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Callum’s head jerks, and he scoffs at me. “Fran.”

I shrug. “I just happen to believe,” I say, each word coming out slower than the next as I speak and plan what I’m saying all at once, “that you do.”

He laughs a humorless laugh once more. “Well, you are wrong.”

I bite my lip. I heard what he said to Zev. I’m not crazy. I’m quirky and odd and nothing like Simone.

“The best thing Simone ever did for me was end things.”

Wait. My brows may be permanently furrowed. “Excuse me? I don’t follow.” I’m confused. He sounded awfully sincere with that statement.

“Simone. The kindest thing that woman ever did for me was cut me loose.”

I blink. I can’t seem to stop. “So… you don’t like her?”

“No.” He blows a puff of air through his lips. “For some reason, you have not heard me, but I do not like her. She was beautiful and sophisticated?—”

“I can see how that’s unattractive,” I mutter.

“And completely selfish. She hated my job.”

“But you’re a pro athlete.”

“I’m also in the minors. Not nearly as impressive as the majors. But my parents always taught me to be grateful, and that gratitude would make me happy. After my injury, no major team wanted me.”

“Your stress fracture,” I say, remembering when he briefly mentioned that.

“Yeah. But Jacobson—my coach—picked me up right away. He didn’t care that I was older than so many of the guys in this league, or that my injury slowed me down a trace.

” Callum did not look slow to me. “He’d been through the same thing.

He gave me a shot. And I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I felt for that shot, Fran.

But Simone constantly complained about my status.

She didn’t like my mother—who is an angel, by the way.

I went from talking to my family daily to checking in every other week because she said having a family relationship that tight was unhealthy.

” He sniffs. I’m not sure if he’s more annoyed with Simone or himself for listening to her.

“And Zev is right—she was toxic to my game.” He clears his throat. “And my life.”

“Huh.” Being nothing like Simone is starting to look better and better …

“I may not be interested in love.” His jaw clenches, and the muscles in his forearms tense. “But I am not hung up on that woman. Okay?”

I nod, my mouth dry. “’Kay.”

Callum lays the picture of him and the not-so-goddess named Simone face-down on his coffee table. “Now, can you sit? I wanted to ask you something.”

“Wait—so you really aren’t interested in love? That wasn’t just an excuse because you’re still in love with Simone?”

“Do I really need to say it again?”

“Callum.” My fingers itch. I want to reach for his hand so badly. “You can’t give up on love.”

“I’m not. I’m just not interested. There’s a difference. I may be a person not meant for love. Not everyone is the same. Now, can I ask you something?”

“Not meant for love… you aren’t a believer.”

“Fran—” he scolds.

“Right. Something. You have something?” I say, feeling as though I’ve run a mile when I plop onto Callum’s couch. Callum Whitaker giving up on love may be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.

“I’d like to make an arrangement… between the two of us.”

Okay—pause my sincere concern and color me intrigued. “What kind of arrangement?”

Callum clears his throat—like a nervous tick. “Well, you’ve been doing these remakes for a while now, yes?”

“A little more than a year. I started my freshman year of college, which was just last year. I’m at the end of my sophomore year now.

” I sigh and, per usual, tell a longer story than what he’s asking for.

“I know I’m late. But I couldn’ t afford to go to college right off the bat.

I had to get a little more in savings first. It’s hard to go to school or plan out a fun and saucy romcom remake when you’re worried about your next meal.

But once I got established with jobs, scholarships, and grants, I was able to relax a little. ”

“That makes sense. And you and Rose have been friends a while.”

“Rosalie and I have been together since her sophomore year. She started school right at eighteen. It took her an extra year to graduate because she changed her major. But she’s been teaching for a couple years now.

I told her my theory and ideas for remakes a couple years ago, and she got it.

She understood. This is how I’m going to find my person.

It’s like a no-fail scripted plan already laid out for me. ”

“And other than Rosalie,” he says with a smile, “how long has your longest relationship lasted?”

“Um…” I purse my lips and think. “Is that relevant?”

I’m completely serious, but Callum chuckles.

“Yes. It’s relevant.”

“Okay.” I sigh. “Not all that long.”

“So, maybe the remakes aren’t working.”

I shake my head. “That’s not it. I’m a believer. Cal?—”

“Hear me out. Your motives are pure. What you want and what you’re shooting for is worthwhile, Fran. But you were right—you need some guidance when it comes to the male perspective on this.”

I don’t object immediately, which is exactly what I want to do. But the man has a point. I’ve never had an inside male perspective until I asked for one. Until him. It could be exactly what my remakes need.

“Can I be completely honest with you, Fran?”

I nod, though I’m nervous. People like Paul and Professor Ellington tend to like telling me I’m wrong or ridiculous.

“The first change you need to make is the kind of guys you’re dating. Your karaoke buddy and Paul certainly aren’t worth your time.”

My cheeks flush. “You don’t even know them.”

“I know enough to know that you’re too good for that nonsense,” he says.

My cheeks flame now. Has anyone ever thought me worth anything? Besides Rosalie, I mean. My parents never did, that’s for sure. Which is maybe why I always swipe right. I’ve never felt like I had a right to be picky about men—when they look at me, I’m the very definition of imperfection.

But here’s Callum telling me that’s wrong. That I am worth something.

I know it. Now. And in my own way. But apparently not enough to be picky with the men I date. Because if I’m being honest and admitting the truth, I haven’t been picky. I say yes to every Paul, Doug, and Lance without truly knowing them.

“We need to find men who are worth your time. But first, we’re going to test out a few of these remakes. It’s time to see what’s working and what isn’t.”

My heart pounds in my chest. Callum Whitaker wants to help me. He’s telling me I’m worth it. “What do you get out of this?”

He swallows and runs a hand over his chin.

“I’m going to be completely transparent, and I don’t want you to take it wrong.

Because I like you, Fran. I truly consider you a friend.

” He blows out a sigh. “The thing is, I think you are my lucky charm. Whenever I’m with you, I ease up, and I play better.

My hope is that I will be of help to you, and in the process, just by the two of us being together, a little of your luck rubs off on me. ”

“So, you want to hang out with me because I’m lucky? You believe I help you win?”

“And!” he quickly adds, his brows pinched as if in pain, as if he thinks he’s offended me. “Because we’re friends, and I really do think I might be able to help you out.”

It’s not just the team. Callum believes I’m his luck too.

I can’t say I mind it. In fact, it has a nice ring to it. Fran Fairchild: lucky charm.

But more than Cal’s lucky charm, more than him helping me get a man’s perspective, I have the chance to save Callum’s sad outlook on love. He’s giving me that chance without even realizing it. I can save Cal, the brokenhearted cynic.

“All right, Callum Whitaker.” I hold out my hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”