Page 121 of Callan

Perhaps the park brings back some memories, allowing for a moment of introspection.

It’s a mind-blowing experience for me, like nothing I’ve ever imagined.

So I experience regret when our ride comes to an end and we climb out and say goodbye to the coachman.

“Did you like it?” he asks, focused on me again.

“I loved it.”

We take a few steps onto the alley before he checks the time on his watch.

“Are we in a hurry?” I ask.

“No.”

His smile is curt and hard to trust.

Despite what he said, my mind goes back to what had happened at my place.

“What do you want me to tell if those people come knocking on my door again?” I ask as he takes my hand and walks me out of the park.

“They won’t come again. I’ll make sure of that,” he says quietly, preoccupied.

We’re waiting for the lights to turn green before crossing the street.

“And where are we going now?” I ask, prancing next to him, proud like a peacock.

It didn’t take me long to get used to having my hand locked with his, did it?I love this despite knowing that it’s a fleeting moment.

The thought that he is doing all this to earn my trust and make me say yes to him warms me inside.

But maybe I’m overthinking things.

Maybe we’re two people stuck in a timeframe, with him running away from something and me running toward the same thing.

He wants to be alone.

I want something different.

As strange as it sounds, this thing works for us to a degree.

I’m convinced we’re headed to that club when he stops in front of a royally lit teahouse and holds the door for me to step inside.

The place is small but glows like a giant jewelry box.

Ceiling lights and wall sconces highlight the marble floors, glass countertops, and vases filled with flowers.

A friendly hostess greets us and leads the way to a corner table. She removes our coats and brings us the menus.

I go for the passion fruit mousse and citrus tea, while Callan orders Irish tea and apple cake.

It’s hard not to notice how out of place he seems to be. Although he is familiar with the place.

Even so, with his sharp dark suit and sultry dark green amber eyes, he looks more like a time traveler than a regular.

“Are you coming here often?” I ask, noticing how the street looks like a painting behind the glass wall.

“Only when I have stuff to do in this part of town.”

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