Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

Rain in the morning meant the surf would be rough, but Callum still slipped out before sunrise and headed to the beach.

As he nabbed the surfboard that he'd set on the side of the bungalow, he wished he could grab a cup of coffee before going out there.

Or wake Liddy just to kiss her.

But he'd been afraid of what else he might say to her. He'd been drunk last night, and he definitely wasn't sure how to proceed with her.

He was in unchartered waters.

Callum tucked the surfboard under one arm, then carried it down to the beach. Predictably, the water was choppy, but the waves were good. If he hadn't gotten on that surfboard earlier in the week when Granny had insisted on those lessons, he might not have remembered how easily this could come back to him, though.

It turned out that climbing back on a surfboard was a bit like getting back on a bicycle.

He was in the cold water in minutes, paddling out beyond where the waves were breaking. Surfing and football. His childhood.

Coming back here felt like a strange time travel.

And it was more than just that. He hadn't lost an ounce of Spanish, even if he'd been out of practice with it. But he'd forgotten how much he loved the taste of tropical fruit and rice and beans. He'd forgotten the Tico people, with their kindness and easygoing charm—and their ability to set work to the side and enjoy life.

Simplicity. My God, I forgot that.

Friendship, too.

And worse—what it felt like to be in the arms of a woman who challenged him. Not only to do better but to be better.

The salt water stung his eyes as he tossed his board over a wave, then dove into it.

I once belonged to this ocean. To this land.

And now the only thing—the only person—I want to belong to . . . is Liddy.

He no longer felt as...alone. As if he had another person in his corner who cared for him even when he was an arse. He wasn't wrong when he said he didn't deserve her, but maybe, just maybe, he could work harder at that. At deserving her. Like a second chance.

He'd considered Liddy's words, too.

"But sometimes facing the things that have made us feel like outsiders is the only way to move forward. You should face your fears and talk to her."

It was time to move forward.

He had to let go of the anger that had consumed him.

As he burst through the surface, the breath he drew felt like freedom.

He rode a few waves, letting go of his troubles and clearing his mind. He lost track of time, and then, as the sky grew lighter, he headed toward the shore.

Finding his flip-flops off on the sand, he gathered them, sinking his toes into the cold, wet granules. Funny how things like this didn't change—he still loved the beach at this time of day, no matter the weather, just like his mother did.

Speaking of his mother, he had one more thing he needed to do this morning before heading into the wedding preparations.

He didn't bother to towel off yet, as it made no difference in the light rain, and he walked back up toward La Hacienda. Passing the bungalows and office, he took another path farther back, heading to the house his mum and Carmen had built here—the first structure they'd put on the land.

Mum's house was simple with three small bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. The peach paint on the walls was peeling badly, but still the same shade he remembered from all those years before.

Callum stashed his board and then shook the water from his hair. A light was on in the kitchen, and he went toward the fern-covered area his mother called a "patio," which had a door that led to the kitchen.

He tapped twice softly, hoping that it wouldn't be Sophia who was awake, then opened the door.

Mum sat at the kitchen table, wearing a robe. Her eyes widened. "Callum. What are you doing here?"

The guilt that passed over him was palpable. He'd told himself he was completely justified in staying away—and maybe he was—but Mum didn't exactly look as young right now. It could be the lack of makeup or the fact that her hair was in disarray. Or the worn, tired expression on her face. The light that had always twinkled in her eyes had faded.

He could picture her in this kitchen, singing and dancing. Carmen nearby, laughing at Mum while she chopped green beans for picadillo . Or the two of them sitting at the table, having their afternoon coffee together while gossiping over biscuits.

Maybe I just didn't want to see what I should have known.

"Are Isla and Sophia awake?"

Mum shook her head. "Isla is sleeping." She sipped her coffee. "Sophia moved to a new house a few months ago. She's not here."

That was surprising. He'd assumed Sophia still lived with his mum.

I assumed a lot, it seems.

He stopped a few feet away from her. "Isla told me about Carmen. Who she was to you. That she was why you left Dad."

