Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Callum finished his coffee and closed his laptop, rubbing his tired eyes as he leaned back from his seat. The rest of the day had gone smoothly enough—excusing himself from the Camden wedding hoopla factored largely in that.

For now, though, he had to quit working for the day and make his way back to the hotel before jet lag got the better of him. And it would probably be good for him to show his face occasionally, given he was here for a wedding. Callum wasn't sure he was ready to jump back into the chaos, but it was part of a groomsman's duty, wasn't it? He sighed, giving a wistful glance at his empty cup.

He'd nearly forgotten how much he loved Costa Rican coffee.

And the food.

Now and then, people would bring up Latin American cuisine and extol it for its spiciness. When Dad moved him with his stepmother, Diana, to Connecticut after Callum's parents had divorced, anyone who found out he was part Costa Rican would ask him if he liked tacos and burritos. As a child, it made him mad. Costa Rican food was fresh and lacking in hot spices, as opposed to Mexican.

But the less he'd cared about being from here, the less it bothered him.

He wound the laptop cord, glancing from his seat toward the main street in front of Samara Beach. The town had grown since he'd last been here, even though it still wasn't as developed as many of the northern towns on the Pacific coast. No resorts and five-star hotels here. Samara still retained its family-friendly beach-town vibe, which his mother had adored.

Mum had wanted to move someplace like this, where cafés and bars opened right onto the sands of the beach. Where you could walk at night and feel safe but still enjoy some nightlife. Where monkeys and tropical birds could still be spotted in the treetops.

The familiar waft of petrol from a passing shuttle made him wrinkle his nose, and he left the café and started back toward La Hacienda on foot. The sun hadn't set yet, and it occurred to him it'd been a while since he'd watched the sun rise or set, unlike in the days of his youth when he'd lived for those moments and spent as much time surfing or playing football on the beach as possible.

Fútbol. The same football that had started his downward spiral.

After several minutes of walking, he heard a voice behind him. "Callum." When he checked over his shoulder, Sophia was there, holding a large, reusable striped grocery bag in her hands. "I thought that was you," she said with a smile.

A mix of dread and— what is it . . . nostalgia? —filled his heart. "You on your way back to La Hacienda ?"

She nodded. "Just picking up some fruit for tomorrow morning's breakfasts."

The bag looked heavy, and Callum held a hand toward her. "Why don't I help you carry that?"

She glanced down at his jeans. "Are you sure? It won't bother your leg?"

His shoulders tensed, and he took the bag from her. Large, ripe papayas, mangoes, and even a guanabana were inside. "It's been years since that was an issue."

"It's been years since we last talked, too." She fell into step beside him. "Or you would even look at me."

Touché. Then again, I invited this by offering to carry your bag.

As time had gone on after their split, he'd thought about what he might say to her. He'd start with why she had held on to being a business partner with his mother. But he knew the answer to that. In some ways, Mum was the only family Sophia had. They'd formed their own unit. A daughter orphaned by both her parents. A mother whose grown children had flown the nest and never come back.

"Your girlfriend seems nice," Sophia said, breaking the silence.

He glanced over at her profile, wondering if it had hurt her to see him with Lydia. Do I even care? "Uh . . . yeah. She's great." His fingers dug into the sides of the bag. He'd expected to feel some relief in her believing that he was "attached"—even if it was fake—but he felt nothing.

"And you? Are you seeing anyone?" There, get this out of the way.

"No, not right now." Her brows furrowed. " La Hacienda keeps me busy. Too busy for much of anything."

" La Hacienda or my mother? Let me guess, she gets to lead all the yoga on the beach and sit in the office while watching novellas . Mum always loved her soaps. And you get to do everything else?"

She laughed. "Don't be mean. She's a good bookkeeper, too."

He chuckled, and then silence settled between them. Strange how someone he'd known his whole life, who he'd loved and known better than anyone, was also a stranger to him now. They could talk, of course, but the past wouldn't go away. Sophia had been the first girl he'd kissed. The first...everything.

And all of it—an entire lifetime of memories— overshadowed and obliterated by one: the sight of her in Luca's arms.

