Page 142 of Callan

With Callan…

It’s way more than being nervous about it.

He reads me so well that he can singlehandedly dial my emotions up or down as he sees fit.

It’s not only about how close he is to me.

He can make me feel pretty comfortable and knows how to address my concerns.

The only thing he cannot do is give me the nice, tidy reassurance of certainty.

If anything, he has been truthful with me and taken away that option out of caution.

So there’s that.

He is a stranger to me now.

And he will need to be a stranger tomorrow morning.

And the day after if I’ll see him again.

“Yes. That’s fine with me,” I say.

A knowing smile tilts his lips.

“All right,” he drawls. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he adds before pulling away from me and exiting the bedroom.

I still have the view of his broad shoulders in front of my eyes when the door across the corridor opens and closes, and I’m alone in the vast bedroom.

A slow breath enters my lungs before I slowly push it out.

My eyes wander around the room and the large windows overlooking the lawn.

Inching closer to them, I look outside.

What a beautiful view.

Still. Painted in pure white. With sparkling lights across the trees.

It's a beautiful place if not for the memories kept in the walls, which make it unlivable for him.

I try to see myself living in a place like this and find it difficult.

It’s like the house comes with certain expectations, and rightfully so, since it has such a long history.

Reluctantly, I return my focus to the room.

No sound comes from across the corridor, but he must be in the other bathroom, getting ready for me, so I make a beeline for the shower and prepare myself for our first night together.

The spacious bathroom comes with a large glass booth, a toilet, a sparkling sink, a vanity, and shelves stocked with luxury monogrammed towels.

Everything I need is on the counter and the shelf inside the shower.

I shed my clothes and step in.

The water runs over my body for a few good minutes while my hair is protected from the humidity by a towel wrapped around my head.

I walk out wrapped in the fresh scent of some fruity body wash I found on the shelf, run a clean towel over my skin, and pick up a bathrobe from the same shelf.

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