Mum froze, a shadow crossing her face. "I didn't know you never knew."

"If I'd been less innocent when it happened, I might have figured it out. The adults' bedroom and the kids' bedrooms. It just made sense. You were friends." He shrugged as he pulled out the chair in front of his mother. "I had no reason to question the narrative."

"I wasn't trying to hide it from you when you were older, I just?—"

"You were. But that's not the point. The point is, I know now. And I also know why you didn't bat an eyelash when Sophia cheated on me. You viewed her as your daughter. And made excuses for her behavior." He should have grabbed a towel. His soaked bathing suit was making him shiver. Or maybe it was the nerves firing through his body. He'd known he needed to address this and approach his mum as an adult—but doing it was another matter altogether.

Tears filled Mum's eyes. "No. Callum. That's not true. I was mad at her—for a long time—for hurting you. But she also told me another side of the story. Of how cold you were to her. How angry you were all the time. How you treated her. And it reminded me of why?—"

"Why you cheated?" Callum raised a brow. "Yes, exactly, Mum. You saw yourself in Sophia. And you know, maybe I was insufferable, but I was also suffering. And rather than talk to me, she crushed the only piece of my heart left. Betrayal isn't a solution to being miserable. It only makes the misery worse for everyone involved."

Tears escaped her eyes. "Carmen begged me on her deathbed—she made me promise I would always take care of Sophia. I couldn't break that promise."

"I was your son, Mum. What about the promise you made to me when you decided to have a child in the first place?"

"You are my son, Callum. You can't stop being my son just because you decide. You will always be my son, and I will always keep hoping you forgive me."

"Then start by admitting what you did. What you continue to do by choosing Sophia every day."

Mum wiped her cheeks and sank back in her chair. "What was I supposed to do, Callum? She owns this just as much as I do. And just like now, when she's insisting we have to sell, I don't have a choice because I don't own La Hacienda outright."

That's . . . not how Sophia had put it.

He tried to rack through his brain for the precise words Sophia had used when telling him Mum was thinking of selling La Hacienda, but he couldn't remember outright. "Wait. She's insisting you sell?"

Mum nodded tearfully. "She doesn't want to keep running the business. She says it's too much work, and we're barely surviving—but I never cared about making a big profit. As long as I was paying my bills, I was happy. She says it's not worth it."

Wait.

Sergio had said he'd talked to an American who wanted to buy the land.

And yesterday when I found her talking to an American man in the office, she behaved nervously.

She planned on selling, with or without Mum's blessing? Hell, she might even be planning on letting someone else buy her out and deal with the messiness of co-ownership.

That bitch.

And maybe it was too strong of a feeling, but the fact was, his mum wasn't a young woman anymore. If Sophia insisted on selling, Mum would be out of a job, a business, and a home. Her home.

"But . . . you've always been loyal to her." The idea that Sophia could turn around and do something like this to his mother, even after Mum had picked her over her own son, after working together for years, after everything made him so furious that he could hardly see straight.

Mum gave Callum a helpless look. "I never should have made her feel like she was more important to me than you. And now I've earned my punishment, yes? For everything. For leaving your father, for not breaking my promise to Carmen." She bowed her head. Tears shook her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Callum. I'm so sorry. I love you, I always have. I was selfish, though. I chose what was easy, even if it did not make me happy. I didn't want to lose La Hacienda, and I thought you would come around. I knew it would make me miserable in the long run. I knew I would end up alone and empty."

Quiet sobs shook her shoulders.

She looks frail.

Broken.

So human.

She's so...lonely, especially having lost Carmen—now that I fully understand what she meant to her. Carmen had been dead for eleven years now. Mum had been alone ever since.

And Sophia was ready to toss her to the side—for money. Seemed that Sophia had deceived both him and his mum. Had she ever been someone they should have trusted? Even though he felt closer to Liddy and saw her as special, he wondered if he'd ever be able to fully let go of the doubt—that fear to trust—that still plagued him.

But I want to try.