Sophia tossed her silky dark hair over her shoulder, seeming to sense the shift in his thoughts. "It's good to have you back here, Callum. I was surprised Quinn booked our place." She frowned as though considering her words. "It gave me hope. That maybe if he's forgiven me, that you might forgive?—"

"Quinn hasn't forgiven you because he doesn't know what happened between us. I never told him. I didn't tell anyone except for Isla and my mother." Callum hardened his expression. He didn't want to discuss this, now or ever. He should have known better than to walk with her.

Sophia chewed on her lip. The sea breeze tugged her long skirt. "Thank you for that."

"It wasn't to preserve your dignity. It was for my own," Callum said flatly. Thank God he could see the rooftops to La Hacienda from here.

"Cal . . ." Sophia's voice was soft. She stopped, turning toward him with a pleading expression. "I know we've both moved on, but I hate it so much that you still hate me. Is it ever possible you'll stop?"

Cal's eyes narrowed at her. Fuck. She'll never understand what she did to me. He shrugged. "About as possible as you un-fucking my ex-best friend."

Her face fell. "Right." She grabbed the bag, then continued forward without him.

Callum watched her for a moment, his jaw locked with tension. His headache from the morning was returning. Working had let him forget about it, like it always did. Work. Workouts. Sleep. Fucking. A splash of scotch. The five things that kept him sane.

He checked his watch. Maybe there was still time to squeeze in a run before his body gave out on him for the day. La Hacienda wouldn't have a weight room.

He waited until Sophia was out of sight, then made his way back to the hotel. The evening shadows were lengthening as the sun dipped lower over the water. The canopy of trees and foliage were sparkling gold, the water of the swimming pool a deep blue.

Swimming was also an option for working out, but it seemed like a hassle. He'd have to get into the ocean for a decent swim—a hundred laps in the small pool wasn't great. Plus, a few people crowded the pool area, including an old lady giving him a hawk-eyed stare.

As he got closer to the bungalow, he spotted Lydia out front, staring up at the trees while holding an expensive-looking camera. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she scanned the treetops. He tiptoed up next to her. "What are we looking at?"

She startled then, and for a split second, a genuine smile lit her eyes. "There are monkeys," she whispered. She nodded toward her mobile phone, which was set up on a stone wall that separated the foliage from the path near the bungalow. "I'm recording them."

Her smile lit her entire face as one drew closer, hanging from a tree branch. "Do you know what it is?"

The dark face was almost as much of a giveaway as the noise they made.

"That one is a howler. There are white-faced capuchins around here, too, but you got lucky. The howlers rarely come down from the treetops as readily."

She snapped a picture of the monkey that had descended. It watched them with curiosity, dark eyes keenly aware of them. "It's amazing."

Moving with speed, the howler swung closer to them. Lydia snapped a few more pictures, and Callum couldn't help but be intrigued by how different she seemed here. Her hair was loose and over her shoulders—he still couldn't get used to it being dark—and she wore a long sundress that flattered the curves of her fantastic arse.

He blinked away from her figure, noticing, too late, just how close the howler had swung to her phone. "Wait, Lydia?—"

Callum darted forward, but it was too late.

The howler extended a hand, scooped up the glowing phone, then scrambled back up the tree as quickly as he'd descended.

"No!" Lydia set the camera down around her neck. "Oh my God. That little son of a bitch just stole my phone."

Callum almost chortled at her words, then grimaced, shading his eyes in the bright light as he scanned the treetops. He couldn't even see where the damned thing had gone, but from the shadows up above, he imagined the howler had gone to join his friends.

Lydia took a helpless step toward the foliage. "H-how do I get my phone back? Can I tempt it back with a banana or something?"

Callum laughed dryly. "I think it's gone for good. If you're lucky, it might drop it eventually and you can use the Find My Phone feature to locate it."

"Why are you laughing?" Lydia slugged his bicep with the back of her hand. "This isn't funny." She stomped, looking up at the trees. "Oh my God. What the fuck am I supposed to do without my phone? And my credit cards! My credit cards are in my case."

"Why the hell are your credit cards in your case?"

"It's a wallet-case combo thing. I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at the time." She grimaced at the trees. "Can we shoot them?"

Callum rubbed the back of his neck with a snicker. "I don't know, it might be antithetical to the whole eco-tourism thing going on here."

"Stop laughing at me," she said, stomping her feet again.

"It's a little funny."

Lydia face-palmed and looked at him, chagrined. "No, no, no, it's not. It's only funny to you because . . ." Then she shook her head and let out a helpless chuckle. "Because you're an asshole. Of course you're laughing." She strangely didn't sound angry. "Of all the damn things. A monkey stole my cell phone. This has been the theme of today."

