Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“Where did you go just now?” Callie asked, brows pinched.
I shook my head. “Nowhere.”
She frowned but shrugged, taking another sip of her whisky. Her lips plumped over the rim of the glass and glistened with the amber liquid after her sip. I found myself licking my own lips at the memory of how soft her mouth felt beneath mine, on my skin, around my—
“So …” She gestured around the room. “This seems like a nice part of London.”
Small talk. I could do small talk if that’s what she needed.
“Aye. Lucky to be blessed with a wealthy family,” I answered dryly. “Hopefully I’ll start earning enough to cover my own bills now, though.”
The corner of her mouth kicked up. “I hear that. Mum paid for me to go to school in Paris. There was no way I could afford it otherwise. But I’m hoping that what I’ve learned will benefit her, too, by benefiting the bakery.”
“Sometimes it makes me feel guilty. The money. The advantages. I have a friend. Sean. Really nice bloke. From Dublin. He was brought up in care, moved from foster home to foster home. Worked his arse off to go to UCL to study architecture and then had to work harder than any of us to stay here. The guy barely slept he had so many side jobs, just so he could afford the shitty flat he had to share with two other blokes, who were not good human beings.” I scrubbed a hand over my beard. “I asked him in third year to move in with me, that my rent was covered, so he could focus on class and the internships. He got so pissed off, saying he didn’t need the handout. It made me feel like a privileged arsehole.”
“I think it was a kind offer.”
“But do you say that as someone who comes from money?”
“No.” Callie shook her head. “You forget that before Mum and I came here, back when I still called her Mom”—she slipped into her American accent with ease—“we had nothing. We lived in a studio apartment and instead of a living room we had two twin beds. Mum tried to hide how hard things were, but I could always sense her worry and stress. Any help we got was so appreciated. Our neighbors were this amazing couple, Juanita and Eli, and even though they didn’t have much themselves, they helped us out when they could.” Callie gave me a reassuring smile. “Your offer to your friend was generous. I’m sure deep down he was grateful for it. But sometimes we must do things for ourselves. Especially if that’s all we’re used to.”
“I’ve never had to do anything for myself. I’ve always known that if shit hit the fan, I had my family’s money to bail me out. Doesn’t say much for me, does it?” I didn’t know why I was telling her this stuff. It was so easy to fall back into real conversation with Callie. And for the most part, our relationship had been strong because we could tell each other anything. The one thing I hadn’t been able to voice had been the very reason we broke up.
I believed now if I’d been honest with her, we’d have worked things out.
“I’d agree if you didn’t work your arse off. You didn’t get into UCL because of your family, Lewis. You didn’t graduate with job offers to several top architect firms because of your family. That was all you. You’ve never been lazy, and it would be so easy to be lazy in your position.”
Pleasure rippled through me. “How do you know about the offers from the firms?”
Callie rolled her eyes. “Don’t get a big head. Eilidh told me. Your sister likes to tell me things about you all the time that I don’t ask to know.”
I didn’t want to believe her. I wanted to believe that she ate up whatever bit of information about me she was fed. Like I did with her. “So … why Paris?”
If she was surprised by the change of subject, she didn’t say so. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, when we were together, you never mentioned it. How did it come about?”
“I actually was going to talk to you about it before we broke up,” she said tonelessly, like our breakup no longer bothered her. “Thought we could come up with a plan. Maybe for you to do a transfer to a French uni for a couple of years while I trained at the pastry school. Or we’d wait until you’d graduated and then go. I knew you wanted to travel, so I thought you’d have liked the idea.” That’s when I saw it, the crack in her facade. Her smile was pained.
As for me, I felt like my chest was splitting down the middle. “I would have loved it.” It wasn’t a lie. It would have been the perfect balance for both of us. A chance for me to live elsewhere for a time, to see a bit of the world, until we came home to Ardnoch. Knowing what I knew now, missing my home like I never imagined I would, I would have been more than happy with that plan.