Page 77 of Callow

I knew, objectively, it was way too soon to hope for things like a future with Callow. But, God, some part of me was really starting to pray that was possible. For me, who could use some fun as well as someone to be a support system, to help shoulder some of the burden life threw my way. But also for Daphne, who was clearly interested in having a stable father figure in her life.

As Daphne sat back, rapidly texting on her phone, Callow pulled away from the curb.

“I’m starting to really enjoy being a passenger princess,” I said, watching Callow’s profile.

He reached out, grabbing my thigh with his big hand and holding it there the whole way home.

And once we were out of the car, that same hand went to my lower back on the way in the building.

Daphne made a quiet little squealing sound before starting to text again, likely telling Allie that their plan was finally working.

“Are we still going to the bookstore tomorrow?” Daphne asked as we got in the elevator together.

“Do you want to?” Callow asked as his hand absentmindedly rubbed my lower back. I just barely resisted the urge to arch and purr like a damn cat.

“Could we do it Sunday instead?” she asked, surprising the both of us.

“Sure,” Callow said automatically.

“Why?” I asked, hating that suspicion was my initial reaction.

“Allie is still compiling a list of must-read books for me. And… a map of where to find them,” she admitted a little sheepishly.

“Sunday it is,” Callow agreed. “We could do breakfast.”

“It’s a Sunday,” Daphne said, brows scrunched.

“By that, she means we don’t rise before ten. So… brunch?”

“It’s a date,” Callow said, making my heart squeeze as the elevator doors slid open.

I hate to say it, but my suspicion wasn’t exactly unfounded.

Because my daughter wasn’t quite over her rebellious streak.

But the stakes were much higher with some unknown threat lurking in the shadows, just waiting for the chance to pounce.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Callow

I’d had a fuckuva lot of tacos in my day.

But tacos off of Sabrina and Daphne’s floral plates in their very pink and girly living room while watching early aughts soft horror movies were, by far, the best tacos I’d ever had.

Sabrina and Daph had this habit of talking through movies they’d clearly seen a dozen times before. Sometimes critiquing the dialogue or CGI, other times quoting the movie, or pointing out plot poles big enough to drive a bus through. But somehow managing to do it all in a fun, lighthearted way that didn’t come off overly negative. If anything, it was the complete opposite. They loved the movies enough to poke fun at them without it dampening that love.

After dinner, Daph asked her mother to help wash her hair then braid it while I loaded the dishwasher and put away the leftovers.

I’d never felt quite so damn domestic before.

Even though I’d been sharing a daily life with others pretty much my entire existence. I dunno. This just felt different.

“Callow,” Daph called as I sat at the kitchen counter trying not to look like I was eye-fucking Sabrina as she walked around making cookies while listening to Prince.

“What’s up, kid?” I asked as she came walking over with her tablet.

“Can I ask you, you know, war questions?”

---