Page 34 of The Final Rose

“Dorky parts,” she interrupts.

I scoff and shake my head. “But you. You’re the only one.”

The second the words are out of my mouth, I know I made a mistake. Callie blinks a thousand times in a second, her whole body going rigid. It’s like a malfunctioning robot. I’d make fun of that if I wasn’t so scared to fuck up again.

I don’t know why Callie changed with me. And I know if I ask, she’ll play crazy. She built a wall in the last weeks, and I can’t figure out why. But I don’t want her to do it again.

Callie is something else I never thought was possible. I’m at ease in her presence. I’m me. And I’ll respect any boundaries if it means enjoying her company again.

Trying to bring her back, I clear my throat and ask again. “What are you saving for?”

“What?” She blinks some more.

“What are you saving for?” I repeat.

“Oh.” She has a lump in her throat. “I want to buy a house for my parents. They still rent and I know Dad says they are ok but…”

“You want to give them something.”

She nods, licking her lips. “I’m first generation. Mom and Dad worked their whole lives to give us everything they could and now that we are grown… it’s the least we can do.”

“We?” I ask. “Do you have siblings?”

She bobs her head. “Two idiot brothers. They have a construction company together. Our old neighborhood isn’t the safest place, but my parents have been living there for the last thirty years and they won’t move.” She flicks her wrist, showing me it’s an ongoing argument with the Sosas. “But we found something affordable and big enough. Comfortable. Ben and Dario say they can work on it if we buy. It’s old, but…”

She stops herself from talking, and a small smile tugs at her lips.

“Ben, Dario and Callie.” I test their names.

“Benicio, Calliope and Dario.” She corrects me.

“Ah, you’re the middle child, Calliope?”

“You’re not allowed to call me that.”

I smile, “Why?”

“Because that’s Dad’s privilege.”

I shrug, “It’s your name.”

After a second, she talks again. “Does anyone call you Seb?”

“Mother never liked nicknames very much.”

“Oh, she would hate a Latino household. I barely remember most of my cousins’ real names. Just whatever insane word their friends call them up and down the street.

I can’t stop smiling. It sounds like she has a normal life. Friends, a loving and crazy family. It’s almost ridiculous how deliciously normal it all sounds. Every child should grow up like that. A bunch of cousins, nicknames, friends, and family. I bet her mother cooks well, and her father dotes on her. That her brothers are overprotective, and she drinks boxed wine with her friends.

“I thought old British ladies call themselves Birdie and Bunny…” She wriggles her nose in an attempt at an English accent and I chuckle.

“One has to be creative when every other person is called Margaret or Elizabeth.”

“Is Sebastian an original or…” She doesn’t even get to finish and I’m shaking my head.

“My grandfather was Sebastian. As my father is George, like his grandfather. I’m assuming I need to have an heir called George to keep the lineage strong.”

“It’s the oldest English witchcraft, after all.” Callie bobs her head.

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