no fucking clue what that was about. He’d never been so obsessive about dinner, and obviously something was wrong. I just didn’t know how those two things fit together.
I was wearing a pair of jeans already, but I tugged on a white T-shirt, then brushed my teeth. My insides felt jittery, which was a bit fucked. I had no reason to be nervous, so I told myself it was because Logan was at his first sleepover. I was stressing about that already. I’d made him crazy checking in about his medication, and his inhaler, and bringing his phone charger, and calling me anytime, it didn’t matter how late. I’d also made sure to tell Amanda about his asthma. He’d wanted to kill me, and I could understand why. But thinking about that didn’t change the jumpy feeling inside me, just added to it.
“Come on, Frankie Blue. Let’s go outside.” She came running, and we went out the back, into the fenced-in area I’d built with Logan and Callum. I tinkered around back there for a while, then threw the ball for Frankie Blue over and over and over again. She never got tired, and before I knew it, I heard a car pull up out front. Frankie’s ears perked, and she began yapping. “It’s just Callum,” I told her.
I went through the house, puppy feet tapping along the hardwood floors behind me. I opened the door just as Callum got there. He swept inside, a pizza box and other stuff in his hands. “Well, hello to you too,” I joked, closing the door and following him into the kitchen.
“I got pizza, and it’s veggie because that’s my favorite and I deserve it tonight. You can eat it. Green stuff isn’t bad for you. You need more colors in your diet. Bar foods and appetizers aren’t a food group. But I was nice and got you chicken wings because I know you like them. We also have brownies because I love brownies. Do you like them?” He set everything on the table and turned to me.
“Yeah,” I replied, still trying to wrap my brain around everything he said. “And I eat colors and vegetables. I’ve been eating them even more lately.”
“Yes, but you act like it’s torture.”
“Do not.”
“Do so,” he countered. “You’re like a big kid with your food. I don’t know how you have a body like that without eating better.”
My pulse did this strange, stumbling thing.
Callum’s eyes went wide. “Not that I’m checking out your body or anything, but, you know, it’s hard to miss a lumberjack.” He turned away, began opening boxes, and then went straight to the cabinet where I kept the plates and grabbed two. He moved around the space as if it were his, familiar with it, which I guessed he was. Callum had eaten with us and hung out with us how many times by now?
“I’m not a lumberjack,” I finally managed to say, my voice slightly more raspy than usual.
“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.” He faced me again and playfully rolled his eyes.
There was my sarcastic Callum. Shit. Not mine. He wasn’t mine. Why had I thought that?
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Good. Let’s eat. I’m very angry about men right now, so it’s not the time to test me.”
I laughed. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” He handed me a plate, and I got two pieces of pizza and some chicken wings.
He was already taking a bite of his as he sat down. “You don’t even get what I went through today.”
Concern ate at me. “What happened? Is there something I can do?” I took the chair across from him.
“Pig out with me and let me vent.” He didn’t give me a chance to respond before he continued. “So…I decided I needed to hook up. It’s been a while, and it’s slim pickings in these parts.” It felt like something heavy sat on my chest, but Callum kept going, obviously unaware I felt weighed down for no reason. “I got on an app and met this guy. I paid for a room. Do you know how hard it sucks to have to get a hotel room to have sex? Well, it does, but I did it, and I skipped dinner, just to be safe, and got all ready for him—a lot of work goes into this, thank you very much. I mean, I eat well and take my fiber daily and know my body really well, so it likely would have been okay,