the apartment.
“Uh, hello, stranger.”
She grinned. “What’s up, Doc?”
What’s up, Doc? “Are you … holy shit, are you Marty McFly?”
“Happy Back to the Future Day!”
October 21, the day Marty first went back to 1955. Cal had told her that he usually watched the movies once a year and that she was welcome to join him. He would never have imagined she would go to all this effort. If he were to look in a mirror right now, he’d see the most foolish, sappy grin on his face.
Gripping the sides of her puffer vest, he yanked her toward him. “This is maybe not quite as weird as Marty making out with his mom, but it’s up there. I really want to kiss you, McFly.”
“Kiss away, weirdo. I won’t tell anyone.”
So he did, pouring all his emotion into it, loving that she didn’t hold back. She never did.
“I guess I’d better dig out my Doc Brown hazmat suit.”
Her eyes lit up. “You have one?”
“Nah. I’ve never taken it this seriously.” He shook his head, still grinning so hard his cheeks ached. “You’ve made my day.”
It had been a tough couple of weeks. Coach was experimenting with the first line, switching Cal and Durand out for shifts on the right wing. When Cal was out there, he did well, but he wasn’t out there enough. Barely three weeks into the season, and Durand was two points ahead of him on the board.
But Mia was still here. Still coming over for lunch. Still making him smile with silly texts and post-game check-ins while he was on the road. Still gathering intel to use with her romantic target.
They didn’t talk about him. But he was always there, a ghost between them, a metaphorical chaperone keeping them at a safe emotional distance. Knowing that she would eventually end this, not because Cal would engineer it as was his usual MO, but because she would soon realize Cal’s utility as a relationship mentor was both nonexistent and no longer useful, allowed Cal a certain measure of detachment.
At least that’s what he told himself.
But then she showed up, dressed as Marty McFly on Back to the Future Day, and he realized detachment was a dream. He was utterly attached, his heart and soul fused to hers with an invisible glue that she couldn’t see. That he couldn’t let her see.
Two hours later, they’d eaten sandwiches and watched the first movie. Mia went to the bathroom and when she returned, she hovered at the end of the sofa.
“What’s wrong?”
“I—I have some cramps,” she said quietly. “You know, time of the month. I probably should leave.”
“Why?”
“TP won’t cut it.”
He blinked. “That’s all?”
“Easy for you to say, human without a womb.”
“You’re leaving because I don’t have a ready-made supply of feminine hygiene products?”
“That, and I’m not going to be much fun in my current state.”
He snorted. “If I was in this for fun, I’d have asked for a refund weeks ago.”
“Hey!” But she chuckled softly all the same.
“What I’m trying to say is that I like you well enough to spend time with you in all your many moods, Wallace.”
That pleased her, and Christ, he loved to please her. “I won’t be entertaining you,” she said defiantly. “I’ll just be a lump on the sofa.”
“Love me a lump on the sofa.”
She laughed again. “You’re too nice, Callum.”
He liked when she said his full name like that. “Listen, it’s not your job to entertain me, Mia. Your job is just to be you, and I happen to like how you do that. A plus.” He’d clearly surprised her—and himself—so he rushed on. “How would you usually forge through these end times?”
“Eat ice cream or cookies or potato chips. None of which I have on hand because you live a monk-like, salt and sugar-free existence.”
“Good thing all these things you require can be obtained at the CVS then.”
“But I also need tampons and while I know you’re friendly with all your ex-girlfriends that seems to be going a bit far.”
Not digging that jibe about the exes, but he supposed he deserved it. He had been very clear on the topic.
“Tell me what you need.”
“You’d do that?”
“If it keeps you on my sofa.” And in my life.
“But we won’t be—well—I’m not feeling super sexy.” Her cheeks fired up, and damn, it was adorable.
Maybe he’d called this wrong. Maybe cuddling up with Cal Foreman on the sofa was the last thing she wanted.
“If you’d be more comfortable at home, I get it.”
“That’s just the place I’m