Chapters (26)
But when he walks into the kitchen with his hair in a bun, his face still scruffy, and his three chest hairs on full display, I realize that like cockroaches, hipsters never die.
“Cal!” Aggie stops crying the second she sees him. This child has a very poor judge of character.
“How’s my favorite girl?” he asks.
“Wonderful! Can I see your phone?”
“Absolutely not.” He ruffles her messy red curls, and when his eyes catch mine, his lips shift into an infuriating smirk.
“Please tell me that’s an apple crumble,” Holly says, eyeing the dish in his hand.
“It’s a pear custard pie.”
“Ugh.” Holly frowns. “Why on earth wouldn’t you make the apple crumble? I’ve been dreaming about it for days.”
“Someone snagged the last of the apples this morning.” His eyes catch mine for a brief second before I decide to guzzle down the rest of my wine.
“And you didn’t think to try another store?” Holly asks.
“Contrary to popular belief, my life does not revolve around pleasing you.”
“Of course it does,” she scoffs. “Do you know who I am?”
“Oh, Holly,” Nora sighs. “Leave the poor boy alone.”
“Yeah, Holls,” Callum says after kissing Nora’s cheek. “Leave the poor boy alone. He’s had quite the trying day.”
“Oh, yeah? What exactly was so trying about it? Did you have to scrub vomit off the floor of your pub?”
“Yes,” he says. “But I also had to help a woman up off the ground after she slipped on some snow.”
“The Crown Prince of Mairead at it again.” Holly rolls her eyes. “Your Royal Highness, please let me introduce you to our guest of honor, Ms. Bree Danchev-Truong.”
Callum’s puts down his pie and extends his hand to me. “It’s lovely to meet you, Bree. And may I say, those are some lovely boots you’ve got on. Are they Gucci?”
“They’re Saint Laurent.”
“My apologies.” He smiles. “They’re lovely.”
For the first time since I walked in, the house goes quiet. Everyone is watching us. Even Eva is looking in from the living room. Eventually, after a few awkward seconds pass, Holly barks out a terrifying laugh.
“Oh my God, it was Callum,” she laughs. “He was your grocery store stalker.”
“I was not stalking her,” he says. “I was inquiring about her apples.”
“Oh, I’ve got stories about her apples,” Holly says. “I’m not sure they’re dinner table appropriate.”
“Best leave it for the pub, then,” Nora says.
“But I want to hear about Bree’s apples!” Aggie cries.
“So do I.” Callum grins.
I grab the bottle of wine from Freya and top my glass to the rim.
TO BE CONTINUED
Also by Ashley Shepherd
The Fine Art of Losing Control
Untitled (January/February 2020)