Claire spent most of the night looking at Callum.
Not the actual man. He’d left her to head back to his room and she’d made her way back to her own.
Instead, Claire stared at his photo. She’d found a number of them on the Internet when she’d Googled his name. Some of them were from his own website, but many were snapshots people had taken when they’d met him after an event, and then posted online.
Claire knew it was silly, but she felt the need to fixate on his image, very carefully, for hours before their date. Many women would want to look at a photo or two of the guy they were about to go out with. That was only normal. But Claire’s reasoning was anything but normal.
She was staring at his photo, at his body, from every angle, so she didn’t embarrass herself by doing it tomorrow night.
Claire hated herself. She felt small and petty and superficial. Callum was a handsome man. His upper body was fit and trim. His face looked like it belonged on a billboard in Times Square. When they were together, she had a difficult time tearing herself away from his piercing eyes.
But that was part of the problem. She’d been spending so much time lost in those baby blues, she hadn’t really spent much time looking elsewhere. And she knew she’d have to. In fact, she’d want to, if for no other reason than morbid curiosity. She just didn’t want him catching her doing it.
Callum’s physique was so odd. That was the only word she could come up with while she scrolled through the photos on her laptop screen. From the shoulders up, he was, perhaps, the most stunning man she’d ever seen. His blue eyes contrasted spectacularly with his jet-black hair. He had a dimple on his right cheek that popped out with delightful regularity. Callum smiled a lot and it was downright impossible for Claire not to smile back.
Yet she had a feeling there were many kids in school, when he was growing up, who didn’t smile back at Callum. She had a hunch he’d been the brunt of many a joke, many a cruel word or taunt. How could he have avoided such things? Kids are mean. They can pick up on even the littlest difference and exploit it to such an extent that the one being bullied begins to feel as if he’s a walking ball of disgust.
And that could be over nothing more than a pimple.
But no legs? One arm? She could only imagine the things Callum had heard on the playground.
He might have cheekbones any woman would kill for, but no one would be fighting to acquire the rest of his body.
Claire peered closely, her nose to the screen, at Callum’s left arm, or rather, what there was of it. It wasn’t completely gone. There was a small stump right below the shoulder. She felt guilty even thinking that word—stump. Somehow, it seemed so derogatory. So offensive. Was it even politically correct? But that was what it was, wasn’t it?
A stump where an arm should’ve been.
His legs were pretty much the same as the missing arm, gone, but not completely. She imagined, if he’d had full limbs, his knees would have appeared about six inches further down his leg. It seemed he’d “lucked out,” that he had a piece of leg at all. With what part he did have, he could sit relatively normally, his stumps sticking forward. Claire had seem images, online, of other amputees missing their legs, who seemed as if they needed to prop themselves up on their butts. It didn’t look comfortable.
Of course, having no limbs, in and of itself, didn’t look comfortable.
The fact she’d just distinguished between levels of comfort, when missing your legs, seemed ludicrous to Claire.
She needed to make sure she didn’t say something so obtuse at dinner. She didn’t want to offend Callum.
Claire glanced at the clock. It was after midnight already. She needed to get to bed. The team had a long day ahead of them tomorrow. It would be the second day of Callum’s seminar and Claire knew it would be much more exhausting than the first night. Though she had yet to attend one as a member of the team, she’d been to the one in Florida as an attendee and it had been an emotionally draining day for her. She could only imagine how much more tiring these days were for Callum and those who worked with him.
Snapping the top of her laptop shut, Claire jumped up and headed into the shower. She needed to relax and clear her head before even attempting to sleep. She hadn’t been on a date in close to twenty years. And she’d never been on one with someone who had any sort of disability.
There was so much to process. The date. The man. The disability. The new friends. The seminar. The singing. So much had changed in Claire’s life in a matter of weeks.
Then again, less than two years ago, so much had changed in Claire’s life in a matter of seconds.
The changes this time, though scary in their own way, were so much better. They were changes that promised hope and a future. Not complete and utter despair. She would take these changes over the other ones any day of the week. Claire had thought she’d never again have a single reason to look forward and, tonight, she realized she had many.
As she let the warm water cascade down her face and body, she closed her eyes and began to count her blessings. They weren’t the ones she used to have. They didn’t completely fill her soul like her family had, but they were blessings all the same.
And for that, she was grateful.
