Claiming Callie: Part two (8 page)

Callie frowns. “It
’
s
okay. I mean, I agreed, didn
’
t I? I want to help him out, and it
’
ll put any remaining rumors about the whole escort fiasco at bay. It
’
s a win-win, I guess.”

“Yeah. Win-win. I hope so,” Jinny says, then begins to bite her lip.

“Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” J
inny blinks at her, then shakes her head. “No. Yeah, sorry. I
’
m just a bit distracted. I
’
m not gonna lie. It
’
s kind of weird seeing you two together like this, but as long as you
’
re both on board...” Her voice trails off as Dean and Emmett approach their t
able.

Dean leans down to Callie and wraps an arm around her, snuggling his face in close. The stubble on his jaw tickles her skin. “Everything okay?” he whispers.

“Great,” Callie says, trying not to notice how both Emmett and Jinny are watching them.
Putting on a display in front of a bunch of people Callie doesn
’
t know is one thing, but in front of these two, quite another.

Pulling away, Dean plops down in the booth next to Callie and wraps an arm around her. She lets herself lay back on him and smile
s.

Emmett grabs a handful of fries and shoves a couple in his mouth. “I
’
m glad we decided on this double date. Now that you two are officially a couple, I think Jinny and I following in your footsteps is only natural. Right, love?” He turns to her and grin
s.

Jinny groans. “First. This is not a date,” she says, pointing between the two of them. Second, it
’
s never gonna happen.
”

“I love it when she plays hard to get.”

“So, are you guys are coming to our game Friday night?” Dean asks, stealing one of Emmett
’
s
fries.

“Why? Are you planning some romantic display of your affections?” Callie jokes. Glancing around the room, she looks for signs of Maya but finds none. Regardless, she grabs Dean
’
s hand—just in case—and begins running her fingers over his skin, tracin
g circles on his palm. Pretending seems to come so naturally to her.

This fake-girlfriend stuff is cake.

Dean laughs. “Maybe. Is that a requirement?”

Callie shrugs. “It wouldn
’
t hurt. I mean, what girl doesn
’
t want the billboard to light up with some
cheesy declaration of love? Or better yet, you could have the cheerleaders break out in a song and dance.”

Dean
’
s hand leaves hers and he runs a finger up her arm. “True. Nothing says we
’
re a couple or spells true love like a Hallmark Channel cliché.”

Laug
hing it off, she scoffs. “Men. You have no real concept of romance.” But on the inside, she’s not laughing. Suppressing the urge to shiver at his trailing fingers, she ignores the small blaze of fire that follows everywhere he touches.

“You guys are nausea
ting in your flirty banter.” Emmett turns to Jinny. “What do you say we leave these two lovebirds and you can try and settle my stomach?” He winks at Jinny, who simply shakes her head in response.

“I
’
m going to bathroom. I
’
ll be back,” Jinny says and slide
s out of the booth.

She leaves and Emmett sits there, glancing around the room, whistling. This lasts two seconds, before he pauses. “Okay, now I feel like a loser sitting here alone with you two. Maybe I
’
ll go see if I can corner Jinny outside the bathroo
m, see if she wants to share a milkshake with two straws.”

He
’
s halfway out of the booth when Dean turns to her. “He
’
s relentless.”

“It
’
s kind of cute, though. Funny, at least.” Dean falls silent for a moment and clasps her hand, so she asks, “Why
’
d you as
k about us coming to your game? Don
’
t we always come?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to make sure that this thing with us wouldn
’
t make you feel weird, or that you wouldn
’
t want to go because you
’
d have to keep pretending. You know?”

Callie shakes her head and
gives him her most reassuring smile. “That
’
s the whole point, isn
’
t it? Maya comes to a lot of your games. She needs to see me there and see us together. We should never squander an opportunity.”

“Right.”

He sounds worried. Callie feels the mood shift, so
she waits until he meets her gaze, then says, “
Hey, don’
t worry. You
’
re going to win her over. I
’
m going to help you. All the way. You and I will make this happen.”

“I hope so.”

Just as Dean says the words, Callie spots Maya walking in, hand-in-hand with
who she assumes is her new boyfriend. Callie smiles and whispers in Dean
’
s ear, “Show time.” Then she pulls away slightly and leans into his chest to
feed
him a French fry.

#

Callie gathers the papers on her desk into a pile and stuffs them in the file fo
lder labeled
the marcus account
. Glancing at her watch, she realizes it
’
s later than she thought, but that
’
s okay. She has nothing pressing to do. Quite the opposite. Jinny
’
s out with Todd, and Dean
’
s basketball game isn
’
t until later this evening. No poin
t in going to home to an empty apartment. Nothing feels more like a tomb than a home with no one in it. That, Callie knows from experience, and just the thought sends her already dark mood spiraling out of control.

She thinks of her parents—as she
’
s done a
ll day—and the empty apartment waiting for her, and shudders. Before she can stop herself, a familiar grief sneaks in like the grim reaper. She woke this morning with that familiar knowing. The same kind she
’
s had every year since her parents’ accident. Th
at keen awareness that the anniversary of their death approaches crawls in her belly like a bad flu she can’t crush. She never knows when it will hit, but a few weeks prior to the start of March is usually a safe bet. Still, no knowledge of this fact can p
repare her.

It will come and go, she knows, getting worse as the first of the month approaches. Until it does, and then she
’
ll deal. It
’
s easier than it was in the past. She supposes that should comfort her. Somehow, though, it doesn
’
t.

She remembers the n
ight of her parents’
accident
…what it felt like to be all alone in their family home. The emptiness seemed to echo off the walls, ominously loud. The ticking of the giant clock in the living room was suddenly as threatening as a time bomb. Because the minutes passing were different so
mehow. Changed to
post-parent time
.

Memories crashed through her that night with unrelenting cruelty, thunderous waves on the quickly receding shoreline of her life. Each room held different glimpses into their lives. Like the laundry room, with the freshl
y folded piles of clothes yet to be put away. Or the kitchen with the grocery list on the front of the refrigerator, carefully recorded in her mother
’
s loopy scrawl. Or the laptop sitting on the coffee table that her father would never get to work on again
. The toothbrushes in the bathroom, waiting to be used. Or the faded scent of her mother
’
s favorite body wash. All signs of life. Yet, those lives were now expired.

Expired
. Callie hates that word. It
’
s like saying they had suddenly gone bad. That they had
spoiled like a piece of rotten fruit. But the night before they got into their car, they were very much full of life, as vibrant as ever. And with each passing day, they would fade away more than the next. With each tick of the clock, Callie lost a little
piece of them. She could no longer remember the exact scent of her mother
’
s perfume. Or the tune her father used to hum around the house. She no longer remembered what it felt like to be hugged by them, or the way their voices sounded.

She swallows and pr
esses her eyes closed, not wanting to go down this line of thought. March 2
^nd
can’t some soon enough.

Needing a distraction, she glances around the office to see that Steve and the other intern have already left for the day.
Slackers.