Page 71 of Keepsakes and Kismet

I snort. “Are you talking about DT?”

Romy blinks. “Who?”

“Never mind.” I reach for one of the fake, tabletop evergreen trees. “So, you saw Callum standing by this other man near a tree. And you want to know…”

Romy shakes her head and slides the small table in front of the window. “They were sitting in front of the tree. And—DT, was it?”

I nod, wondering why I even tried with his name—Romy knows nothing about football.

“Well, DT had his arm around Cal. And Cal was, like, shaking. Super pale. It looked like he was maybe crying or having trouble breathing or something. I don’t know. Shit looked intense.”

Huh? I set the small tree on the table, and then brush off my hands on my pants. “What do you mean by shaking?”

Romy looks sheepish. “Sorry, I wasn’t spying or anything. I was just standing nearby when it happened. Either way, when DT steered him behind a tree, Cal looked off.”

Crying… shaking… trouble breathing… Did Callum have a panic attack?

A sting of sharp distress pricks my skin, along with an immediate need to comfort him. Empathy rushes to my heart, followed by a very alarming thought.

If he did have a panic attack, that means… He didn’t tell me.

That realization lands deeper than I expect, crashing into my chest all at once. I can almost hear the blood rushing to my head. Learning this information second-hand feels like a small betrayal.

I need to talk to him. Now.

Setting the box of faux snow-frosted branches in front of Romy, I try to gather my bearings enough to sound normal. “Can you add these to the tall vases? I’ll be right back to finish the window display.”

“Um… sure.”

Based on the wary look on her face, I don’t think I successfully portrayed someone who’s fine. But there’s no time to explain, so I shrug on my jacket and tie the belt around my waist, all but flinging open the front door.

I march in the direction of the food truck down the street in a huff. How could he not tell me?

Almost immediately, another thought crosses my mind. He may have a good reason.

My feet stop moving. It’s true. I don’t know the reason behind why he chose to keep it from me. I don’t even know if it was a panic attack. I need to relax. Slowly turning around, I take a deep breath and walk toward my office.

But I told him about my stuff. The frustrating retort rattles around in my brain, and I spin back around. I laid myself bare to him, and he’s going to keep secrets from me in return? I walk with purpose to the food truck again.

Just because you told him doesn’t mean he has to tell you. The softer side of me takes hold, gently reminding me that people move at their own pace. What am I doing, trying to confront him like some sort of Feelings Marshal? I shake my head, turning around and walking back to Good Taste.

But… He told my friend’s brother before me. And that hurts. While Callum doesn’t owe me anything, the thought of Callum trusting Daniel more than me cuts deep. Even if it wasn’t a panic attack, it was still something. Something he didn’t tell me.

I pivot on my heel, spying the food truck in the distance. It’s good to talk it out. I need to talk it out. If I don’t, I think I’ll burst.

But when I reach the red light of the crosswalk, a sobering thought echoes in my mind. He might not have had a choice.

God. Of course, he didn’t have a choice. He was with a stranger when it happened. Am I being selfish by making this about me? Plus, I don’t even know if Callum has triggers. All he’s told me is that he takes meds for mental health “stuff.” That he was going through a tough time when Sarah broke up with him. That could mean anything.

The light turns green, but I stay still, considering my options. The cold wind whips my cheeks, reminding me that I’m very much outside.

Even if I’m being a little selfish, I’m not going to treat him like glass. I wouldn’t want anyone to tiptoe around me. At the end of the day, whether my feelings are self-centered or justified, they’re my feelings, and he deserves to know them.

But… he’s not perfect.

Well, neither am I.

The crosswalk timer expires and turns red again. I take it as a sign and drag myself back to the office. On my way, I catch Bill from Everything But the Water-Ton: Baths and More staring at me from his front window, probably wondering why I keep turning around.