• • •
“So far, it’s going really well,” Claire said into her cell phone. She’d propped it up between her shoulder and her head, so she could attempt to get the little post of her earring through the tiny hole in her ear.
When did these things get so small?
“Uh-huh,” Claire continued. “I’m making some good friends and I’m enjoying singing again.”
The earring slipped into the hole. Success! Now if she could buckle the straps on her sandals.
“You can stop worrying about me,” Claire said, sitting down on the bed and sliding her feet into her shoes. She wasn’t making the same mistake as last night. These weren’t flats, but they weren’t killer stilettos, either. “No, Gia, I have not run away forever. This is temporary. I promise.”
She’d just finished the last buckle when there was a knock at the door. She glanced at the clock. It was exactly six. Callum was prompt. Claire liked that. She appreciated promptness.
Leaving the phone in the crook of her neck, she picked up a tube of lip gloss and quickly applied it. She glanced in the mirror.
Not bad.
“It’d better be temporary,” Gia said on the other end. “I’m so happy for you. I really am. I miss you. We don’t need to live together again, but I’d love to go out to dinner once in a while.”
Claire unbolted the lock on the door and pulled it open.
And then she dropped the phone.
Callum laughed from his place across the threshold.
“Are you going to get that?” he asked.
Claire could faintly hear Gia still talking from the hotel room carpet.
“Oh…um…yeah,” Claire stammered. “Give me a second.”
Claire bent down and grabbed the phone. She interrupted Gia, mid-sentence.
“Hey, listen, I’ve gotta go. Can I call you tomorrow?” Claire straightened and stared directly at Callum, holding the phone to her mouth. She couldn’t have pried her eyes from him even if she’d tried. “Thanks. Love you, too.”
She pressed the “End Call” button before Gia could say goodbye.
The two of them stood in silence for the next moment. Claire’s eyes met his, rolled down his body and then back up again.
“You look surprised to see me.” When Claire didn’t respond, Callum continued. “Did you forget we’re having dinner?”
“No. I’m not surprised to see you. I’m well, surprised to see so much of you.”
The Callum standing in front of her was, well…standing. She’d expected to look down at his chair when she’d opened the door and instead, had to raise her eyes to reach his.
Callum chuckled. “Ah, yes. I guess there have been a few changes since we last parted ways. You don’t approve?”
“Um…no…I mean, yes…it’s great…it’s so different. I…um…” Claire giggled nervously. “I wasn’t expecting you to look this way. But, it’s great. Though the other way is fine, too.”
Callum took her hand in his, clearly in an attempt to calm her.
“Oh, boy,” Claire said. “I sound like an idiot.”
“No, you sound normal,” Callum said calmly. “People are usually very startled to see me standing like this. When I add the arm, well, that really throws them.”
The arm. Claire hadn’t even noticed the arm. She’d been so blown away by the legs.
But, he had an arm. In fact, he had two of them.
Claire felt like she’d walked onto the set of The Twilight Zone.
“I rarely dress like this,” Callum said, gently letting go of her hand and motioning to his prosthetics. “Only for special occasions.”
“Oh, and this is a special occasion?” Claire asked, beginning to regain her composure.
“It sure is. It’s not every day I get to take such a lovely woman out to dinner. It doesn’t get much more special than that.”
“I’m flattered. Truly, I am.” Walking back into the room, she grabbed the sweater she’d left on the chair. “Where to, boss?”
“You’re beginning to sound like Wyatt.”
Claire smiled. “Do you like ‘Sir’ better?”
“Since we’re on a date, I’d really prefer the term ‘Handsome.’ ”
“You got it, Handsome,” Claire said. “So, where are you taking me?”
“Oh, the best place in town. At least, according to the little, old man I met at the Seven-Eleven today. I hope you’re up for Italian.”
“I love Italian! Lead the way.”
Callum extended the crook of his arm—the real one—to Claire. She hesitated for a moment and then linked her arm in his.
• • •
“You did not!” Claire said, laughing.
“We did! My brother carried me out of the ocean yelling, ‘A shark! My brother’s been eaten by a shark!’ ”
“No way. You were an awful child.”
“Oh, the worst. People started screaming and running. They didn’t know what to do. Parents were yelling for their little kids to get out of the water.”
Claire was laughing so hard, tears were literally rolling down her cheeks.
“Did you get in trouble?” She could barely get the words out through her chortles.
“A boatload! The police showed up.”
