Page 94 of Things Left Unsaid

“Which routines in particular, Ida?”

“When you’d like to pick out menus?—”

“Menus?” I interrupt in confusion as Callan heads out to use the bathroom.

“We can agree on them a week in advance.”

I shake my head. “Grand-mèreused to be this formal before she turned eighty. I truly don’t miss those days. You do what you need to do, Ida. I won’t be here for long so it’s not fair for you to change your routines for me.”

“That’s quite defeatist,” Ida remarks.

Awkwardly, I cast a look at Colt.

He’s still staring at his phone.

Just when I think he won’t say a word, he rumbles, “This might be business, Zee…” His gaze finally lifts. Our eyes lock. “But you must treat this like your home. This is where our child will be raised whether we’re together or not—even if it’s only part of the time. If nothing else, make yourself comfortable here.”

Before I can sputter a response, he stands. The movement is pure grace. Years of horseback riding are evident in his elegant posture. His strength.

“I need to change clothes and visit HQ,” he informs the room at large and nobody in particular.

I watch him go.

Unsure why I feel like I disappointed him but knowing I have, I wish with every foolish part of my being that I was back in his arms and he was carrying me upstairs to make me his for real.

God, my stupidity knows no bounds.

Just like always, he’s pushing me away… and it’s all my fault.

Zee

Callan shows me to my room.

Along the way, he informs me, “I was going to dislike you on purpose.”

Amused by his candor, I state, “How’s that going?”

“You had to be nice. I didn’t expect that.”

“Do you naturally expect people to be awful?”

“Yup.” He shrugs when I wince. “Just in my experience. I’m glad you’re nice. Colt doesn’t deserve a bitch.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Nah. You have kind eyes.”

“I do?”

He nods. “It’s why I couldn’t be mean to you from the start. Plus, you look like this filly Colt’s gentling?—”

“That sounds like less of a compliment.”

“She has a great pedigree but she’s terrified. Of everything. You can whistle under your breath and she’ll bolt.”

“That’s where we differ, then. I’m not a bolter.”

“Isn’t that what you did when you headed to New York?”

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