Page 126 of The Proposal Pact
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Callum
“I was still searching for someone to blame for my suffering. I really wanted someone to transfer my hate to, so that I could stop hating myself.” — Glenn Beck
It takes a nanosecond for my feet to move and push a screaming Vassar away from my fuming Sophie. I knew things were spiraling fast when they switched from English to Greek to yell at each other.
“Do not raise your voice at my wife,” I growl. “Not now, not ever. She’s a grown woman and can make her own choices. Or, are you trying to tell me that you never make mistakes and lead a perfect life?” Vassar clenches his teeth, so I continue. “Thought so. But know one thing. This”—I wave a finger between Sophie and me—“is not a mistake, and I won’t have you attack her for it. Now, can weallbe adults over here, sit at thetable and talk?”
“Who do you think you are to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?”
“I don’t care who you think I am, but know that I’ll be your death if you hurt my wife in any way.”
Sophie might’ve smoothed out my ragged corners over these weeks and added a whole lot of color into my life, but the darkness is still there, and I’ll gladly unleash it to protect what’s mine.
Vassar doesn’t say anything back but turns and takes a seat at the dining table. Kira quickly follows him with a shit-eating grin on her face as if she was thoroughly enjoying her husband’s outburst.
I will never admit that out loud, but she’s the most terrifying person I’ve ever met in my life and those smiles are not fooling me in the slightest.
Sophie told me all about her being a big shot chef and owning a million restaurants, but she never mentioned the demons lurking behind those green eyes.
“I’ll go make that coffee now,” I say, kissing Sophie’s parted lips.
“Okay, I really need to use a restroom. Do you think you could stay in the same room and not kill each other while I pee?”
Vassar gives his sister a too-much-information look while I kiss her again, telling her it will be okay. She nods and quickly scurries into the bathroom as I take out mugs for that coffee.
“How old are you?” he starts the questionnaire before Sophie’s out of earshot.
“Thirty-four.”
“At least I’m older,” he mutters, making my lips tip up. “Been married before?” And just like that the atmosphere in here changes.
I swallow hard and shake my head. “No.”
“Do you have kids?”
The mug I was holding thumps hard against the wooden countertop. “No.”
“Do you love my sister?” I take a deep breath, my back stiffens as I bring my gaze to his, but no words come out. “It’s a very easy question that you’re taking way too long to answer, Callum.”
My eyes never waver from Vassar’s intense stare. He’s protective of his little sister, that much is obvious—and to that much I can relate.
But I—
“Oh, he loves her all right,” Kira coos from the side, drawing both out attentions her way as she tilts her head, studying me with her no-less intense gaze. “It’s as clear as day, Vassar.”
My heart gallops out of my chest, beating wildly and recklessly against its confinement.
Kira’s wrong.
I don’t love her.
No, Ican’tlove her.
I can’t love anyone. Because loving means losing, and I can’t lose Sophie.
Vassar frowns at his wife but she speaks again before either of us can, still studying me. “Whatever it is that’s holding you back, you have to leave it in the past where it belongs. Keep the memories, but not the hurt.”
