Page 87 of Holiday Hopefuls
“Oliver, it’s fine.” He sighs. “Because you’re right. What Angie and I had … that wasn’t love. At least, not like it should be. Everything was conditional, and you and I both know better than that. We tell other families every single day what loving relationships should look like, and I can admit that what we had wasn’t it. But I know that if I ever got the chance to have something real, I would do everything in my power to keep it. For my sake, and for Cecilia’s.” The weight of John using his daughter’s full name isn’t lost on me. He only opts for it when he means business. “What’s really scaring you, Ollie? Surely it’s not the commitment?”
Shaking my head, I answer with a strong, “No, not at all. I’d buy a ring today if I knew she felt the same way. I think it’s more that I didn’t, um?—”
“You weren’t expecting this deal to lead to her,” he finishes, “and so quickly.”
“It was always supposed to be a transaction,” I whisper, “nothing more. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not even trying to deny what I’m feeling. I … I’ve wanted this. With her. For a while now … I’ve only ever felt like this with her.”
“But what if Callie doesn’t think any of this is real.” John sighs, already aware of my answer.
“Right.”
“I think you know what you have to do next.”
A soft knock against the glass behind me sounds through the crisp air. Turning around, I’m welcomed with the sight of Callie’s warm smile grinning at me from the other side of the thick door. The smile that takes over my face is instant, a reflex.
And she beams right back.
Raising a finger to signal that I’ll be right in, Callie nods and points to the bathroom before leaving me alone again.
“Oliver?”
“Sorry, Callie’s awake,” I breathe. “Listen man, thanks for this. For talking through everything.”
John chuckles on the other end of the line. “Of course. Let me know how it goes.”
Saying our goodbyes, I head back into the warmth of our room that welcomes me with open arms. “Callie?” I call. Kicking off my houseshoes, I hang my coat back in the closet.
The woman of the hour emerges from the bathroom, dressed in a garnet sweater and jeans with wool socks, carrying a small cosmetic bag. “Hey,” she smiles. “Merry Christmas Eve.” Her long hair falls in effortless waves down her back as she places the miniscule bag on the dresser.
“Merry Christmas Eve.”
“You’re up early.” Callie lifts a brow in my direction as she makes her way back to her side of the bed.
Shrugging, I watch as she unplugs her phone and stuffs it in her back pocket. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d check on John and Cici.”
Her perfect brow furrows. “You woke him up?”
“He’s an early riser,” I explain. “By the time I called, it’s very likely he had already been to the gym, fed the hog, solved world hunger and won a Nobel Peace Prize.”
“Wow.”
“And that’s just since we saw him yesterday afternoon.”
Callie blinks, crossing her arms. “That sounds like quite the itinerary for what’s supposed to be a relaxing vacation.”
“Speaking of which, what’s on the agenda today?” I ask, clearing my throat. “Anything particularly romantic?”
“Oh, plenty of activities that will require lots of lovey dovey PDA since we’re madly in love and all,” Callie snickers.
Forcing myself to swallow, I think about John’s words. “Callie, I think we should?—”
Three brisk raps on our door ring out through the room. “Calloway, open up,” Chris calls through the thick door, “unless you and Dr. Hotness are naked. In that case, just talk through the door.”
My interest piques at this new nickname that has clearly been used before.
Heat floods Callie’s cheeks. Groaning, she rolls her eyes and goes to open the door. “What?” she demands.
Chris, fully dressed and ready for the day, stands in our doorway, scowling and looking completely unamused to be in our presence this early in the morning. Like Callie, he wears jeans and a sweater. But where her top perfectly compliments her ruby hair, Chris’s looks like the machine exploded in the middle of the pattern. “I thought I told you to just talk through the door if you were naked.”
