Page 56 of My Best Years

I unlock my phone, place it in his palm, and watch as he starts to type his number in.

I squint my eyes, narrowing in on how his thumb shakes as he taps it against the screen.

It appears to be more of a tremor than a nervous tremble. It’s almost as if he can’t control the movements. I lean in to get a closer look when I realize his entire hand is quivering.

The longer I watch, the more that something feels off. As a nurse, I have to address it.

“Callum,” I rush out. “Your hand… It’s trembling.”

His eyes snap up to mine before he drops my phone to the table. His face goes white as a ghost, like he’s shocked that I even noticed.

He opens and closes his mouth, unable to form a response.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He blinks a few times before replying.

“Uh, yeah,” he replies hoarsely. “It’s just… I think it’s just my nerves. This happens sometimes. I went to the doctor about it, and he seemed to think it was stress and anxiety.”

Stress and anxiety can definitely cause a person to feel on edge, but this… this looks different. I try not to think about all of the conditions I learned about in nursing school related to what I’m seeing now. Sometimes, my mind is like a Google search engine regarding anything medical. I have to create distance, or my thoughts will spiral into the worst possible scenario.

Maybe his doctor is right. Perhaps he’s just been under a lot of stress lately.

“If it keeps happening, you should see another doctor,” I suggest. “Get a second opinion.”

“I will.”

“Promise?” I ask, arching a brow.

“I promise,Mom,” he says in a sarcastic tone before letting out a chuckle.

I roll my eyes as my lips curve up in a grin. I didn’t realize how much I missed his smoky laugh until now.

I take another sip of my margarita, my eyes never leaving his over the rim of the glass. It’s so intimate, the way he never takes his eyes off me. Like I might disappear if he were to look away.

He lifts his beer to his lips and takes a long swig. Fireworks shoot off in my core as his throat bobs. Before I realize what I’m doing, my tongue peeks out to lick my bottom lip. His eyes drop to my mouth, blue fire in his gaze as he watches me closely.

Shit.

I’m going to need a freezing cold shower after that look.

“I missed you, Birdie.” His tone is guttural, full of gravel.

I watch the shape of his lips, how they pucker in the sweetest kiss as he says my name.

“I missed you too.”

I missed you so much it physically hurts.

After we finish our drinks, Callum walks me out to my car with his hand on the small of my back. Before he leaves, he places a faint kiss to my forehead, just like he would when we were teenagers.

I unlock my phone and make sure his number is saved before I drive off.

For the first time since he left, I feel like I’m eighteen again. Giddy and full of anticipation.

For the first time in years, I feel a spark of life.

EIGHTEEN

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