“Yep. They wanted to arrest me for causing a public disturbance. And I think they would have, but what were they going to do? Handcuff my arms together? Put me in shackles?”
“You’re terrible.”
Callum shrugged, but the grin never left his face. “I learned early on that if I didn’t laugh at my troubles, I was going to spend a whole lot of time crying.”
“Good point,” Claire said. “Do you get to see your brother much?”
“Not as often as I’d like. He still lives in Ireland, as do my mam and dad. They try to visit once a year, though. I’m sure you’ll meet them soon enough,” Callum said. “Okay, my turn.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where do your parents live?”
“They both passed away when I was younger. My mom died of cancer when I was a freshman in college and my dad had a heart attack three years later.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay,” Claire said. “It’s been a long time. What else?”
“Why’d you give up singing?”
“Oh, you know,” Claire said, trying to plaster her best, most sincere, smile on her face, though she was pretty sure she was fooling no one with it. “Life. Things just got in the way.”
“Like what type of things?”
Claire sighed. She was learning one of the things she was most fond of about Callum was he wasn’t surface deep. He never took a story at face value. He was inquisitive. He wanted to know more, and not in a nosey, obtrusive way. He genuinely cared about people. She’d seen it at his events. When people came up to him and told him about their problems, he listened. He didn’t pretend to listen. He really and truly listened.
And then he asked questions, because he cared.
She just wished he wasn’t asking so many questions of her.
“Well, wanting to pay the bills, for one,” Claire said. “I found I made a lot more money writing than I ever did singing.”
That was only a partial lie. She had made more money writing than she’d ever made with her music. The lie part was that she hadn’t given up the music for that reason.
“And writing was such a good job for working around my…” Claire caught herself and stopped.
“Around your what?” Callum asked gently.
“Oh, you know,” Claire said, ripping a piece off the bread that was still sitting on the table, though their meals had long ago been devoured. “Around my life. Okay, enough about me. Back to you. Do you like to write?”
“I do. In fact, I just finished my third book!”
“I guess that was a stupid question, since I already knew you’d written two other books.”
“Not stupid at all. I’ll bet a lot of people who write books don’t actually like to write.”
“You think?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I speak about how to find power through your pain, and a lot of publishers thought that concept would translate well into print. But though it seemed like a smart enough plan, and, thankfully, it turned out to be a financially fruitful one, it didn’t necessarily mean I would enjoy the process of writing it all down. Lucky for me, since I had to spend a lot of time working on it, I did, indeed, find it to quite pleasurable.”
“That’s fabulous. What’s the new book about?”
“Me.”
“Oh.” Claire chuckled.
Callum’s big grin appeared on his handsome face.
“It’s about my life,” Callum continued. “The other books have touched on my struggles, in relation to how others can move forward with their own lives, but this one goes more into depth regarding the struggles I’ve had. I hope it helps others overcome the adversities they face, especially those suffering from physical disabilities.”
“Well, I’ll bet it’s incredible,” Claire said. “When can I read it?”
“It should be out sometime next year, though if you’re really, really nice to me, I might let you have an advance copy. We might have to alter next year’s travel schedule a bit so I can do a bunch of book signings.”
“I hope you’re right-handed.”
Callum laughed so loudly, the people at the table next to them turned.
“You’re good,” he said, wagging his index finger in her direction. “Thanks for having dinner with me.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” Claire said, and realized she meant it.
“Well, I know I didn’t give you much of a choice, but still, I appreciate you giving me a chance.”
“A chance at what?”
“Wooing you.”
“Wooing me? Is that what this is?”
“Yes,” Callum said. “Is it working?”
“Hmmm…I don’t know,” Claire said, raising the corner of her mouth, as if this issue deserved deep pondering. “Split a very fattening dessert with me and I’ll think it over.”
“You’re on,” Callum said, lifting his hand to signal the waitress.
• • •
“That was fun,” Claire said, as they walked up the path, back to the house. It still felt so odd to have Callum walking beside her. He definitely had a limp when he walked, but walked well nonetheless. For much of the evening, Claire had completely forgotten about his disability. Part of that, no doubt, could be attributed to the prosthetics. It was likely no one else in the restaurant had even noticed he was missing any limbs. He’d looked like any other man enjoying a meal on the town. But, more than the fact that his body had looked complete, Claire had found herself so lost in who he was, and not what he looked like, that within moments, the physical aspect no longer mattered.
