Page 51 of Falling Back to You

“I’m very secure in my masculinity,” Cal defended. “And I know you watched Pride and Prejudice, my guy.”

“Because I love my wife.”

“And you’re a regular Darcy.”

“Actually, I’m more of a Mr. Knightley meets Mr. Tilney.”

Cal stared, gaping. “Who are you and what have you done with my twin? Do you even know who those guys are?”

“Of course I do. Have you met my wife?”

Cal shook his head. “Dude, I have literally never felt closer to you.”

Greyson grunted. “Don’t make it weird.”

“And what kind of romance club is this?” I asked, amused by their banter. “Not bodice rippers, I hope.”

Cal scoffed. “Of course not. We do the closed-door stuff. Mrs. Gulliver founded it. Can you imagine? And she still complains about the kissing. So I bring it up at every meeting.”

“You’re a rascal.”

“And you love it.” His dimple winked, and I smiled back. Oh the mileage he got out of that muscle anomaly.

And that’s when I remembered we had a captive audience.

“Who wants more pie?” Melissa asked, and I nearly collapsed in relief. There was a flurry of commotion, and the conversation pivoted.

I simply stared at Cal, who was still watching me with a soft smile. He liked romance movies and rom-coms? Since when? He’d always preferred action films or Andy Griffith.

Then the memory hit me. When we were eighteen, I’d been sick on Valentine’s Day, ruining our date plans, so Cal came over to keep me company, even though I was worried about him catching my germs. We’d watched a bunch of ’90s rom-coms. Because he knew I loved them.

How many threads of our lives were still intertwined because of what we meant to each other? His fingerprints were still in my life, in the music on my playlist and my favourite hoodie. Maybe it was the same for him, too.

Chapter seventeen

Noelle

13 Years Ago . . . April

“I can’t believe this is our last night before the Fabulous Four breaks up.” Cal sighed. “We’ve had a good run.” He leaned back in his camp chair, tugging me closer against his chest.

Did I have my own chair? Yes.

Was I sitting on Cal’s lap instead? Also yes.

What could I say? My fiancé was a romantic, and he liked playing with my hair. No complaints here.

“You make it sound like we’re breaking up,” Greyson grunted.

“Not breaking up,” I said slowly. “But it’s the end of an era for us.”

Greyson huffed. “We’re not going to be mushy about it and make pinky promises about always being friends.”

Myles slapped his shoulder. “No one would dare make you get mushy.”

Greyson only rolled his eyes. He was the gruff one of our quartet, but this was over the top, even for him.

“A fire would have been nice,” Myles continued, eyeing the propane gas stove.