Page 65 of Raise The Bar
“It’s none of your business.”
“You know that’s not true.” His icy tone chills my very blood. “This has gone on long enough, Maggie.” He motions to the other room where steady dance music reverberates through the walls. “This could have been us. It should have been us. It still can be.”
This is getting me nowhere. “Go home, Mark,” I tell him as I attempt to walk around him. He grabs my arm, pulling me against him.
“You’re not listening,” he hisses. Before I can step back or push him away, his body is suddenly thrown into reverse faster than I thought possible.
“I’m pretty sure it’s you who’s not listening,” Callum’s low voice fills the room. I feel his words everywhere. He’s pinned Mark to the wall next to the exit. “She asked you to leave. You didn’t listen.” His tone is surprisingly relaxed, considering he’s literally holding a two hundred pound man more than a foot off the ground.
“Who the fuck are you?” Mark barks, finally getting over his shock. His face turns crimson as he tries to free himself, but Callum holds him firmly in place.
“I’m the wedding date,” Callum replies, smiling a little. “Now normally, I’d make some jokes, attempt to de-escalate the situation, so we could all part on good terms. But lately, I’ve been trying to communicate my true feelings. I have to admit, my gut reaction is to throw you out the fucking window for putting your hands on Maggie without her consent. But that doesn’t seem like the healthiest way to express myself. Instead, I’m going to ask you to do what the lady asked and leave.”
“And if I don’t?” Mark asks, losing some of his venom. Maybe it’s because he’s still hanging there like a puppet on a string.
“Then I will hold you here while Maggie gets hotel security and they will escort you out.” He looks at me now, his blue eyes searching for reassurance. “Is that okay with you, Maggie?”
“That sounds great, thank you for asking.”
He smiles at me, tentatively, then looks back to Mark. “What’s it going to be, man?”
“Fine,” Mark says, seemingly accepting defeat. “I’ll leave. Just put me down.” Callum does as he asks, dropping him to the floor. Mark straightens his suit jacket, gives me a scathing look and leaves without another word.
Callum waits until Mark disappears from sight before turning to me. The man is a vision in a light gray suit and a white dress shirt. His hair is combed back, and his beard has grown. He looks like he strolled out of the pages of a men’s magazine, or maybe Heaven itself. That familiar feeling, that electric current runs through my body again. I can’t believe he’s here. He studies my face, suddenly unsure of himself.
“Hi, Clark.” A smile spreads across his face at my words. Like a toppling string of dominoes, in one smooth motion. I savor that smile, knowing it’s just for me.
“Hi, Lois.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“The door was open and I heard your voice. You sounded upset and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He swallows hard, his eyes never leaving my face. “I needed to know that you were okay.”
“Why are you here?” His face falls and I backtrack. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m glad you’re here. I just didn’t think you would come.”
“I know, I…” he rubs his hand across his face. “I wanted to see you. I miss you. If you want me to go, I’ll leave. But I would like to stay. I know it’s your sister’s wedding and you’ve got a lot going on. I might be way out of line here. But when you have some time and are ready, I have a lot I need to say to you.”
A beat passes. Then another. I turn on my heel and walk to the door, sensing his body deflating behind me. When I reach the door, I close it and turn back to face him. “Now is good.”
“Now?” His eyebrows knit together in surprise. “Like, right now?”
“Yes. Now works for me.” I look at him expectantly and he laughs, shaking his head.
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath and walks a few steps in my direction. He’s close enough to reach out and touch me, but he doesn’t. “I told you relationships were not for me, but I didn’t tell you why. My mom was in a bad marriage for most of my childhood.” I soften at his words, but he’s quick to continue. “My stepfather was okay, at first. At least towards my mom. But he changed. He got mean. I pretended that everything was okay, but it wasn’t. I wasn’t okay. But I tried to be, for my mom. She’d been hurt enough already. And I got it in my head that I never wanted to get my heart broken, or worse, break someone else’s.”
“I can understand that,” I whisper, my heart breaking for the man standing before me and the boy he used to be. I’ve been telling myself all week not to hold out hope, but I wasn’t very good at listening to myself. “So you not wanting to be with me is because you don’t want to hurt me? Not because you don’t want me?”
“Maggie,” he winces. “Since the moment I met you there has never been a time when I didn’t want you. Not a day, not an hour, not a minute. I don’t know how to be someone’s boyfriend. I have no idea what to do or say. All I know is that I don’t want to miss out on being with you because I’m terrified of losing you.” His eyes somehow look bluer than I’ve ever seen them. “I know I fucked up. Please tell me I didn’t lose that chance.”
I move the slightest bit closer. “You want to be with me?”
“More than anything,” he confesses, the sincerity in his voice making me ache. “You’re my favorite person. The moment you leave a room is the moment I start to miss you. I’ve never been happier than I am when I’m with you. And ever since I woke up to you sleeping beside me, I have been waking up every day hoping to open my eyes and see your face.”
There is a moment in every romantic movie or book when the leading man admits his true feelings. His love interest then matches his proclamation with her own and then he sweeps her into a dizzying, passionate kiss.
So, naturally, I burst into tears. I mean, loud, unattractive sobs start in my chest and make their way out of my mouth. Callum has his arms around me in an instant and he holds me tightly as every ugly wail racks my body. One would think that after all the tears I’ve shed over the past week that I would have run out by now, but that is very much not the case.
He strokes my back while I cry, face buried in his shirt. He doesn’t shush me or tell me to stop, he just lets me feel everything I’m feeling. When I finally manage to regulate my breathing and pull away, I’m horrified to witness the mess I’ve made of his crisp white shirt.
