Page 66 of Callan

A smile blooms on his lips.

“She’s helping me. That’s all you need to know,” I say, indicating that our conversation’s over. “Now let me call Carmen. I feel like going to a party,” I say, grabbing the first phone while Alistair shakes his head in amusement again.

10

MACKENZIE

Oh,fucking no.

The noise upstairs has become unbearable, not because it’s loud, but because it’s obnoxious.

Laugher spills through the walls and loud music wafts from my neighbor’s apartment.

I filled out an entire sheet of paper describing all the cars and people invited to her party.And man, does she like to dance and have people over or what?

My eyes nearly water from straining while trying to grasp everybody’s features and make sure he isn’t one of the guests.

What difference would it make if he was here?

Honestly, I can’t tell.

All I know is that I don’t want him upstairs to mingle with those people, and I don’t want him anywhere near that woman.

I don’t want him anywhere near any woman.

As strange as it sounds to feel that way, it comes so naturally to me.

“Is it worse?” Kayla asks, watching me through my phone camera from the other end of the line while I stare up at the ceiling.

I tip my gaze down.

“It’s annoying,” I say, a wry smile lining my lips.

“People do these things around this time of year,” she says humorously, and we both laugh.

“They sure do, and I never get invited to one of those loud, obnoxious parties,” I comically complain.

Her hands goes up in protest.

“I invited you to my party.”

“Yes, yes. Yes. And I’m so sorry. You know how much I love you and your parents, and their cute home. But you also know how much I hate to travel.”

She dismisses me with a soft gesture and a faint smile.

“Don’t worry. I don’t enjoy traveling either.”

We continue our conversation, and she talks about her cousins and the guy she met back home, while half of my focus stays on the mayhem upstairs.

It’s a good thing he hasn’t shown up. I would’ve hated it to know he was upstairs. My thoughts wander away, spinning that idea for a while, when I pick up my phone and walk to the window, half listening to Kayla.

“Is it snowing over there?” she asks, realizing that I’m looking out the window.

My eyes go from the building’s entrance to the sky.

“No. It’s just cold.”

Ice lines the sidewalks, and the old trees look like they’ve been dipped in marzipan.

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