Except for the ones she found exceptionally attractive.
“It was,” Callum said, bringing her back to the present moment. “I had a wonderful time.”
“I haven’t been on a date in years.”
“That seems hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” Claire said, not making eye contact with him.
“I’m sure it’s not from a lack of requests.”
“Actually, no one else has asked me.”
“Well, now I know you’re lying,” Callum said.
“I promise,” Claire said, glancing sideways at him. “I’m not!”
“Okay,” Callum said, disbelief in his voice. “If you say so…”
He gestured toward the porch swing, a request for her to sit. Claire sat and then steadied the swing so he could sit down easily next to her.
“Ah. It feels so good to sit!”
“Oh! I forgot about your legs. Do they hurt?”
“They get sore if I wear them for too long,” Callum said, rubbing his right thigh. “Kind of like wearing those high-heels you had on yesterday.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s just like that,” Claire said, then turned to look at him. “You noticed my shoes?”
“I notice everything about you.”
Claire took that in, but said nothing about it.
“You know,” she said, instead. “You didn’t have to wear them—the legs, I mean. It would’ve been fine if you’d been in your chair.”
Callum smiled at her, with a softness that made Claire’s heart melt. “Thanks, love, but I never miss a chance to walk beside a beautiful woman. Listen,” he said, suddenly changing the subject. “Do you mind if I take off my arm?”
Claire burst into laughter.
“Now that is something no man has ever asked me. You get two points for originality.”
“Only two? Oh, come on. That had to be worth at least ten.”
“Okay, then. Ten. Go ahead,” she said, waving her own arm at him.
“Do you think you might be willing to help me?” Callum asked. “Or, is that an inappropriate thing to ask on a first date?”
“Of course, I’ll help you. What do I need to do?”
“If you could unbutton my shirt, that’d be a good start.”
Claire turned her body toward him and began to undo the buttons.
“I’ve never undressed a man on the first date.”
“Well, then, I’m glad I’m your first.”
“What’s next?” Claire asked, once she’d completed the buttons.
Callum hestitated. “You know what, give me a second. I can do it myself.”
“Honestly, Callum. I don’t mind helping you. Tell me what to do next.”
“Well, if you could help me take my shirt off…”
“Sure.”
Claire yanked at the sleeve and it slid off his real arm and then he used that hand to slide it off the other.
“I truly can do this myself,” Callum said, again. “It’s just a bit of a struggle for me. I’d need to stand to do it, or move away from this swing and it would take me a bit longer than it took you.”
Claire shook her head. “Really, it’s no big deal.”
She glanced up at him and realized he was looking at her, as if to see if her words were sincere.
“Really,” she said again, softly. “I don’t care.”
He nodded and then his face broke into a grin. “Okay, I have to be perfectly honest with you. I made a bunch of that up so I’d have a reason to get you close to me.”
Claire whacked him, good-naturedly, with the sweater she’d rested on her lap.
“You’re terrible.”
Callum winked at her. “Aye. That I am.”
“Wow,” Claire said, looking at the prosthetic arm system closely, now that his shirt was off. “It looks like you’re wearing a backpack.”
“A backpack with no pack, but does come with an arm.”
Callum slid the straps, from around each of his shoulders and then slid off the prosthetic arm, which was attached to the bands.
Claire tried not to stare, but it was difficult, and not because his left arm was once again missing. If she’d spent any time thinking about it, she would’ve expected Callum to be wearing an undershirt. Without his shirt and his arm attachment, he was completely bare- chested. The sight caused an inadvertent intake of Claire’s breath.
What was most shocking, even more so than the missing left limb, was Callum’s right arm. From the elbow up, it was covered in one large, expansive tattoo. Claire had never been a fan of ink. Jack had once joked about getting a small tattoo during a weekend trip with his buddies to Cancun, and Claire had put her metaphorical foot down immediately. No tattoo. No way.
She thought she hated all tattoos. That is, until this very moment.
Callum’s tattoo wasn’t of any particular image. It wasn’t an eagle or a flag or a skull, and, thankfully, not a woman’s face. It was tribal. Deep brown and gray. Flames of ink intertwining with his fair skin. Claire wasn’t sure if the design would be called a sleeve, because it only went as far as his elbow. But maybe a short sleeve? Claire doubted that was the hip term.
She wasn’t even sure the word “hip” was hip.
