Page 43

Forty

Callum’s mother sits at the kitchen table, chopping lettuce, peppers, and carrots.

The kitchen is busy with three other members of Cal’s family, but I know this woman to be his mom by the sprigs of gray in her honey-brown hair, and by the way he passes everyone else by to reach her.

He leans down, wraps an arm around her shoulders, and embraces the woman.

From her seat, she reaches for his face and kisses his forehead, patting his cheek. “Where are your manners?” she says. “Introduce your family.”

“Sorry. Of course.” He stands straight, looking over at me. “Everyone, this is my friend, Fran Fairchild. Fran, this is my dad, Brady.” Callum points to the man slicing meat on a cutting board at the counter.

The woman, stirring the bubbly pot of water on the stove, faces us, pausing her work.

“This is my older sister, Kailey,” he says, pointing to the pretty girl, her long brown hair pulled back at her neck .

Kailey smiles. “Nice to meet you, Fran,” she says.

“This is my younger brother, Asher,” Callum continues. Asher stands next to his father, two inches taller than the older man. He leans against the counter, arms folded, facing us. He sends one short wave my way.

“Hi,” I say.

“And this is my mother, Kristina.”

I move through the busyness of the kitchen to the dining table where Callum stands next to his mother. That’s when I see the chair she sits in—handles, armrests, and wheels.

I hold out a hand to the woman, and she presses her palm to mine. “Fran—or as Zev likes to call her, Franny.”

“Again, when are you talking to Zev?” Callum asks, a whine in his tone.

“We chat. That’s all you need to know.”

“Well, she prefers Fran. Just Fran.”

I’m not sure what possesses me—because he’s mostly right, and I don’t hate the man coming to my defense. “It’s okay,” I say, looping my hand through the crook of Callum’s elbow. “You can call me Franny if you want.”

She gives Callum one blaring I-told-you-so stare before turning back to me.

“I’ve never really liked my name in any form,” I say with a laugh.

Callum’s brows knit. “You have a beautiful name. Don’t say that.”

My pulse quickens with his sincerity. Could he actually mean that? I swallow, my mind reeling and my brain asking questions without speaking any actual words.

Callum likes my name.

“What do you do, Fran?” Kristina asks .

A shaky exhale leaves my lips, and I find my voice. “I’m a student. And a waitress for the time being.”

“What are you studying?”

“I’m taking general classes right now. It’s my second year. I don’t have a declared major yet.” I know I’m behind, but I’m just so grateful to be in college at all that I can’t worry about that. Besides, Kristina doesn’t look concerned, just curious. “I’m still figuring that out.”

“Callum, you set the table,” Callum’s mother says. “Fran and I are going to visit.”

“Sure.” Callum eyes me like he’s worried for me. But I like Kristina. I don’t mind visiting.

“Do you cook?” she asks me.

“Yes, I can help—” I go to stand, but Kristina lays a hand over top of mine.

“Just getting to know you. I’m asking about your hobbies.”

My body is a nerve fest. I’m sweaty, semi on edge. And yet, I like where I am. I have no desire to leave either. “I don’t dislike cooking. But I wouldn’t say it’s a hobby. I like movies.”

“I could use a little help over here,” Callum says. “Do you mind, Mom? Fran, could you?—”

“You can handle a table setting, Cal. Let the girl sit and talk.” Kristina nods at me to continue. “You like movies. Callum may have mentioned that.”

“Yes, I love them. At least the happy ones. I’m not into horror films or thrillers. I like a happy ending.”

Kristina smiles. “I’m the same. There’s enough sadness in real life. Which is your favorite?”

“That’s a good question.”

Callum lays a plate in front of me, then one just above the salad chopping station his mother has all but abandoned .

“I have a lot of favorites. And for different reasons. It’s sort of like picking a favorite child.”

“Give it a try,” she says, folding her hands together on the table. “The kids all think Tiff is my favorite.”

“Because I am,” Tiffany says as her siblings groan around us.

“Because she is,” Asher and Kailey say in unison.

Kristina shakes her head. “I don’t have favorites.”

Callum sets a glass filled with water next to his mom. “You just keep saying that, Mom. We both know it’s me.” He holds one finger over his lips, his eyes finding mine as if letting me in on this secret of theirs.

Kristina gives him a little headshake. “Of course, son.” She waves him off. Her eyes are back on me, waiting for an answer. “Your favorite?”

I nibble on my lip, then my cheek, and then I say, “I love certain scenes more than entire movies. The scene where Darcy walks through the field to meet Lizzie Bennet. You’ve Got Mail , when she’s sick and he comes to visit.

The Proposal , when he comes back to the office for her and she’s afraid, but he calms her fears. ”

“I like that. Scenes over movies.” She nods before turning back to her cutting board. She lifts the flimsy board and slides the contents from it into the bowl at her right. “Cal, honey, put this in the sink for me, please.” She holds out the cutting board, passing it off to him.

My eyes follow Callum back as he works with his siblings and father.

“Food’s ready,” Brady says as he sets a warm pot of pasta with a red sauce and andouille sausage atop the table.

We all gather around. A big family gathering—and me.

I’ve been to a few of Rosalie’s family events.

But they were always bigger things—receptions, Christmas parties, family reunions.

I sat around the Hunters’ table when my mom was gone.

They only had one child, though. Carol Anne and I ate with her parents, but this feels different.

Big, but small. An intimate family gathering, and I’m here as Cal’s something —I’m not sure what.

