One in a Million
“Grandma—”
“You’re afraid,” Lucille said flatly and with frank disappointment. “Call a spade a spade, honey, and at least own up to it. You’re afraid to open your heart and let anyone in. And let me tell you what, that man isn’t just anyone, he’s a man I hand-picked for you, and I’m never wrong. Now I’m serious about retiring from this matchmaking gig and you’re going to single-handedly mess up my one-hundred-percent accuracy.”
Callie thunked her head to the table a few times. When she lifted her head, she was facing Mr. Wykowski. He smiled kindly. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear me say your grandma is right, so I’ll spare you that.”
“Thank you,” she said dryly.
“And I’m sure you also think that as a man, an old one at that, I don’t know shit about love.”
“Can we take that word off the table?” Callie asked. “Please?”
“But it seems to me,” Mr. Wykowski went on, unperturbed, “as if you’re judging Tanner by the people in your past.”
“I’m not—”
He held up a finger. “Your parents retired early and then later moved away from here, rarely coming back. You took that as a rejection, and rightfully so.”
“I’ll say,” Lucille grumbled in front of the stovetop. “I taught my son better than that.”
Mr. Wykowski never took his gaze off Callie. “And then Asshole Eric didn’t help things.”
Callie choked out a laugh.
“I call ’em like I see ’em,” Mr. Wykowski said. “He might have rejected you, but you dodged a bullet there to my way of thinking.”
“No shit,” Lucille muttered beneath her breath. When she realized that both Callie and Mr. Wykowski were looking at her, she mimed zipping her lips and tossing away the key.
“He didn’t deserve you,” Mr. Wykowski said to Callie. “But this thing you’ve got going, being braced for rejection, all you’re doing is putting out that negative energy into the universe, and now it’s all coming back at you.”
“So what do I do?” Callie asked.
“Own your past,” he suggested. “Learn from it. Know you deserve better, that the right man will come along and, when he does, you’ll give one hundred percent of you.”
Callie stared at him. “You sound like a therapist.”
He smiled. “I watch Dr. Phil while I’m on the treadmill.”
“Isn’t he the sweetest thing?” Lucille asked.
Mr. Wykowski smiled. “Love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too,” Lucille gushed.
Mr. Wykowski looked at Callie. “You see? It’s really not that hard to put yourself out there.”
“That’s hardly fair,” Callie said. “You knew she would say it back.”
“Not true,” Lucille said. “The first time he told me he loved me, I didn’t say it back. I didn’t, because he’d told me when he was—” She paused and bit her lower lip and blushed.
Mr. Wykowski laughed softly.
Callie covered her eyes. “Subject change, please.”
“You love Tanner,” Lucille said firmly. “I see it every time you look at him. I hear it in your voice when you speak to him. I can feel it between you when you’re both in the same room. The air sizzles.”
“There’s a difference between attraction and love,” Callie said. “A big one.”
Lucille barked out a laugh. “Well, of course there is. But attraction”—she used air quotes around the word—“doesn’t get devastated by being stood up. Attraction doesn’t make you yearn for a person so badly you hurt when you think it’s over.”
Callie thunked her head on the table again. “I know,” she said miserably. “God, I know. And I do love him. I love the way he’s working hard to be the best dad he can be in spite of the fact that he doesn’t even know what a good dad looks like. I love how he takes care of his mom and not just monetarily. I love how he’d do anything for Sam and Cole. And I love how he looks at me, how he touches me, how he makes me laugh, makes me think, makes me feel…” She shook her head. “Everything.” Head still down on the table, eyes closed, she sighed. “I love him like I’ve never loved anyone before. And I don’t think I can handle it. You were right, Grandma. I’m afraid. I’m so afraid that I’m thinking of going back to San Francisco in order to escape facing it. And I’m not proud of that.”
There was a single knock at the back door.
Callie jerked and lifted her head, her worst fears realized when she saw the tall, broad shadow standing there.
Chapter 29
Callie jumped up and whirled to face her grandma. “Tell him I’m not here,” she whispered. “Tell him I’m already gone. Tell him—”
“That you’re a big, fancy liar?” Tanner asked.
She whirled back. The window in the back door was open. He’d bent low and was looking right at her.
He was in a backward baseball cap and sweatshirt, hood up against the wind.
She could see nothing of his expression, but that might also have been because she was holding her breath and her own vision was wavering from a severe lack of air.
He gave a small head shake and she didn’t know if that quirk of his mouth was amusement—in which case she’d have to kill him—or annoyance—in which case he could just get in line.