(no subject)
Title: Ready For A Fall (11/?)
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairing: Addison/Mark, Callie/George, Callie/Alex (friendship), George/Izzie (implied)
Rating: NC17
Summary: Sometimes it hurts to fall, but if you're lucky someone may catch you. And they may be falling, too.
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Nine
Ten
*~*~*~*~*~
There have been times that I thought I couldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able to carry on
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will
-Sam Cooke
*~*~*~*~*~
Callie was dreaming about her Uncle Kakistos’s yacht. At forty two feet it was smooth and could launch itself across the water faster than a rocket. That’s why they had stolen it. Cam was mad that his uncle wouldn’t let him spend his allowance on a rocket kit and he had enlisted Callie’s help, who was mad on principle alone. Any time either twin was wronged, the wrong-doer felt the wraith of both children and that was all there was to it.
"Just do it already." Callie, who was ten again in her dream, looked at her brother. "I took the keys. You start the engine."
"What if we hit a whale?" Cam asked, his dark eyes wide. He pushed his black hair away from his face and gazed at her. "Or a shark. No, we’re goin' to get killed."
"Cammy, we’re already gettin' killed for ridin' our bikes across the interstate. At least this will be fun."
"I changed my mind. We need to go back home, Callie. What if we get caught?"
"Chicken."
"I am not a chicken!"
She flapped her arms and squawked at him.
Cambyses frowned and started the engine. He hit two of the surrounding boats while backing away from the dock. Someone shouted, someone ran toward them, but Callie hit the throttle and across the Atlantic Ocean they raced. They fought for ten minutes over who would drive and Callie finally gave up and went to the front of the yacht, her arms held wide, as wind caused her pigtails to stand on end. She laughed and laughed when the two red ribbons that were wrapped around the rubber bands flew off and hit Cam in the face. Miami grew smaller and smaller in the distance and then a school of dolphin held their attention for a few moments.
No one was ever sure why the fire started. Maybe it was because the kids had run the engine wide open and jumped waves like they were in an airplane. Either way, when the smoke began to bubble forth, they pointed at one another and simultaneously said, "You did it! I’m telling! You better not!"
Callie had been the calm one. She grabbed two life jackets and threw one at her brother, who was coughing and hacking. "Get out of the smoke, dummy. Stop, drop, and roll!"
"That’s if you’re on fire!" He waved his arms frantically as he tried to pull the lifejacket on. "We’re drowning!"
"We’re not in the water yet."
"I think I saw a shark!"
"Nuh uh," Callie told him. "We saw dolphins. Daddy said that when we see dolphins there are no sharks."
The flames had reached the deck and the bottoms of Callie’s bare feet were hot, too hot. The fire licked at her legs and she screamed. "Jump, Cam! Jump!"
"I’m scared!"
Callie pushed him into the water and leaped right behind him. He emerged a few feet away, crying now, sputtering and choking. She swam to him and looked back at the burning ship ... his jacket was stuck on the railing. "It’s okay," she said, kicking her feet hard enough to keep them both afloat while she took hold of his arms.
"I don’t swim like you!"
Reaching under the water, she unbuckled her life jacket and pushed it toward him. "Now you won’t have to, Cammy."
"No. I won’t wear it if you can’t."
"Then neither will I." She hooked one of her arms around the front panel of the vest and put his hand on it. The boat burned. Debris hit the water around them. "Just hold on. Hold onto it, Cam."
A dolphin emerged a few feet away, squealing and spyhopping. Something must have brushed Cam's leg because he screamed and went under. Callie swam beneath the water and pulled him back to the surface, pointing at the dolphins, trying to keep him calm. Her brother was sobbing, crying harder than she had ever seen him cry, and he shook hard enough that the water around them vibrated from it.
"Don’t leave me, Callie."
"I won’t."
"Promise me! Promise me!"
"I promise! I’m right here! Just hold on!"
"Sing to me. Sing something, Callie."
She sang ‘Over The Rainbow’. He stopped crying after a while.
And then she went under. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swim. There were sharks, there were stinging jellyfish, and as her lungs filled with water ... she gave in.
And she was glad when everything faded to black and she floated toward the bottom of the sea.
And then Cam was on the rescue boat, alone, and he was shaking.
He was shaking.
Shaking.
Shaking.
"Don’t leave. Callie, please don’t leave me!"