"I've seen monkeys steal passports, rental car keys . . . really, the sky's the limit."

Her eyes widened. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't think it would come down here and take it. Normally, it's the capuchins you have to worry about. The howlers like to keep away."

"Buenas!" Mum greeted, and they both looked up to see her coming down the path. Callum nearly groaned. After the encounter with Sophia, the last thing he wanted was to deal with his mother right now.

"Buenas," Callum said, instead. The Spanish language had come back to him quickly enough despite years of not using it regularly. His family had lived in England until his parents divorced when he was nine. Then Mum had agreed with Dad to allow him to stay with his father during the school year, for the expensive all-boys boarding school in Connecticut. His summers and holidays were usually in Costa Rica, though occasionally he'd gone to England to be with his grandparents.

And that was why, maybe, England had been more of a comfort. His grandparents' house was the only place where he'd continued visiting regularly until he was eighteen and had gone to Oxford. Every other place had been somewhere to sleep but without roots.

Mum stopped a few feet away and smiled broadly at Lydia. "How are you liking the bungalow?"

"The bungalow is great," Lydia said, still squinting at the monkeys. "But a monkey just stole my cell phone."

Mum gasped. "Oh no! I'm so sorry to hear it." She came over and stood next to Lydia, hands on her hips. Mum had maintained her svelte figure over the years, though her short dark hair was significantly grayer than it had been. She joined Lydia in looking up at the shadowy figures above them. "Maybe it will drop it?"

"I'm not sure my phone will survive a drop like that."

"So sad." Mum grimaced. "But I'm sure Callum will share his phone with you." She hesitated then went on, "Anyway, I wanted to invite you to yoga in the morning, Liddy. I thought it would be a nice opportunity to spend time with you and get to know you better."

Shite. He should have expected this.

Deprived of the chance to spend time with Callum, Mum would go for the next best way to needle her way into his life—through his girlfriend.

"Ah . . ." Lydia shifted, taking a step back toward Callum. "Actually, I don't do yoga. I'm . . . not flexible." Lydia's voice was apologetic, but her face guarded.

"Oh, I could teach you," Mum said with a helpful smile. "I have helped many people find their flexibility."

"I-I . . ." Lydia looked from Mum to Callum, almost nervously. "I don't think you could."

"No, I insist," Mum said and reached over and clasped her hand. "I'd like for us to be friends. And I have been a yogi for thirty years. I can really help. And you have such wonderful posture. I'm certain it would take no time to loosen you up."

Poor Lydia. She didn't have a fighting chance against Mum's stubbornness.

"Mum . . ." Callum said in a warning tone. He needed to step in if Mum was going to insist.

"Callum, I really think it would be good for Lydia to spend some time with me."

A slow blush spread to Lydia's cheeks. "I have a fused spine," she said softly. "I've had scoliosis since I was five. Unfortunately, there's no way to loosen that."

Oh.

Callum blinked, trying to keep his surprise at bay.

She'd never said a word about it.

Mum's lips parted, and she gave Lydia an uncertain look as she released her hand. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. Disculpe. Look at me, just insisting like that. Callum, you should have told me." She gave him a stern look. Mum didn't like embarrassing herself.

"I-I didn't think . . ." Callum tried to collect his thoughts more coherently. "I didn't think it would come up."

Mum nodded. "Bueno, I'll think of something else. And...and if you change your mind, yoga is on the beach at sunrise. Have a fun night." She turned and hurried away.

Callum watched her, almost feeling sorry for his mother. But now wasn't the moment to go after her. Lydia's revelation was personal. And regardless of their history, he needed to address it. She clearly hadn't wanted to say anything—Mum had just insisted. And on the plane, when she'd likely been in pain from the condition, she'd chosen not to share.

He chose his words as carefully as he could as he glanced at Lydia. "You all right?"

"I guess." Lydia lifted her camera and started back inside the bungalow.

Then that would be a no.

Callum followed and closed the door behind him. "We don't have to talk about it. But please know I won't share anything about your private business with anyone. You should have told me though. I'm your boss. If I had known you had a physical condition, it might have made a difference in what I expected from?—"

"I would hope not." Lydia looked over her shoulder, her expression darkening. She turned and leaned against the door frame that led to the bathroom. "Because I spent a lifetime trying to get away from my ‘condition.' Of people hearing scoliosis and thinking less of my abilities." She stood to her full height. "Don't you dare treat me differently, Callum. You go on giving me any assignment you used to. My pain levels and what I can handle are my business."

