Page 164 of Callan

He couldn’t be here, right?

Rivulets of sweat trickle down my neck, damping my hair.

The unavoidable moment of meeting each other’s eyes hovers over us, and I cringe inside at the thought that he would look at me with coldness, maybe grappling with displeasure.

Desperately, I look at the exit, making a quick calculation in my head.

If I left my shopping basket here and made a beeline for the exit, he’d still see me.

I take a deep breath, bottling up my frustration and preparing myself for making this evening even worse.

He casually tosses a glance over the shoulder when, surprise, surprise, he notices me.

My eyes are pinned on his face as I gauge his reaction.

“Oh…” he murmurs, slightly amused and feigning surprise as if he’s run into an old friend he hasn’t seen in a while.

This smells like a setup to me.

I might not know everything about this man, but I know enough to tell he’s acting and not even putting a lot of effort into it.

Before I have the chance to say anything, he dips his eyes and speaks again.

“Ring this up for me as well,” he says, grabbing my shopping basket and putting it on the counter.

The woman at the register looks at me, waiting for confirmation.

“She’s with me,” he says, destroying the orb of uncertainty and the unease in my chest. “Do you want anything else?” he asks, looking straight at me like we’re about to go home and cook dinner together.

“No,” I say quietly. “I can pay for it,” I argue, reaching inside my pocket to pull out my wallet.

He stops me with a gesture, looking at the woman.

“Ring her stuff up and also add some scratch-off tickets.”

He moves his attention to the lottery tickets.

“Five for her and five for me.”

He’s very particular about it, and I let him do his thing.

I never believed in lottery tickets.

Never bought a winning one.

Never enjoyed buying one.

Somehow, I always thought the odds were gently stacked against me.

I might not have had it the worse out there, but things could’ve been better.

I don’t know what his plan is, so I’m watching the woman taking the stuff I bought and placing it in a grocery bag after ringing it up.

A few moments later, he pays for everything, lifts the grocery bag from the counter, and holds the scratch-off lottery tickets up.

“Pick yours,” he says as if we’ve come together, and now, we're leaving together.

“Do you really believe in this?” I ask skeptically as we walk out and stop a few feet from the store.

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