Callum tugged at the wet hair on the top of his head.

Fuck.

He had no idea what to do.

"I chose what was easy. Even if it did not make me happy. . ."

Those words were haunting.

They might have been the most honest words his mother had ever spoken.

Maybe even the bravest.

He'd spent the past five years doing the same damn thing.

How many times have I chosen to do what I know will make me miserable because it's easier? Because changing what I've been doing means facing a different fear?

Liddy's face flashed through his mind.

He reached out and set a hand on his mother's shoulder.

How do we even go forward from this?

Can we?

He tried to think about what he'd wanted to hear all this time. What he'd needed to feel.

What had been missing in his life.

After Sophia had gone home from their breakup, he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't let himself love anyone else again.

He'd closed himself off.

. . . and where had it gotten him?

No one had gotten close. No one.

. . . until Liddy.

That is why she terrifies me so much. Why I wanted to push her away.

Callum released a slow breath and then said in a ragged voice, "I love you, Mum."

Mum sniffled, her eyes red rimmed. "I know it's too late?—"

"I don't know that." He pushed her hair back behind her ear, then tipped her chin up so that he could search her eyes. The skin of her cheek was softer than he remembered, the lines around her eyes deeper. "I'm not good at forgiveness. Or I haven't been. But it hasn't made my life any better either. I can tell you it's going to take work, Mum. We can't go back to that time when I held you on a pedestal as a child. When I thought you'd never hurt me. But if you're willing to put in the work"—he struggled to get the words out—"then so am I."

Mum let out a soft, breathy cry and nodded. Then she leaned over and flung her arms around his neck, sobbing against him.

Callum held her tight, his mind spinning.

He'd been born here. Lived here.

Turned his back on it all.

But so many times this week, he'd felt that tug of the familiar. The sense of knowing who he was by being here.

This was a piece of the puzzle of who he was. And without this piece, he couldn't be truly happy.

And it's Isla's home.

He pulled back from his mum and clasped her hands. "So let's talk a little more about what it's going to cost to save La Hacienda."

Callum left his mum's house and headed toward the bungalow he'd been sharing with Liddy.

He didn't quite know what he was going to tell her.

I just have to see her before the day gets too chaotic.

He was still wet and cold from the time he'd spent on the beach this morning, but he smiled to himself.

Maybe Liddy would have enough time to take a shower with him.

"Callum." Aiden strode down the path toward him, an umbrella on his shoulder. "Glad I found you."

Interesting how he doesn't appear glad.

Had something happened to Quinn?

Aiden's face was serious, a marked difference in demeanor from the previous night when they'd been drinking at a bar together. Their dynamic had always been unique, to say the least. Aiden had gone from being the younger, sometimes annoying, brother of one of his closest friends to his colleague, then his boss and good friend. Besides Quinn, Aiden was probably his best friend, if he thought about it.

"Everything all right?"

"Not exactly." Aiden gestured down the path. "Care to have a chat for a minute?"

"Sure." Callum followed him toward one bungalow. Aiden held the door open for Callum, and Callum passed through.

No one else was inside, and Callum assumed it was Aiden's room—the bed was neatly made, something Callum had always seen Quinn do whenever they'd gone places overnight together. "Please." Aiden gestured toward the chair.

Callum took a seat, his brow furrowing as Aiden sat across from him on the bed. He chuckled. "Somehow I feel as though I'm in trouble."

Aiden frowned. "Well, you might be."

What?

Aiden dipped his chin. "I'll just come out with it. I spent the morning on the phone with the head of human resources at Camden. Apparently, a complaint was filed against you by one of your employees—Miranda Kaster."

Oh fuck.

"What was the nature of the complaint?"

"Sexual harassment."

"Listen—" The details of that drunken stupidity in the alley near his flat the day before the flight seemed less clear. "The whole thing was after hours, in a bar, once I was already drunk. I didn't initiate anything. She followed me home, practically threw herself at me, then tried to bribe me when I turned her down. We kissed, but it hardly went beyond that."

