Page 52 of Pinky Promises

“I’m not talking about that, Callum. I’m referring to a wife. You can’t live the bachelor life all your life.” My entire life? I’m not even thirty. “Frederick Windsor, who we are working with, has a daughter who has agreed to be your wife.” Agreed? How can she agree to something that’s so far-fetched—it’s not happening.

“Woah, hold the fuck up. Wife? Marriage? What is this, the 1600s? Are you seriously trying to ask me to be in an arranged marriage?”

“No.” I breathe a breath of relief. “I’m not asking. You and his daughter getting married is in the fine print of the company merger that he and I agreed on.”

What in the ever-loving fuck? Has this man seriously lost his fucking mind?

“No—” I stand, pushing my chair back with enough force it knocks over.

“Callum, sit down. You’re making a scene.”

God forbid I make a scene when he has proposed the most absurd idea I have ever heard.

I right my chair and take a seat. I tug on the knot of my tie, trying to loosen it. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable in these clothes than I do now. “There is no way in hell I’m agreeing to this.” I lower my voice but don’t remove the intensity of my tone.

“You have no choice in the matter.”Of course he would feel that way.I’m grinding my teeth so much I fear that I might chip a tooth.

I shake my head over and over. “I’m not marrying some girl I haven’t met or, fuck, one that I’m not in love with.”

There’s only one woman I want to see wearing white in front of me—Brynn. I almost fall over at how much that image makes me feel. Just the thought alone has me ready to drop on one knee to make her mine forever. These stupid rules Brynn has put in place are just a formality; she is mine, and I plan to make the fantasy a reality one day. Yet here we are talking about me marrying a stranger, which has me ready to run and never look back.

I get up from my chair, ignoring the waiter, who has approached asking if things are okay.

“I was just leaving. Sorry for the trouble,” I say to the waiter before I turn to my father. “Sorry you had to drive here for that, but it’s not happening.”

I turn my back on the man who is supposed to be my father and stand by me, guiding me through life.

“Think about it, Callum. I won’t let you say no,” he shouts behind me, but I don’t acknowledge him. Once outside of the restaurant, I feel like I can finally breathe. The anger is still seething in my veins. I can’t go right home, or I’m afraid I will lash out at Brynn. I begin walking and don’t stop.

After hours of walking around, I arrive back at the apartment. The door isn’t even closed before Brynn rushes to me, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. The force from the surprise attack has my back pressing up against the door, shutting it with a loud click. She holds me so tight it was as if she was afraid she’d never see me again.

“Well, hello to you, too. Now that’s quite a greeting. Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? You mean, are you okay? I’ve been calling all afternoon.” After the third call from my father after I stormed out of the restaurant, I turned my phone off. I wasn’t even thinking that maybe someone else would call.

“I’m sorry.” I hold her to my chest for a moment before pulling back. I cup her cheeks and stare into her eyes—fear and unshed tears glaze over the blue hues of her irises. She’s scared and upset because of me.

“You had me so worried. I almost went as far as calling your dad.” She lets out a strangled, forced laugh as a tear finally falls. My thumb reaches out and catches the teardrop on my skin. I can’t take this anymore—I seal my lips to her. With each swipe of my tongue, I’m begging for her forgiveness without words.

I lean down, placing my arms underneath her knees, scooping her into my arms, and make my way to the couch.

She yelps in surprise before settling against me. It seems she likes being in my arms just as much as I love having her there.

I sit down on the cushion with my best friend still perched on my lap and in my arms. I hold her as our heart rates calm down from the chaos together.

Neither of us moves, embracing the calm not only we both needed but that we also bring to each other. Brynn stirs in my lap and begins to run her fingertips up and down my arms. The tension slowly fades with each stroke of her skin on mine.

This moment feels right—us here and now like this.

I press my lips to the top of her head, inhaling her shampoo.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, baby.”

“It’s okay.” Although I know it’s not. However, now is not the time to argue with her.

“I just needed a moment after lunch with my father.”

Brynn shifts and runs her fingers through my hair. I close my eyes and smile; she knows just what I need when I need it. The tension in my body from today’s events eases from her touch.

“Did something happen at lunch, Cal?”

Oh, you know, my father pulling his typical bullshit of only wanting to see me because he wants something, and that something is marriage to a woman for his gain. I should tell her everything that went down. Instead, I say, “No, you know how Charles Murphy is. I just needed to decompress. I just lost track of time. I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long and worrying.”

What the fuck are you doing, Cal?

Why not tell her the truth? Why keep this from her?

When have I ever lied to Brynn?

In my almost twenty-eight years of life, I have only ever lied to her once—when I told her that taking our relationship past the limits of friendship wouldn’t change anything between us. We were fooling ourselves to believe otherwise. The moment her lips touched mine for the first time, I knew I would never be able to walk away from this—from her.

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