I took it in, and it was an ice pick to my gut. I did this. I was afraid, and I destroyed something perfectly beautiful.
The fact that Callum had the capacity to love me after the way I fucked up so royally was a testament to who he was. He called his love psycho, and maybe it was, but it was also forgiving and generous.
I didn’t know what to feel about his manipulations. I knew I wasn’t okay with it.
I also wasn’t the same person I’d been back then. Depression and anxiety had been like living, breathing monsters on my back, and for the most part, I’d learned to cope. I had my son, finished school, grew the hell up. The time I was taking from Callum to sort myself out wasn’t running away, even if that had been my first instinct. My thoughts and emotions had been far too jumbled to make a decision.
But it was clear now what I wanted—what I’d always wanted.
Me:Will you be in the car with me in the morning?
Callum:I wish I could say yes. I have to do some radio interviews beginning at the crack of dawn. I’ll be there on your way home.
Me:Okay. I’d like to talk.
Callum:I’ll come over.
Me:No, baby. I’m about to fall asleep. I want to be clearheaded. You want to have dinner with us then we’ll talk when Ez goes to bed?
Callum:So fucking bad.
Me:Then that’s what we’ll do.
Callum:Need to hold my girl.
Me:Let’s do the talking thing first.
Callum:Gonna hold you in the car. Second I see you.
Me:All right, baby.
Callum:Go to sleep, Little Bird.
Me:I am. Good night. Xoxo
Callum:Love you. Sleep well. x