Page 45 of My Best Years
“Oh, is your name Birdie?” she chimes.
I furrow my brows in confusion.
“Yes,” I nod.
She looks down at her tablet and touches the screen before meeting my stare.
“You’re here to meet Callum, right?”
“Right…” I reply hesitantly.
Her eyes light up at my response.
“Great,” she beams. “He’s been here for about an hour. He said he wanted to make sure to get a private table. Follow me; I’ll take you back.” She grins before spinning around and leading me into the restaurant.
My chest constricts when I think about Callum arriving an hour early just to make sure we have privacy. It kind of makes me feel rude for showing up at the last second.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a nearby window and quickly run my fingers through my wild hair. I lower my hands and reach for the hem of my thigh-length sundress, tugging on the yellow material to make sure it’s covering my ass. I didn’t remember it being so short when I slipped it on, but I was running late and didn't have time to change.
Paralyzed with anxiety, I laid in bed for hours after I put my groceries up. My mind spiraled with thoughts of what could have happened to Callum, all of which were terrible. I stared at the ceiling as tears leaked from the corner of my eyes. Part of me felt weak for agreeing to meet up with him tonight. But the other half of me was overcome with grief for not knowing. For not being there for Cal when he needed me most.
“I almost died that day, Birdie.”
Those were the five words that immobilized me. I felt like I couldn't move my limbs as I watched the ceiling fan spin around in endless circles. I sobbed, and then I ugly cried. How could I have been so close to losing him but never knew?
When I finally dried my tears and checked the time, I had less than twenty minutes to get ready. So, I quickly settled on a simple sundress paired with sandals. After attempting to braid my hair or wear it in a trendy ponytail, I gave up and left it loose, cascading around my shoulders.
Captain Ray’s looks like exactly how you would imagine a local seafood restaurant. The floors are old hardwood, and the ceiling is covered with wooden beams and fishing nets strung from corner to corner. Photos of fishermen displaying their best catches decorate the walls.
The back of the restaurant is illuminated by four largewindows that display the outside deck. I see a cluster of small tables scattered around the patio through the glass.
But only one of the tables is occupied…by Callum Pierce.
His body is a hazy silhouette, barely visible against the setting sun. But I instantly know that it’s him. I could find Callum out of a room full of a thousand doppelgängers. Like a shadow looming behind me, I’ve always been able to feel his presence.
I feel a jolt in the pit of my stomach as the hostess walks me through the door leading out to the deck. My breath comes out in short gasps as anxiety surges through my veins. You would think that I’m meeting a blind date, not the guy I’ve known since I was eight years old.
But to be fair, we went a decade without seeing each other. We were only eighteen when he left, and now we’re knocking on the door of our thirties. We’re completely different people than we were back then. In a way, it is kind of like meeting a stranger.
“Right this way,” the hostess says over her shoulder as we walk directly tohim.
It feels like everything is happening in slow motion as Callum stands from the table and pulls my chair out for me. An apprehensive smile curves his full lips as the sea breeze blows through his raven curls. His blue eyes almost look violet as the golden sunset mixes with his irises.
Even after all these years, I’ve never laid eyes on a man as gorgeous as Callum Pierce. Not in a crowded bar. Not in a magazine. Not even on a movie screen.
For me, it has always been and will always be Callum.
I’ve dated other men, and even had a few long-term relationships. But none of them worked out because—well, I didn’t let them. I would always be the one to end things because how could I subject a good man to a lifetime of emptiness? Howcould I vow to love them until death do us part when I’ve already sacrificed my heart to a man who stole it and left me in a sea of despair?
Even though I know I’ll never have Callum like I once did, he’s the only man who makes the little creatures in my stomach do backflips and cartwheels.
He’s wearing the same linen button-up shirt from earlier and a nice pair of navy pants. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, revealing his bronzed skin, prominent veins, and defined muscles.
I can’t get over how manly—howsexy—he looks now.
Don’t get me wrong, Callum has always been good looking. But now, he looks like the men I read about in my romance novels. Not only has he gotten taller, but he’s also chiseled to perfection, and not in a beefy way. His body is lean, but burly; he could easily swoop me up into his arms and carry me for miles.
And the faint scruff lining his jaw…My God.