Page 49 of What Hurts Us

“Ah.” She dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand and turned to my dad. “Eshgham.We met, what—four times before our wedding?” She glanced at Callum. “Things were a bit different back then. Time is relative. Some people need a long time to fall in love; others know when they look into each other’s eyes.”

I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “The first time we met, he thought he was being abducted by an alien.”

Cal snickered. “Told you not to give me drugs.”

“You were being a baby,” I shot back.

“My bones were outside my body,” he said with a bright laugh. “I think I get a pass on being mildly uncomfortable, honey.”

My family was in stitches. Even Karim was cackling. “See?” My mother said as she drained her chai. “Perfect match.”

We were still laughing when my dad stood up. “Joonam.” There was authority in the way he addressed me. “Callum.” He reached out and extended his hand to Cal.

We stood, and my dad and Callum shook hands.

“Mobârak,” my father said, smacking Cal on the arm. “Welcome to the family, Callum.”

Callum nodded reverently, though I didn’t miss the sigh of relief he let slip. “Thank you, sir.”

My aunt swooped in, drawing my mom and grandma into a corner, tossing around words likeengagement partyandwedding dress shopping.My dad, Karim, and Callum had launched into a conversation about UNC’s upcoming basketball season.

I was split between the two groups, not sure where I fit. I was the daughter who moved away. The one who wanted independence. Individualism. The downside was not knowing how I fit whenever I came back.

Callum slipped his hand around mine, weaving our fingers and bringing them to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of my hand and tugged me close. He listened intently to my dad and brother as he positioned me in front of him. His chest was warm against my back as he wrapped his arms around me, clicking me into his body like a missing puzzle piece.

* * *

“How doyou feel about making a pit stop before we head home?” Cal asked as he draped his arm behind my headrest and backed out of the driveway.

The sun had set, and the fall chill clawed its way through the sweater dress that was less warm than it looked. I reached over and stabbed the heat dial. “Do you have to work in the morning?”

“Yeah,” he said as he navigated the neighborhood, heading back toward Falls Creek. “You?”

“Yeah.”

“We won’t be out too late,” he said as he shifted his hand on the steering wheel.

I stared out the window at fields covered in complete darkness. “You did really well back there. I know they can be a little … intense. Probably not what you thought you were signing up for when you asked me to be your fake fiancé.”

A lazy smile crossed his lips. “I like your family. They’re cool.”

“What about your family? What are they going to think when they hear the news.”

He chuckled. “Well, you know Gran. I’m sure your aunt has already called her up with the inside scoop.”

“What about your parents or your…” Step-siblings? Half-siblings? Rather than prying into his obvious discomfort, I simply said, “Or their kids?”

The smile fell. “I don’t talk to them.”

“Just Gran?”

He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Just Gran.”

Downtown Falls Creek was lively for a small town on a fall weekend. The patio at The Copper Mule was packed. Every parking space was taken, and a cover band worked through the hits of Journey, Pat Benatar, and Wilson Phillips.

Cal veered into his driveway and parked. He opened my door and waited patiently as I stood and straightened out my dress. We walked down the sidewalk, hand-in-hand, while the entire town whispered behind our backs.

There were rumors that I was a mail-order bride. Rumors that I was his secret ex-wife and we were trying to make it work. Rumors that we had been high school sweethearts and that I had gone into witness protection for a decade before reconnecting with him. There was also speculation that I was a dominatrix, and he had a secret affinity for pain and humiliation.

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