open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Just a shudder of a breath. My hand goes limp in his. It’s lucky he’s holding on to me, because his words are an invisible truck hitting me at full speed. I’d be facedown in the dirt if I were standing on my own.
Callum is in love with me.
Callum is in love with me.
No matter how many times I silently repeat it to myself, it still rattles me to the core.
“You . . . you’re in love with me?”
My brain flashes back to our last night together, to the last words he spoke before I fell asleep.
I hold my hand up at him. “Wait. The other night . . . did you say . . .”
He nods. “I said I loved you. But you were asleep.”
The words send shock waves through my body and brain that are so powerful, all other sensations are rendered null and void. He leans forward until our bodies press together, and then he runs his hand through my hair before settling back onto my cheek.
It’s a long moment of us standing and staring. Opening and closing my mouth does no good, because zero words materialize. It’s his touch. It has some sort of mythical hold on me, and I need to think clearly in this moment. I step back and out of his reach.
The wrinkles in his forehead deepen. “I can’t take another second of pretending like I don’t love you. Fuck this bloody contest, fuck all this food truck nonsense. I don’t care about this ridiculous festival or who wins or loses or the money or where I’ll be able to park from now on. I couldn’t care less about some random place where Finn and I can sling food. All I care about is being with you. Can’t we . . .” He pauses, his chest rising with a single breath, his throat moving with a single swallow. “Can’t we just forget about all this and be together?”
His words take a moment to soak in, but once they do, I want to scream until my lungs implode.
All these months I’ve spent working to perfect my recipes, those weeks I drove around when I first moved here trying to find the perfect spot for our food truck, the hours I’ve spent worrying about money and my mom and how in the world I’ll make a life in a place I never thought I’d be, every late night, every early morning, every dollar I spent to keep this business running . . . the promise I made to my dad before he died. I’m supposed to forget about all that? No.
I swallow, barely able to keep from yelling. “Maybe running a food truck was a fun little hiatus from your finance life, but it is everything to me, Callum. I came here to help my mom and keep a promise to my dad, not abandon my family the moment I catch feelings like some lovestruck teenager.”
The harshness in my voice makes me cringe. This conversation needs to end. If I keep going like this, I’ll say something even worse.
“Let’s talk about this after the festival,” I mutter.
The expression in his eyes runs hot. I can tell by the way the veins in his neck bulge that he’s trying to keep himself in check. Still his tone remains hard, desperate.
“Are you honestly telling me that you can’t fit me into your life, Nikki?”
My head spins. It’s like a million invisible walls are closing in on me. “I can’t do this right now, Callum.”
I dart around him to walk back to the truck. He catches me with a hand on my bicep before I can make it more than a few steps, spinning me to face him. “You’re willing to throw us away? Because you’re scared?”
When I look at him, my chest throbs like it’s going to collapse. I’ve already told him I can’t take this; he can see how much it kills me. Why does he have to push?
When I say nothing, his face twists and his hands fall away from me.
“I see.” His voice is strangled. “I suppose that means we’re done, then.”
The finality of his words makes my knees buckle. But I can’t seem to move my mouth. To ask him to stay with me. To give me more time.
His pained gaze lingers on me for a long second. Then he walks away.
We’re over.
When I’m certain that my legs won’t fall out from under me, I stumble