Page 178 of Love Me Stalk Me
"Stay," he murmurs, each word sinking into me. "I’ll be right back."
I nod, barely registering his words, still too distracted by the fact that I can literally see every single muscle flex as he turns away. The tattoos stretching across his back ripple with each movement. I watch as he walks toward the door.
And then he's gone, disappearing through the doorway. I have approximately thirty seconds to compose myself. I fail.
When he returns, it's with a serving tray balanced in his hands.
A fucking serving tray. My eyes narrow immediately. "Where the hell did you even get that?"
He looks smug as he sets the tray down on my lap, completely unfazed. The warmth seeps through the blanket onto my thighs. "Snuck it in while you were sleeping."
I gape at him. "You smuggled in cookware?"
He shrugs, handing me a glass of wine like this is the most normal evening in the world. The deep burgundy liquid catches the soft light from my bedside lamp. "I was planning ahead."
I sputter out a laugh, shaking my head. Unbelievable. He's been invading my life, my space, my apartment—and I didn't even notice. Or maybe I did. Maybe I just never wanted to stop him.
I take a sip of wine, the rich flavor filling my mouth, watching as he settles in beside me. The mattress shifts with his weight, automaticallybringing me closer to him as the surface dips. He grabs his own plate, starts eating like this is our routine, like this is just what we do, like he belongs here. Maybe he does. Maybe this is just what my life looks like now.
I take a bite, and tears hit fast. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding—and then it’s just happening.
Hot, unstoppable, ugly crying. And even I don’t know where it came from.
Cal freezes, fork midair, his eyes widening slightly. "Jesus. Did I overcook it or something?"
I sniffle, letting out a choked laugh, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "No. Oh my god, no."
He still looks at me like I'm an alien as I shake my head, voice shaky, laughing through the tears. "Everything's just... perfect. And I guess that's why I'm crying."
His brow furrows. "You're crying because it's perfect?"
I laugh harder, half-sobbing, half-giggling, and he's still just sitting there, watching me like I've lost my goddamn mind. "Stop teasing me, you asshole."
His expression softens, his lips twitch, and then he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. "I get it," he says, his voice completely sincere. "You don't have to explain it if you don't want to."
I breathe out, shaky, trying to pull myself together with another sip of wine and a deep inhale. And then I say it, because I need to, because I've never said it out loud before: "Everything was so wrong with Evan."
I stare down at my plate, pushing the food around with my fork. The tines scrape against the ceramic with a soft sound. "And I just... never even knew." I let out a soft laugh, sad and self-deprecating. "I was in that tunnel, you know? I didn't know there was an entire world outside of it, full of trees and sunlight."
Cal is quiet for a long moment before he finally responds, softly, knowingly, like he's been there himself: "Yeah. I know what you mean."
I sip my wine, stealing a glance at him from the corner of my eye. He looks so at ease, leaning against my headboard, broad shoulders relaxed, his hand idly twisting his fork as he chews, working through his food like there was never a time before him.
My fingers tap against my glass, the soft ping of my nail against the crystal creating a nervous rhythm. I hesitate before carefully venturing the question that's been sitting in the back of my mind all night: "Can I askyou something?"
He lifts his eyes to me, pausing mid-bite as I shift, swallowing. "How long did it take you to get over your ex?"
His expression shifts—barely—but it’s enough. I catch the hesitation, the way his eyes go distant like he’s sorting through something he wasn’t ready to revisit.
He doesn’t answer right away, and suddenly I regret asking. Maybe I crossed a line. Maybe I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.
"I think," he says finally, setting his fork down, his voice calm and even, "it took me a very short amount of time... and a very long amount of time."
I frown, blinking. "I don't get it."
He exhales, stretching his arm along the back of the headboard, turning slightly to face me. "The moment it happened," he explains, "I accepted it. I didn't cry about it. It didn't bother me when I thought about it." He pauses before adding, "But I also haven't been with another woman since. Not in any serious capacity."
"So maybe it didn't take me long to move on. But maybe it took me a long time to be ready to trust someone else again."