“So,” Kailey says. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Reno. Born, raised, and still there.” I take a bite just as question number two fires.

“You’re still in college? How old are you?” Tiffany asks.

“Tiff,” Kailey whispers, shushing her sister.

“What? It’s not like she’s a grandma. I’m just curious.”

“I’m twenty-five,” I say with a smile. I don’t mind her questions. “I started college late.”

“And you’ve never left home?” Tiffany’s eyes are blue like Callum’s, but her hair is as blonde as Callum’s father’s.

“I mean, I moved out of the apartment where I grew up. But I’m still in Reno.”

“Whew,” Tiff says. “You’re kind of old to be living with your parents.”

I laugh, and Kailey elbows her sister once more.

“I left my mom’s place a week before my eighteenth birthday.

I graduated at seventeen and turned eighteen a couple of weeks later.

I didn’t have the money to leave town or start college then, though.

So, I went to work. I saved money until I could afford school. ”

“Good for you, Fran,” Brady says.

“Your parents didn’t help you?” Tiff says. “Mom says we have to earn scholarships and pay for our own schooling, but she’ll help with my dorm room.”

“Not everyone has the same situation, Tiff,” Kristina tells her.

But this time, Tiff blocks Kailey’s elbow.

“I guess. But you don’t know what to study. Even Asher knows what he’s studying.” Tiff shakes her head.

“Hey,” Asher moans, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“Tiffany,” Callum scolds, and I’m surprised when his hand, warm and gentle, finds mine beneath the table. He laces his fingers through mine and squeezes.

“Sweetheart,” Kristina says with kind inflection in her tone. “Everyone does things differently. And that’s okay.”

“I just really hope I know what I want to be and that I’m out of school by twenty-five.”

“Do you have any ideas?” I ask her. I’m not offended. I won’t reject Callum’s comforting hand, but I know I’m steps behind the average twenty-five-year-old. I’m just grateful to be where I am.

“Biology. I’m going to be a biologist and work in a lab. I’m going to make crazy discoveries and tons of money.”

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but there’s a very good chance you’ll still be in school at twenty-five, then,” Callum says.

She rolls her eyes at him, but it’s clear there is a mutual affection there. “What do you know? You never even went to college.”

“You didn’t?” I ask, looking at Cal. How have we never talked about this before?

He shakes his head. “I went straight from academies to the MLS. And after my injury, I became a Red Tail.”

“You could always go to college. It’s not too late,” I say, as if this is a private conversation and his entire family isn’t listening in.

“I could. But I like the minors. Baxter pays well enough, and I’m still playing. Yes, the major league was something. But I’m happy here too.”

“You’re the best player on the Red Tails,” Brady says. “And if you wanted to go back to the majors?—”

“I know, Dad.” Callum’s cheeks pinken.

I peer over at him, wondering what else I don’t know. “You don’t want to go back?”

He swallows, and while I’m the stranger at this table, I can see the pressure he feels with this question and under these eyes. “I don’t, actually. I like the minor league. There’s less pressure, and the truth is, I don’t play the same since I got hurt.”

“Son, you’re better than you—” Brady starts.

But Kristina interrupts. “He knows, honey.” She switches her attention back to me. “So, Fran, Callum said you have a theory?—”

“Mom,” Cal barks. “That was private. I?—”

“I don’t mind,” I say. I believe in love. I believe in creating memorable moments. I believe in the formula. And I don’t mind sharing that with others.

“Oh, boy,” Callum mutters beneath his breath.

“A theory?” Kailey says. “What kind of theory?”

“Well,” I say. Have I ever told my theory to this many people at once?

They may not understand my reasoning behind the remake.

Love between father and mother has been a normal condition in their home.

Their family was born with a closeness and affection that many aren’t.

They may not understand. Many don’t. And that’s okay.

“I believe that fictional love stories are the key to happiness.”

Asher laughs, and Kailey elbows her brother this time.

“How’s that?” Kristina asks.

“I think it matters where you begin, and I think experiences lead and guide us. My parents didn’t love each other. They fought all the time. They also never went on a trip or had a picnic or took any kind of risk.”

“No risk, no reward,” Brady says.

“Exactly.”

“How is a romance movie a risk?” Asher says.

“They take risks all the time in love stories. They’re always putting themselves out there, being vulnerable, experiencing new things. Regardless of the chance for embarrassment or humiliation. Because love is worth the risk.”

“Love is worth the risk,” Tiffany says—for once, she isn’t baffled by my lack of experience. Her eyes are bright. I have her. She’s a believer.

“I’d rather take a risk—do something silly, something that might create a connection—than never try. Love is worth it.”

“I would agree with that,” Kristina says. She smiles at me, then at her husband. She knows. Because she’s a woman who took the risk, and it paid off.

“So, this theory…” Kailey says.

“I take scenes from movies and remake them when I go on dates.”

Cal coughs beside me.

“You’ve experienced a few of these?” Kristina says, looking at her son.

He swallows, his eyes darting from me to his mom. “I have.”

“Oh, please tell,” Kailey says, rubbing her hands together.

Asher laughs, shaking his head and stabbing more pasta onto his fork. “Callum in a romance movie. That’s freaking hilarious.”

“I’m not in a movie—” Cal says .

“Just remaking scenes.” I set my fork down. I have everyone’s attention. “They make memorable moments, which I believe can bring people together.”

“Cal?” Kristina says. “What would you say?”

He clears his throat, dipping his head in a nod. “I have made some of the most memorable moments since meeting Fran.”