Page 54 of Callow
“We have to bake Callow those cookies you promised him,” she said, glancing over at me.
It was not the first time she’d brought up Callow since the night he’d left our apartment.
It wasn’t even the twentieth time.
The girl was relentless.
And I’d been, I don’t know, hesitant.
First, because of the guilt. I mean, I’d been out with Callow on a damnislandwhen my kid needed me.
Besides that, I don’t know. I felt weird about it. Not embarrassed exactly. I refused to feel bad about how upset and not myself I’d been. But there was some internal discomfort over the way I’d reacted to Callow’s goodness.
I mean, it sounded insane, but I felt like I’d all but fallen completely in love with him over the course of one night.
When he’d shown back up at the hospital with clothes for me. Because he knew I was wet and freezing. Then he’d just… stayed. Been a rock for me. Brought us coffee and hot chocolate. Made plans to help us feel safe in our home again. Then actually come and installed all of those systems himself.
I knew, logically, I hadn’t fallen in love with the man because of that. It was just the shock and relief of not being alone, of having someone strong enough to rely on.
Hell, I was feeling a little weepy just remembering that feeling.
I prided myself on being independent. On being strong. But, God, it was exhausting. It was a tiredness that worked its way into your bones, into your marrow. For just one night, having someone be there, take the reins, give me a break had been surprisingly emotional.
“Mom?” Daphne called.
“Yeah?”
“The food store?”
“Right. Ah, yeah. Okay. What kind of cookies do you want to make?”
“What’s his favorite kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mommm.”
“What? I’m sorry. We didn’t quite get to favorite cookies yet,” I said, rolling my eyes at her.
“I guess chocolate chip then. Who doesn’t like chocolate chip?”
With that, we went to the grocery store then home. Where Daphne insisted we get started on the cookies right away.
And by “we,” I mean “me.” While Daphne sat on the stool watching and critiquing. Until, a few hours later, we had a plate piled high with perfect little round pillows of deliciousness.
“Can we bring them to him?” she asked when I was just about to go and take off my bra and settle in for the night, mind on some leftover pasta. Maybe a glass of wine. Or two.
What can I say? Despite the new locks and self-defense items, I was having trouble sleeping. I jumped at every sound in the building. I was suspicious of every shadow. I checked on Daphne almost compulsively.
A glass of wine might just allow me to actually get a full night of sleep for a change.
“Mom?” Daphne called.
“Hm? Sorry. What?”
“Can we bring the cookies to Callow?”
“Right now?” I asked.