Page 52 of Keepsakes and Kismet

Even so, I don’t think I’d mind finding out what it’s like to hug Callum Galvin.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks, pausing near the bench outside the cafe.

My stomach flips. It’d be so easy to erase the distance between us. And while I count the inches that separate me from Callum, I wonder how honest I should be. I wonder if it would be as meaningful for him as it would be for me. I wonder if it would change things between us, or if nothing would change at all. Then I wonder…

What if he wants to hug me, too?

The thought tugs me ever-so-slightly forward, and I slowly release a drawn-out breath. “I’m thinking about how a hug from you might feel.”

Callum stills in slow-motion, his body swaying to a soft stop. I wait for that little line to appear between his brows, the one that tells me exactly how he feels, but his expression remains neutral, calm, interested.

“What’re you thinking about?” I ask nervously.

“I’m thinking about how I’ve wanted to hug you from the moment you walked through the cafe door.”

My lips part, and I tug on my scarf nervously. “How would we⁠—”

“I’d take two steps closer to you. Then, you’d close the gap. I’d lean in and wrap my arms around you. My hands would touch your back, and maybe yours would touch mine. I’d hug you for however long you wanted. You’d break the hug when you’re ready. Then I’d step back, and think about holding you for the rest of the day. Until I could see you next, and do it all over again.”

I let out a quiet exhale at his candor. Then I whisper one word: “Yes.”

And Callum does exactly what he said he’d do, carefully following each step until his strong arms envelop my waist.

But there’s also things happening that we didn’t talk about in advance.

We didn’t talk about how his proximity might make my heart beat faster. We didn’t talk about how my stomach would get this fizzy feeling, or how my throat would go tight. We didn’t talk about⁠—

“Cal?”

The voice snaps me out of my Callum-induced daze, and I break the hug. Callum steps back, and we both turn to find a short, portly, middle-aged woman standing next to us.

Callum gives a barely-noticeable sigh. “Hi, Sherry.”

A cheshire-cat grin spreads across this woman’s face at the sight of me. “Hi, there. And who is this?”

“I’m Peyton! It’s nice to meet you, Sherry.” I wait for someone to fill me in on who Sherry is.

“Sherry’s my mom’s friend from work,” Callum says flatly.

He couldn’t make his exasperation with this woman any more obvious to me, but his frustration seems to blow right past Sherry, who doesn’t move a muscle.

“Thrilled to meet you, Peyton. What are you two doing?”

“We just got hot chocolate.” Callum tells her with a disinterested tone that almost makes me laugh.

“That’s so fun!” Sherry replies.

Callum blinks. “Yep. It’s quite the blast. Well, Sherry, we both have a busy workday ahead of us, so we’re going to head out. Great to see you.”

A fabulous execution of The New York Minute Goodbye, if I do say so myself.

Callum walks down the sidewalk at an aggressive pace, maybe the fastest he’s ever walked, clearly trying to flee this woman’s clutches.

I jog behind him, and when we’re a good twenty feet from the cafe’s front door, out of sight from Sherry, he pauses and faces me. I lift an eyebrow, out of breath, smirking at his urgency to escape her.

Callum’s eyes search mine. “How’re we feeling, Pey?”

He gently echoes his question from when he held my hand for the first time.