Page 59 of Sunsets & Slow Dances

“We didn’t always fight.”

“Yes, we did,” I insisted.

“No,wedidn’t.”

“What does that mean—wedidn’t?” I knew exactly what he meant, and he was right.

“It means exactly what I said:wedidn’t,” he reiterated.

“So you’re sayingIdid. All of our fights weremyfault?” My defensiveness was completely baseless. They absolutely wereallmy fault. I knew that.

“I didn’t say anything about fault.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I just saidwedidn’t fight.”

“Stop,” I warned him. He knew what my buttons were and loved to push them.

“Stop what?” he asked with the most innocent Boy Scout expression on his face.

I pointed at him. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

His phone vibrated again, but this time, he ignored it and didn’t even break eye contact as he waited for my response. We stood two feet away from one another in the kitchen, playing a silent game of who-talks-first chicken. The longer we stood there, the more agitated I became. I knew he knew that he was messing with me, and I knew that I shouldn’t let him. Despite that knowledge, when his phone vibrated again, the thin thread of self-respect and dignity I was holding onto broke.

“Aren’t you going to check that?” I challenged curtly. “You don’t want to keep your adoring publicwaiting.”

The second the words came out of my mouth, especially with the amount of disdain that dripped from those two words, I wished I had a word shop vac and could suck them back into my mouth or a control-alt-delete button to erase them from Callum’s memory. My possessive/jealous behavior was unacceptable when I was a teenager, and Callum was actually my boyfriend; it wasinsanenow that I was in my thirties and Callum wasn’t anything to me.

The only reaction to my ridiculous, juvenile, and unhinged statement was a tiny lift in his right eyebrow. “My adoring public?”

Heat warmed my cheeks, either from embarrassment or white-hot jealousy; it was difficult to tell at this point.

“Forget it.” I shook my head and walked past him into the front room. “I’m tired; I need to go?—”

I made it two steps before Callum cut me off at the bottom of the staircase, making my escape impossible. My only choice was to stop or walk straight into his chest. So many emotions were battling for top billing as I stood, staring at his broad, muscular chest an inch in front of my face. I was embarrassed at my juvenile behavior. I was devastated at the thought of Callum possibly being involved with one of those women. But most of all, I was just so madly in love with Callum it was almost comical.

For years, I’d forced myself to be numb to that love and how much I missed him; it was the only way I could survive. Now that he was back, all those feelings came flooding in like a dam had burst, and I didn’t know how to deal with them or where to put them. It was overwhelming. Tears began to form in my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away.

“Nadia,” he growled softly, and I could hear the concern in his voice.

When I didn’t respond, Callum placed his hand beneath my chin and tilted it up. Our eyes met, and he repeated, “My adoring public?”

There was no way I could have a conversation or even speak when I was this close to him and he was touching me. I took in a shaky breath and stepped back. Callum’s hand dropped to his side.

“I saw you with Kendra in the parking lot at Southern Comfort. She had her hands all over you.”

“She wasn—” he started to explain.

“Okay.” I lifted my hand as I clarified, “Notallover you. She hugged you and put her hand on your chest.”

He waited a beat before following up, “So Kendra is my adoring public?”

“No…I mean, yes, she is. If you had a fan club?—”

“I do, actually.” The right side of his mouth curled in a lopsided, cocky grin that made my ovaries throb. “I have a fan club.”

“Of course you do.” I rolled my eyes, pretending not to be impressed that he did, in fact, have a fan club. “I was going to say she would be the president, but I guess that role is taken.”

“No, she actuallyisthe president.”

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