Page 29 of Simmer Down
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You really think we can make it for the next eight hours saying nothing to each other?”
No. “Yes.”
His gaze glides to my collarbone, then back up to my face. I wonder what that long glance was about.
“Don’t you want to at least try to see if we can get on temporarily?”
It’s a weird idea, using a childhood game to keep the peace between us. But it’s better than my strategy of stewing silently next to each other for the rest of the flight.
“Fine. I’ll play.”
He points at me. “Ladies first.”
“Okay. How does an English guy like you like living in Hawaii?”
He clears his throat. “It isn’t how I thought it would be.”
“How did you think it would be?” I try to sound as sincere as possible. I honestly want to give this attempt at civil conversation a fair shot. And I honestly want to know.
“A lot less yelling at people in public during work hours, for one,” he says.
I snort a laugh. “What else?”
“Three questions in a row? That’s impressive for someone who didn’t want to talk at all a minute ago.”
“Easy, tiger. If you keep hassling me, it’s back to loaded silence.”
His grin morphs into a smirk. “I was hoping for more days spent on the beach.”
I nod and try not to picture him walking out of the ocean like a naked ripped sea-god.
“Join the club,” I say. “I never in a million years thought I’d be living in Maui and running a food truck with my mom.”
He relaxes into his seat, his head lolling against the headrest as he turns to me. The gesture makes this feel like some strange brand of pillow talk.
“You’re not from Maui?”
I shake my head. “Born and raised in Portland, Oregon. My parents lived there until they retired. They wanted to live someplace warm year-round and chose Maui.”
“So you moved to be closer to them?”
“Sort of. Not at first.” I heave a sigh, wondering if it’s the smartest thing in the world to be so vulnerable in front of my competition. I opt for a shortened, sanitized version. “My dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer not long after they moved. He didn’t have much time left when they figured out what was wrong with him. So I dropped everything to be with him until he...”
I don’t say the rest. I don’t have to. By the pained look on Callum’s face, he knows exactly what happened.
“At the time I was managing my friend’s restaurant in Portland, and I loved it. But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t leave my mom alone in Maui, struggling in her grief under a mountain of medical bills. My dad’s treatment wrecked a lot of their savings.”
“So you gave everything up to take care of your mum?”
I nod, easing through a slow breath. As long as I stay measured and even in my tone of voice, I won’t break down.
“I promised my dad before he died that I would. And even if I hadn’t, I couldn’t have lived with myself if I had just abandoned her to fend for herself. I’m an only child, and the rest of her family is scattered all over the place. Her sister, my aunt, is the person I’m visiting in London actually.” I look down at my lap when I speak. I clear my throat, taking the extra moment to collect myself. “Plus, running a food truck was my parents’ dream. They always talked about doing it when they retired. But now it’s a way for my mom and me to spend time together while we support ourselves.”
I pause to take a breath, wondering if sharing this next part will make me feel even more vulnerable than I already do. “And it’s a way for me to live out my dad’s last wish.”
When I look up, his obnoxiously gorgeous face is twisted in an unfamiliar expression. Not pity, exactly, but not sadness. Something kinder. Empathy, I think. That wrinkle in his brow, the tenderness in his eyes, it’s like he understands exactly what it feels like to have your heart ripped out, your insides set on fire, when you lose a piece of your family forever.
“That’s incredible, Nikki. I bet that would make your dad so happy.”