Aiden stared at him, and his brows drew together. "Good to know. If that's true, it certainly helps with context." He cleared his throat, his neck growing red as he rubbed the back of it. "That wasn't the complaint, though, mate."

If that's true?

Why the fuck wouldn't Aiden believe him?

Callum stared at him in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

Aiden leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees. "She claimed that you've coerced Lydia Winnick to enter into some sort of sham sexual relationship. I think she used the word ‘blackmailed.' And, unfortunately, she had texts from Liddy from the day of your flight down here together."

Aiden leaned across his bed and grabbed his phone. He swiped it open, then turned the phone toward Callum, holding it out for him to take.

Callum almost didn't reach for the phone. He didn't want to read the texts.

Because whatever is written there is just a sign that Liddy can't be trusted.

He didn't want to know that.

Didn't want to believe that the woman he was falling for could be so duplicitous.

But it's happened before, hasn't it? A woman you loved has betrayed you.

He hesitated, then took the phone.

Liddy: I think our boss just sank to an all-time low.

Miranda : Oh . . . what now?

Liddy: Long story short . . . my sister's wedding dress was stolen. Callum knows where the guy who stole it is heading. He refuses to tell me where, though, unless I pretend to be his girlfriend. Apparently, his ex-fiancée is going to be at the hotel, and he doesn't want to show up alone.

Miranda: Stop. He did not.

Liddy: Don't worry, I told him to go to hell.

He'd known Liddy and Miranda were friends and flatmates.

And he'd known Miranda had told Liddy about that foolish kiss in London.

But he hadn't expected this.

Maybe he'd been naive, but he'd assumed Liddy hadn't told Miranda about their arrangement.

Callum could barely look Aiden in the eye, his head pounding. "This says nothing about a sexual relationship."

"That part was apparently relayed by a phone call. Miss Kaster claimed Liddy said you were pressuring her into sexual relations."

Was it possible?

Think, Cal. Miranda is a liar. You know that.

Callum handed the phone back to Aiden, a stabbing pain searing through him.

Aiden searched Callum's face. "Is any of it true, Cal?"

Callum tried to calm his racing thoughts.

If Miranda knew anything about his sexual relationship with Liddy, this could be nothing more than her attempt to get revenge. He'd turned her down and she'd been furious about it. He didn't trust Miranda at all.

Goddammit, Liddy.

Of all the people she could have talked to about this.

And this was precisely why he'd always been so careful about staying away from any woman he worked with.

"Liddy and I have a sexual relationship, yes." He hated to cause Liddy any embarrassment, but he wasn't talking to his friend Aiden right now. This was his boss, and his job was on the line. Anything less than the truth could have serious repercussions, especially now that HR was involved. "But I never pressured her or blackmailed her into sex. That . . . happened separately."

"And the sham relationship?" Aiden turned his phone off and set it on the bed.

"That's true." Callum rubbed his jaw. "Though—just so you know—the wedding dress was located. Security grabbed it because of the marijuana Logan left in the garment bag. And Elle and Quinn both know the truth."

Aiden didn't react. He folded his hands together, the silence between them tense.

"What would you have me do, Cal? I know you're on holiday and this isn't work-related, but HR knows about this. Miranda is clearly spreading this. We're facing an HR nightmare when we return. And Liddy will be dragged through it with you."

It was strange . . . I should be angrier with Liddy.

But I'm not.

Because he didn't believe Liddy had said what Miranda accused him of. I know her better than that.

He wasn't numb, either. Numb would have been bad, but the fact was that this wasn't Liddy's fault.

He had tried to blackmail her with the information about Sergio.

The fake relationship had been his idea.

And their first kiss in Mum's office was barely consensual from an HR perspective.

When they'd driven in from the airport, Liddy had no reason not to share things with her friend. Her choice of who she shared it with had been unlucky.

And then, laughter built in his chest, and he shook his head, covering his face.

It would come to this.

A meaningless, reckless kiss with Miranda Kaster was about to end his career.

And yet . . . he had to be honest.

This is on me.