Page 75 of Bidding War

JUNE

At the end of the day, I get a text from Callie for a dinner date tonight. I’d wanted to do Chinese delivery with Anderson, so I try to put her off. I haven’t seen her in what feels like a million years, but it’s my first day with Andre—sue me for wanting to celebrate with my boyfriend.

But she’s persistent. “I need to see your face.”

Crap. That can’t be good, right? So, I relent and agree to meet her at a bar near my place. Not Kelsey’s. I’d love to throw the business his way, but I already feel guilty for not working there right now. I do not need his wounded puppy eyes on me while I’m trying to pay attention to Callie.

When I walk in, she waves at me from a booth on the side. The place is the typical Boston establishment—booths along the walls, dark wood everywhere, a little too crowded for comfort—but it’s nice enough. I make my way to her, plopping across from her in the booth. After we order beers, I ask, “What’s wrong?”

She frowns in that uniquely Callie way. A graceful dent forms between her blond brows. That’s it. Not that she’s been Botox-ed to blankness. For her, it’s natural to have a lineless face. Callie Brown was born without imperfections. I’d hate her for it if she weren’t so damned sweet.

“It's Daniel. I think he might propose.” Happy words said with a bad tone do not make my mood any better.

“And that is bad because?”

“Because I don't know what to tell him.” She worries her bottom lip.

“Callie, ever since you two started dating, all you've talked about is marrying him. What's changed?”

“That's just it. June, nothing has changed.”

I frown at her, significantly less graceful than she frowned at me earlier. “And that's a bad thing?”

She fidgets with her cardigan. “Think about it. Nothing has changed between me and him. Things just keep getting better. He's a divorced man. I'm pretty sure his first wife thought the same thing.”

Ah. “You're waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Nervously, she nods. “I can't be naive in this. I have to go into it with my eyes open. If he's going to leave me?—"

“Callie, that man thinks you hung the moon.”

“But I didn't.” Her eyes darken.

I shake my head. “What are you getting at?”

She licks her lips, then clenches her jaw. Her hand wraps tightly around her drink. “Daniel thinks of me in a certain way. He thinks I'm perfect.”

“So? Isn't that a good thing to have in a husband?”

“I'm the other shoe that will drop.”

None of this makes any sense. “You're going to have to explain this to me using very small words because I am completely lost.”

“He thinks that I'm perfect, June. He's going to figure out that I am not. And then he's going to leave me.”

I smile, rolling my eyes. “Okay, he doesn't actually think that you're perfect, honey. That's just a figure of speech people use.”

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a note, sliding it across the table. “Oh yeah? Read that.”

I open it up, and inside is a hand-scrawled note reading, “I didn't have it in my heart to wake you. But I feel compelled to tell you this. I find you beautiful, Callie. It's such a fiery, fierce beauty, like a white-hot star. You could burn me with your beauty, and I would thank you for the scar. You are my perfect angel. Never forget.” A mix of emotions hit all at once.

“He really wrote you this?”

She nods nervously. “I woke up to it this morning.”

“Okay, but like, he knows you're not perfect. I mean, you wake up with morning breath like the rest of us.”

Her pouty lips smooth into a thin line. “Not with him, I don't.”

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