As her eyes followed the intricate design, she realized its path was taking her eyes to Callum’s chest. The tendrils of the design draped and unraveled across the right side of his body and down onto his abdomen. His body was shockingly masculine and muscular. He had a six-pack, an actual six-pack, like the ones Claire had seen in movies where the man rips off his shirt, buttons flying and women swooning. Callum’s chest was smooth and hard—not that she touched it—though she had to admit, she did think about it for the briefest of seconds. And he had pecs. Really, really good ones. How was that even possible? She could see how he might achieve those abs from doing sit-ups, but how does a person even begin to bench press when they only have one arm? Was there a prosthetic for that? She had no idea.
It didn’t really seem like the time to ask, either.
I notice your incredible muscles are of an even mass on both sides of your chest—not that I should be looking, but, how did you get them so symmetrical?
Claire felt herself blush and hoped Callum didn’t notice. She would definitely sound like an idiot if she said anything like that.
So, instead, she focused on the more practical aspects of his appearance. His stump wasn’t bare, as she’d expected it to be.
“Is that a Nike basketball sock?” she asked.
Callum smiled, mischievously. “There are socks you can buy that are designed especially for prosthetics, but if I can’t happen to find one of mine, which is often the case since I live out of a suitcase, I grab the nearest tube sock and slip it on.”
“I guess it makes the arm fit better?”
“Yep. And helps it not rub so much.”
Callum pulled the sock off with ease and set it down next to him, on the opposite side of the swing. And then, with no assistance from Claire, he slipped on his shirt.
“Funny,” Claire said. “You had no problem getting that shirt back on again.”
“Nope. Though you can offer to help me with my buttons whenever you like.” He hadn’t redone them, thus leaving bits of the tattoo, and his chest, visible through the front opening.
“Ha!” Claire said, keeping her eyes on his face and not any lower. “Now that I know you’re fully capable, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
“Well, that plan sure did backfire on me.” Callum grinned at Claire. “Would you like to hold my hand?” he asked, extending the prosthetic arm.
“Why, of course.”
Claire reached out and took the fake arm in hers. She placed it so it rested on both their laps. She made a point, though, to hold onto the hand.
“Wow. It’s lighter than I would’ve thought.”
“Welcome to the world of prosthetics,” Callum said. For a moment, neither of them spoke, both staring out into the darkness. “You’re a fascinating woman, Ms. Matthews.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. I don’t always know what to make of you.”
“Are you implying you’ve spent time trying to make something of me?”
“Perhaps I should be embarrassed to admit it, but I have.”
“Oh. And what have you come up with?” Claire asked.
Callum leaned back, deeper into the swing. “I think you used to be very happy. And then, suddenly, one day, you weren’t. How am I doing?”
“You’re good. And what am I now?”
“Now? You’re doing your best to be happy again, but there’s a big part of you that’s still very, very sad.”
Claire didn’t say a word. She pushed the swing backward with her legs and gently let it rock. She didn’t allow herself to make eye contact with Callum because, she knew, the moment she did, the tears would begin to flow.
“Claire,” Callum said. “I don’t want to pry. Your personal life is just that. Personal. But, if you ever want to talk about anything, I have to say I’m a pretty good listener. So, whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’m ready to listen. And, if you’re not, then it’s more than enough for me to sit here on this swing, next to you, enjoying the night.”
Claire continued to stare out into the night. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him. If anything, she was drawn to him. He felt safe to her. He was a soft place to fall. She’d known that from the first moment their eyes had locked. She didn’t know where to begin. She had never told anyone her story. Everyone in her life, before here, already knew.
“I graduated from college a week after I turned twenty-one and got married to Jack a week after that.”
Claire kept her eyes focused into the distance, but she could sense Callum’s body language, next to her, and it indicated no surprise at what she’d said.
“We began dating at the beginning of my senior year, right before my dad died. We were married for a couple of years when I, unexpectedly, got pregnant with Luke. It was quite a shock. We hadn’t been planning on having kids for quite a while. Four years later, we had twins. Lily and Ella. After that, it was a whirlwind of diapers and car seats and birthday parties.”
