Too Good to Be True - Kristan Higgins [127]
“I’m sure it is,” he said, not unkindly.
“But what I’m trying to say is that I am over Andrew, Callahan. I know I should’ve told you the truth about Wyatt, but—” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat and forced myself to continue. “I didn’t want you to see me as someone who got traded in.”
He sighed. Looked at the ground and shook his head a little. “I was thinking about that time I walked you home from Blackie’s,” he said. “You were on a date, weren’t you?” I nodded. “I bet you were pretty…desperate.”
“Yup,” I admitted in a whisper.
“So I was just about your last shot, wasn’t I, Grace? Your sister’s wedding was coming fast, and you hadn’t found anyone. The ex-con next door was the best you could do.”
I flinched. “No, Cal. That’s not how it was.”
“Maybe,” he said. He didn’t say anything more for a minute, and when he did, his voice was gentle. “Look, if you are over Andrew, I’m glad for you, Grace. But I’m sorry.”
Well, dang it. I was going to cry. Tears burned my eyes, and my throat hurt like I was being strangled. He noticed. “To be really blunt here,” he said very quietly, “I don’t want to be with someone who lies to make herself look better. Someone who can’t tell the truth.”
“I did tell the truth! I told you everything,” I squeaked.
“What about your family, Grace? You planning on coming clean with your folks? With Andrew and your sister?”
I cringed at the thought. Like Scarlett O’Hara, I’d been planning on thinking about that tomorrow. Or the next day. Possibly never. It’s fair to say that I was hoping the Wyatt Dunn fantasy would just fade into the past.
Callahan glanced at his watch. “I have to go.”
“Cal,” I said, my voice breaking, “I really would like you to forgive me and give me another chance.”
He looked at me a long moment. “Take care of yourself, Grace. I hope you work things out.”
“Okay,” I whispered, looking down so he wouldn’t see my face crumple. “You take care, too.”
Then he got in his truck and drove away.
BACK IN THE HOUSE, I sat at my kitchen table, tears dripping off my chin, where Angus cheerfully licked them off. Great. Just great. I blew it. How I ever thought my Wyatt-Dunn idea was a good one was completely beyond me. I should never have…If only I’d…Next time I’d just…
Next time. Right. It occurred to me in a dizzyingly painful flash that guys like Callahan O’Shea didn’t grow on trees. That God had thrown a man down right next door, and I’d spent weeks in judgment. That just like my best friend Scarlett O’Hara, I hadn’t seen what was right in front of my face. That any guy who’d drive an hour and a half so I could see Gone With the Wind was worth ten—a hundred—of the type of guy who’d string me along until twenty days before our wedding. It’s about time, Callahan had said the first time I’d kissed him. He’d been waiting for me.
The thought caused a hard sob to ratchet out of me. Angus whined, nuzzling his little face against my neck. “I’m okay,” I told him unconvincingly. “I’ll be fine.”
I blew my nose, wiped my eyes and stared at my kitchen. It was so pretty here. Actually, now that I looked at it, it was rather…well, perfect. Everything had been chosen with an eye toward getting over Andrew—colors that would soothe my heartache, furniture that Andrew would never like. The whole house was a shrine to Getting Over Andrew.
And yet it wasn’t Andrew I kept seeing here. Nope. I saw Callahan sitting in my kitchen, teasing me about my pajamas…Callahan holding my mother’s sculptures in his big hands…Cal shaking Angus off his foot, or sinking onto his knees because I hit him with the field hockey stick or cooking me an omelet and telling me everything about his past.
Before long, someone was going to buy the house next door. A family, maybe, or an older couple, or a single woman. Or even a single man.
I knew one thing. I didn’t want to see it. Almost without realizing it, I fished out the business card in my pocket and grabbed the phone. When Becky Mango answered, I simply said, “Hi, this is Grace Emerson and we just met. I’d like