the way this guarded man is finally opening up.

In the corner, the band starts a new song. Fleetwood Mac. Callum nibbles at his lower lip, and like a mind reader I know he's gathering his thoughts. So I wait. I'm a patient woman.

"I found out two weeks before our wedding." His gaze is downcast, his hands tucked into his pockets. "It wasn't a dramatic, leave me alone at the end of an aisle in a tux situation. Thank God for small miracles."

"What did you do?" I'm keeping my voice even, when every part of me wants to find out the names of the people who demolished Callum's heart and send them a box of rotting cabbage. Just beyond that vengeful desire, balanced on my mind's periphery, is a very welcome but poorly timed vision of Callum in a tux.

The Callum of today, clad in dark jeans and yet another flannel, winces. "I behaved badly."

I nod decisively. "They had it coming."

His smile is crooked, and little sparks shoot across my chest. I've yet to see Callum really smile, but something tells me it's going to be worth the wait.

His knuckles scrape over his facial hair. "Aren't you going to ask me what I did?"

"Nope. I'd like to have plausible deniability should anyone ever come asking."

Callum shakes his head slowly, palming the back of his neck. "I didn't do anything super illegal."

I wiggle my eyebrows. "But you thought about it, didn't you?"

His arms cross his chest. "Of course not."

"You saved your super illegal activities for usurping the cabin?"

The slight movement of muscles around his lips tells me he's trying not to find me humorous. "I put eye drops in his coffee. My best man. Not in hers, of course, because she was⁠—"