Page 37 of My Best Years

“Answer my question,” I prod through clenched teeth. “What did he do to you, Callum?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he deflects his gaze.

“Can we,” he stammers while looking around the parking lot, “talk about this somewhere else?”

My gaze stays laser-focused on him. My heart breaks with every second of silence that passes between us.

“Please, Birdie…” he begs, sounding defeated. “Please. I’m just asking for one conversation. Let me explain everything to you, and after that, if you never want to see me again, I’ll leave you alone. I swear.”

I stand still, unmoving for what feels like minutes, knowing I’m about to say yes.

How could I not after the bomb he just dropped on me?

“I need to go home and put up my groceries,” I finally respond.

He nods.

“Then let's meet tonight. How about dinner?”

His eyes dart between mine in anticipation as I purse my lips together.

“Fine,” I mutter. “But only if we meet at a restaurant. Somewhere public.”

Agreeing to have dinner with Callum is already amajorstep for me. Having dinner in the comfort of our homes would be…too intimate. Way out of my comfort zone.

His face falls with a hint of disappointment.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Where do you want to meet?”

Since I’m new to Gulf Shores, I let him pick.

“You decide,” I answer. “But can we go somewhere that’s not going to be packed with tourists?”

I have a feeling that our conversation will get emotional, and I would prefer not to have a crowd for that.

“Of course,” he nods. “How about Captain Ray’s? It’s a spot for the locals. Super lowkey.”

Jesus Christ.We’re actually doing this…

After eleven years, I’m agreeing to have dinner with Callum Pierce.

“Sure,” I breathe. “I’ll meet you there at seven…if that works for you–”

“Yes,” he replies before I even finish my sentence. “I’m free whenever you are. Seven is perfect.”

My cheeks flush at his eagerness. I hate that I find it kind of endearing.

“Alright,” I respond, attempting to hold back a soft smile. “I’ll see you there.”

Callum, however, doesn't hold back his boyish grin. His lips turn up in a triumphant smile that reminds me of when we were kids.

“Do you want me to give you my number so I can text you the address?”

“No,” I shake my head, not wanting to open up that can of worms. “I’ll just look it up on my phone.”

I can’t help but feel terrible when his eyes flinch with hurt. I hate being so cold to him, but I just don’t trust him yet.

“Okay…” he trails off.

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