He raised his chin, ashamed of his words. He'd been trying to be sensitive, but somehow, he'd just been a jerk again. "I'm sorry."

"Ugh." She rolled her eyes and came closer to him, sitting on the edge of the bed again. "This is why I don't tell people. People treat the word disability as though it's a negative and I don't choose that outlook for my condition. I can't bend at the waist and turn in certain directions. And yes, I have pain, but I'm used to it. After my spinal surgery, I got most of my mobility back. But ever since I was a kid, anytime anyone saw me in my back brace or noticed I moved differently, it was nothing but looking at me with a side-eye."

And she probably thinks it makes me think less of her. Hell, it was probably killing her to have told him anything like that.

She massaged her temples, not looking at him. Maybe it was her stressful day, but she seemed to be less in control of her emotions.

Yet—he completely got it. She wouldn't think he understood, but he did.

He let out a slow breath and sat beside her. "Want to go for a run? Blow off some steam?"

She cocked her head to the side. "I don't need a pep talk, Coach."

"I'm serious. When I'm having an awful day, working out is one of the few ways I keep my brain from exploding. And I was planning on going for a run anyway."

She studied his profile. "What are the other two ways?"

"Sex and scotch. But we already eliminated one of those options."

"When did I say I wouldn't drink scotch?"

He guffawed, then caught her smirk. He'd forgotten how quick-witted she could be.

But the implication that sex wouldn't be disagreeable . . . his gaze flickered over her pretty face. Watch it, Cal. He'd always found her attractive. Which was why he'd always kept his distance.

"So why are you going for a run? Things imploding at work without you?"

He set his hands back and leaned into his arms. "Well, since we're sharing now . . ." He took a deep breath. "I ran into Sophia on the way back from the café where I was working. Dredged up the past."

"I take it things didn't end well between you?"

"Things ended when she came to stay with me in London after we got engaged. One day I went out to an appointment, and it was unexpectedly canceled. I came back and found her in bed with Luca Harris—who was my best friend at the time."

Lydia's jaw dropped. "Luca—as in from Camden Enterprises?"

"The same."

Then Lydia's eyes widened. "Oh my God." She lay back on the bed and covered her mouth. "Oh my God, no wonder you hated him. And here we all just thought you were an asshole."

He tried not to laugh sardonically as the pieces all fell together for her. Then he shrugged. "I am an arsehole. I wouldn't dare to change your mind on that front."

"I'm so sorry."

He lay back beside her, then turned his face toward hers. They were close to each other, given the size of the bed, but oddly, it didn't feel strange. Maybe because of the day they'd had. "You had nothing to do with it. But if it makes you feel better, when Aiden hired you, he'd told me he was also transferring Luca to my department. The Camdens don't know about what happened with Sophia and Luca—and I didn't want to tell them."

Callum examined the ceiling. "But when Aiden had promoted me to head of the department, he'd also promised me full autonomy with whom I hired. I protested your hiring and stopped Luca's as a result." He drew a breath, then looked at her profile. "It was never personal, Liddy. What you overheard me say about you. But I'm sorry."

She held his gaze, blue eyes blinking with tears. "It wasn't personal to you , Callum. To me, it was about as personal as you can get."

Right. Because she's a professional colleague. Not a friend.

Apology not accepted, then.

He sat. "So how about that run? Then we can both come back, pop some melatonin, and go to bed like old people. You can run, can't you? Even the Bionic Woman could do that. If anything, I'd say a little titanium might put you at an advantage over me."

"Yes, I can run. I actually have to work out a lot. It keeps my back stable and keeps the pain away." She cut her eyes at him, then laughed. "All right, fine, you win. But don't get too comfortable there, Coach. You start hanging motivational posters around here, and I'll quit the team. And don't forget, you get to sleep on the floor tonight."

He smiled as she padded off toward the bathroom so they could both change. This day had been nothing short of unusual.

But oddly, their fragile alliance seemed to work.

Better not get too comfortable, Callum. This was Lydia Winnick he was talking about, after all. They had to go back to a normal professional relationship after this. He couldn't let her get too close.