“It’s Brandon,” Callie says as if I didn’t just hear his voice through the door. Her eyes are wide, burning a hole through me, searching for an explanation for what just happened.
What almost happened.
I give her a tight nod. “Let’s go.”
I don’t look at her as I walk by—or for the rest of the night.
Twenty-Two
Callie
I tossed and turned in bed last night for hours.
I shouldn’t have tried to go to sleep so early, but I didn’t know what else to do with myself.
Cole almost kissed me.
And I almost let him.
I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.
What I’m still thinking.
The way his hungry eyes looked into mine. The way my lip sizzled when his thumb skated across it. The way my head and my heart were completely in sync for what felt like the first time in a long, long time.
I wanted it to happen.
I’m an awful person.
Cole’s vulnerable right now. He experienced something horrific, and he was opening up to me in the pool house yesterday. I took advantage of his trust, all while Paul is alone in our home, distraught and waiting for me to make a decision about our marriage.
I’m still married.
It’s only been three weeks since I left Paul. I can’t be kissing someone else! Or thinking about it.
I bury my face in the pillow and let out an exasperated growl.
Get your life together, Callie.
I reach into the nightstand and pull out my journal.
Get a job. Check.
Consultation with a lawyer. Check.
Continue therapy. Check.
Go to group. Check.
What’s next? It seems like I’m at a stalemate until I decide what to do about my marriage. The lawyer, Will, made it seem very cut and dry. Easy. I suppose divorce is easy on paper where there are no emotions involved.
But that paper holds my life. My future.
I don’t care about tangible items or Paul’s pension. Maverick is the only thing in that whole house that I’d fight for, and according to Will, I’d win that battle. Maverick was a gift Paul gave me for Christmas a few years ago, and gifts can’t be taken back by the gift giver.
I’m worried about Paul. How would he handle this if I said I wanted a divorce? Would he be spiteful? Would he hate me? Would he try to hurt me?
Or is he capable of change? Has he gone to therapy in the last few weeks? Is he making an effort to be better for himself, for us, for me?
How would it feel to go back to living together after all this? Is our marriage salvageable? I used to think I could do something to fix us. Now, I’m not so sure. This is bigger than me.
My head throbs. I hate thinking about the answers to these questions, but I need to figure this out.
The sooner I do, the sooner I can find peace.
“You look like hell.”
I huff out a laugh. “Gee, thanks, Gertie.”
“What happened to you?”
I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Couldn’t sleep last night. Had a lot on my mind.”
She leans her hip against the counter. “Well, let’s hear it so I can help.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to bother you with my stuff.”
“Your stuff is my stuff, sugar. You’re helping me run my business. Let me help you with yours. So, come on. Out with it.”
I heave a sigh. “I don’t know what to do about Paul. I need to make a decision so I don’t leave the two of us in limbo, but I don’t know what the right answer is.”
“The right answer is what you want to do. Plain and simple.”
“What if I don’t know what I want?”
“I have news for you, sugar.” Gertie steps closer to me and grips my shoulders. “You already know what you want. You’re just afraid to admit that you want it.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“You just need to listen better. Listen to what that little voice inside is telling you.”
The corners of my mouth pull downward as I try to hear something, anything.
“Don’t frown so much,” Gertie says with a wink. “Food tastes better when you cook it with love, not sadness.”
I chuckle and get started on this morning’s orders. It’s so busy I barely have any time to think. I lose myself in cooking. It’s therapeutic. It reminds me of better days, when my mom and my grandfather were alive. Before Paul. Before this whole mess started. Cooking brings me happiness.
Would I have to give this up if I went back to Paul?
The thought alone makes my stomach hurt.
As I’m getting ready to leave at the end of the day, Gertie stops me at the door.
“I want to ask you something before you go, sugar.”
“Of course.”
“Have you had any panic attacks lately? In the last week or two?”
My eyebrows dip down as I think about it. “No. I had one the night I left Paul, but I don’t think I’ve had one since.”
Gertie hums. “Interesting.”
“Why do you ask?”
She shrugs as she flips the light switch. “I just think that’s very telling. That’s all. Have a good night, dear.”
“Are you sure you don’t feel up to coming out? It’ll be our treat.”
I shake my head. “I’m sure, but thank you so much for the offer.”
Josie waves her hand at me. “You’re no fun!”
“If she’s tired, she’s tired. She was working on her feet all day.” Dan shoots me a wink as he comes to my rescue.
“Sure, take her side.” Josie rolls her eyes and clomps toward the front door in her wedges. “There’s food in the fridge when you get hungry, Cal.”
“Thanks. Have fun!”
I blow out a breath of relief as I lock the door behind them. Josie and Dan are taking the kids out to dinner, which means I have the entire house to myself tonight.
I take the stairs two at a time and make a beeline for the guest bathroom. I’ve been dying to soak in a bath since I started staying here, and tonight’s the perfect night for it.
While the tub fills, I strip out of my clothes and settle on a meditation playlist on YouTube. Then I light a few candles, shut off the lights, and climb into the warm water.
Closing my eyes, I drift away to the soft sound of the music. I force any and all thoughts out of my mind, allowing myself to forget about everything that’s happening in my world right now. I let go and breathe.
After the bath, I’m feeling more relaxed than ever as I wrap myself in my robe and head down to the kitchen to make something to eat.
The doorbell rings.
I check through the peephole, and all of my relaxation goes right out the window.
My shoulders jump as he knocks on the door. “Callie, are you there? It’s Paul. I just want to talk.”
I’m uneasy about the idea of being alone with Paul. Then again, maybe he’s here to tell me he’s been going to therapy. Maybe he’s trying to change, and we can have a healthy conversation.
Tightening the belt on my robe, I swing open the door.
“Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?” he asks.