Claire took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“We were heading to my in-laws’ home for the Christmas break. It was late at night. We purposely left late because I wanted the kids to sleep as we drove. They fell asleep right after we stopped for dinner. I must’ve dozed off, too, because all I can remember is a large crash and the car spinning out of control. A drunk teenager had gotten on the highway going the wrong direction. Jack swerved to miss him, but…”
She hadn’t wanted to cry. She’d tried her best. There was just no way to tell the story of how she’d lost her family without bursting into tears. If she lived until she was a hundred and two, she knew that would always be the case. She felt the tears begin to fall and she made no effort to wipe them away.
“I was told later that none of my babies, or Jack, suffered. They were all gone in an instant.”
Callum lifted his arm and placed it behind her on the swing. Gently, he began to stroke her hair. Claire was so lost in the memories, his touch barely registered with her.
“That was almost two years ago. For the first year, I did absolutely nothing. I mean nothing. I truly didn’t know how I was going to go on. Each morning the sun would rise and I’d think, ‘Why do I have to live to see another day?’ ”
Claire turned, ever so slightly, in her seat and looked directly at Callum.
“And then, one day, the woman at the grocery store counter told me I needed to go hear you speak. I actually listened to her, which in retrospect, is amazing in and of itself.” Claire smiled softly. “Until that moment, I pretty much hadn’t listened to anyone, not even my therapist, about how I should begin to reenter the world. I guess I looked at you and thought, no one understands my agony, but maybe this man, missing most of his limbs, who has clearly gone through so much of his own pain, maybe he’ll have something to say that will give me a reason to live.”
“And did I?” Callum’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Claire shrugged, a gentle smile on her lips. “Here I am. I realized, as you spoke, my life really was over—that is, the life I’d led before. I could never get that back, no matter how much it ripped my heart out. But, I still had a life ahead of me and it was my decision as to what I did with it. I could lie in bed and feel sorry for myself for the next fifty or so years or I could get up and honor my family.”
Callum lifted a strand of her hair and let it slip through his fingers.
“Do you still blame yourself?”
“What?” Claire asked, startled by his question.
“Do you still blame yourself?” Callum asked again.
“I didn’t say I did.”
“I know,” Callum said, picking up another strand of hair.
Claire looked back out into the night, sitting very, very still. She didn’t know how to answer Callum’s question. No one had ever asked it before.
“I was the one who wanted to leave late in the afternoon. I wanted us to drive while they slept so I didn’t have to hear the arguing and whining during the whole drive.” The tears began to fall faster down Claire’s already wet cheeks. “If I’d only agreed with Jack to leave earlier in the day, or even packed us dinner so we didn’t have to stop, we wouldn’t have been there, in the path of that car, at that moment.”
“You had no way of knowing that.”
“You don’t think I’ve told myself that a thousand times? A million times?” Claire’s voice rose and she was embarrassed she couldn’t seem to keep herself calm. “It doesn’t change the fact I put us in the path of that drunk driver.”
“Claire,” Callum said calmly. “Listen to yourself. There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop this.”
“Then I should have died with them. I wanted to die with them.”
“I know it feels that way. But for some reason, it wasn’t your time.”
Claire turned and looked directly into Callum’s blue eyes. She was surprised by their shade. They weren’t the sparkling blue from dinner. They were a dark blue that reminded her of a windy and cold night at the ocean. He hurt for her and it showed in the windows to his soul.
“Why couldn’t it have been, though? Why did I have to stay here, to feel all this pain? Why couldn’t God have taken me, too? You’re always talking about there being a plan, Callum. What was this one? How could there possibly be a plan to this?”
“I can’t answer that,” Callum said. “But clearly, there’s a different plan for you. That’s not always easy to hear. Trust me. I know.” His voice was deep and grave and Claire knew he did know. He understood her pain because he’d dealt with more than his own share of it.
“Can I ask a question?” Callum asked, after a moment.
“Sure.”
“How’s it going so far? Joining us?”
Claire lifted her right hand from where she’d been holding Callum’s prosthetic one and wiped away some of the tears.
“Honestly? I knew I’d made the right decision the moment I met all of you, at that dinner. I don’t know what my future looks like, and it hurts like hell to think about my past, but I’m really certain this is where I’m supposed to be.”
“On this porch swing?”
Claire smiled and leaned back, into the crook of Callum’s arm.
“Right here on this porch swing.”
Callum leaned over and kissed the top of her head. The touch of his lips felt good on her hair. She felt safe and content, something she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.
Closing her eyes, Claire decided to forget the rest of the world. There was no more sadness. No more pain. Just Callum and Claire. Sitting alone. Swinging along in silence.