Page 45 of Sunsets & Slow Dances

My mouth was watering, and it had nothing to do with the delicious smells or the food I was about to consume. “Okay, I want?—”

“I know.” His mesmerizing gaze remained trained on mine.

Without challenging how he knew my order hadn’t changed in the past ten years, I just walked to get us a booth. I had to, because if I stood next to him a moment longer, there was a very good chance I might spontaneously combust.

Thankfully, the one free booth in the dining area was tucked in the corner so it was perfect for privacy. The last thing I wanted was to be bombarded with questions about what was going on between me and Callum. Also, it was right beside the fire extinguisher, so that would be handy if I did happen to burst into flames.

As I sat in the tucked-away area and attempted to give myself a mental cold shower, I watched Callum standing in line. He was so similar, yet different. It was hard to explain. Just like being here at Slice of Heaven was so familiar yet strange.

He had the exact same mannerisms. The way he dipped his chin when he was waiting for a response. The way his lips twitched just before he smiled. The exact same purposeful gait. The same commanding presence that drew attention in each room he entered. The same quiet air of authority in his stance. The same hand placement when he opened a door, which was always above me, so I walked under his arm. His voice had the same sexy gravelly tone that used to make me wet just hearing him say my name; I’m sure it still would, I hadn’t heard him say it yet. He definitely smelled the same. The citrus, earthy musk that was uniquely his that smelled as if the sun had been shining only on his skin.

There were some differences, though, of course. He had new tattoos on his neck, his hands, and his forearms. Seeing the ink that hadn’t been there before made me want to explore his bodyand discover what else he’d added to the masterpiece that was—his body. The other change was one that wasn’t visible to the naked eye, which was ironic because it was his eyes. There was a sadness in them, or maybe not a sadness but a disconnect that I’d never seen before. Although, in fairness, that might just be me. He could have walls up that he didn’t have with other people.

After placing the order, he made his way to the self-serve soda fountain and filled up four drinks. On his short journey to our table, he got stopped a half dozen times by people who knew him and those new to town who recognized him; he took a selfie with a couple of guys who looked like they were in their early twenties and a kid who was probably around ten. He met each person with the same energy. He was kind but not friendly. Broody but not grumpy, if you will.

By the time he made it to the table, I could see that his social battery was drained. Callum had always been an introvert. It was something Mr. Knight hated. He wanted his son to play the role of the mayor’s kid and show up to town events as the golden boy of the town, take photo ops with his dad, shake hands, and pretend to play happy family. The problem was, Callum didn’t have a fake bone in his body. He couldn’t pretend. And he didn’t like big crowds of people. He hated being the center of attention, which was why I found it strange he’d chosen MMA as his career. He explained that in the cage, he had a job to do. He wasn’t thinking about the spectators. He was too busy channeling all the pent-up frustration and aggression he’d had to suppress his entire childhood. Once he explained it that way, it made more sense to me.

“Thanks,” I said as he set my Dr. Pepper in front of me and slid into the booth. I took a sip and asked, “So how are things going at the house?”

“Good.”

Neither of us pointed out this was the same booth we’d spent countless hours making out in whenever it was too hot or too cold to brave the outdoors. When weather permitted, we’d sit on the back patio, put our song on the jukebox, and slow dance at sunset. It was during those dances on the back deck that we planned our future together, which always included a house of our own with a back deck so we could continue our tradition of slow dancing at sunset to our song.

“Is it weird? Being back?” I was sure a lot of people had posed that question to him, but I was genuinely curious.

He stared at me for a long beat, not saying a word, and I found myself holding my breath, scared of what might come out of his mouth.

“Yes and no.”

I exhaled. That wasn’t bad, but it didn’t tell me much.

“Is it weird for you?” He played an Uno Reverse.

“What?” I pretended not to know what he meant to buy myself some time to figure out how to answer that.

“Me being back.”

“Oh, um…I mean, yes and no.”

His half-grin was a look of touché. If he wasn’t going to give anything away, then I wasn’t either. There was more silence, and I wanted to kick myself for letting these precious moments of opportunity pass me by. For so many years I’d practiced what I’d say if I ever got the chance to speak to Callum again, and now he was sitting right in front of me and I was blowing it.

“Matty’s a great kid.”

Pride filled his expression. “Yeah, he is.”

“I think?—”

“Do you?—”

We both spoke at the same time.

“Sorry, go ahead,” I told him.

He motioned to me. “No, please.”

“No, really, you first.”

He exhaled through his nose as he weighed whether or not he wanted to try and out-stubborn me, a game he rarely if ever won. He decided against it. Good call.

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