"I’m right here!" Callie repeated and sat bolt upright, gasping in air. It was a dream. It was a dream that she hadn’t had in years and an ending she had never experienced. She hadn’t drowned ... she had been the first one pulled, kicking and screaming when they wrenched her from Cam, onto the boat. She wiped the sweat off her brow and looked around. She was in her bed at the Archfield and the bed was ... shaking.
"Please, Callie. I’m sorry. Don’t go. Don’t do this," George cried, thrashing in his sleep. She looked at him and could see the moisture on his face in the soft glow of the setting sun. He was sweating, crying.
"I love you," he whined, his head moving back and forth. "Callie, I love you so much."
She leaned down and put her hand on his chest. His heart was thumping against her palm hard enough to break through his skin. "George, wake up," she said softly, then pushed his damp hair off his forehead.
"Come back."
Callie’s heart broke a little as she watched him. His face was contorted, his sobs were real, and he was pleading with her, even in slumber he was begging. She caught his arm as he reached out, grasping at something only he could see, and held his hand. Nuzzling the side of his cheek, she whispered in his ear. "I’m here, George. Wake up."
"Callie?" George blinked several times and looked up at her. "Oh my god. You - you weren’t breathing."
"You were dreaming."
"No - no, it happened. Derek turned the machine off and you stopped breathing. You were leaving me."
She had not really considered how stressful it must have been for her husband to make that decision, to watch her not respond. She looked away guiltily. Louise had obviously been correct about one thing ... she had hurt him. Bad.
He reached up and cupped her face, bringing her closer to him. "Breathe. I just want to feel you breathe. Please."
She exhaled against his neck and felt him start to cry again. He clung to her, voicing his fears, apologizing again and again. He promised her everything, even the moon, if she would just not leave him. If she would let him love her, let him make things right. She felt her resolve break when he told her that he’d die without her, that life wasn’t worth living unless it was with her.
And then she was kissing him and she really wasn’t breathing because he had that effect on her and she didn’t care. Her hands were in his hair, her leg was over his and he was clutching at every inch of her, touching her everywhere at once. It was tongues, teeth and tears. It was primal, hungry. She sat up on top of him and pulled her shirt off, flinging it across the room.
George pushed himself up, taking her dusky nipple into his mouth. With his free hand, he palmed the other one, tweaking, pinching. He felt her tug on his shirt and raised his arms, letting her wrench it over his head. And then she was kissing him again and George completely forgot the nightmare.
He was living a dream. A perfect, beautiful dream. He didn’t speak for fear of breaking whatever charm that made her forgive him, but his tears refused to stop flowing. His fingers grabbed at the band in her hair and pulled it free, letting her raven locks fall loose around her face. It tickled his shoulders and drove him insane. The smell of her, the taste, the feel of her warm flesh against his ... yes, it was a dream. It had to be a dream.
Callie’s brain was not in control. Her brain was trying to remind her that she was mad, that she was hurt, but her body shut it down and took charge. She had her pants off and was pushing his over his hips in seconds and then ... then she sank down onto him without preamble and closed her eyes. She felt his fingertips digging into the flesh and rocked forward, pushing him deeper still. "George-"
He thrust his hips, holding her tight against him. She moved her hips in a slow, gratifying circle and his toes curled. "Oh god, baby. Do it again."
She did and he had to wage a war with himself to keep from coming right then. He watched her as she tossed her head back and he reached up, trailing his fingertips between the valley of her breasts, then lower over her stomach. He knew in that moment that he could be drunk enough to die and still remember every last second of what she looked like, how she felt. She jerked against him when he dipped lower still and pressed his thumb against her sensitive core.
She mumbled something that sounded very much like a death threat and he increased the pressure, watching her face. He made her come twice, back to back, and felt her walls clenching at him. Sitting up, he whispered, "Get on your knees."
She did as he requested and he moved behind her. When he slammed into her, she gripped the comforter and cried out and the sound of it almost forced George over the edge. Almost. He stared down at her back, at the tattoo, at the way the ink seemed to undulate as she pumped her hips. It was the most beautiful and *dirty* thing he’d ever seen. Reaching up, he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled lightly. She pushed upward and he latched onto the back of her neck with his mouth, sucking at her tender flesh, marking her, branding her.
She came again and screamed her release. A moment later, George was slumped over her, breathing hard and she sank, boneless, to the bed. He followed, still inside her, and lay against her back, his cheek in her hair.
As soon as her body stopped trembling, reality sank in and then the self loathing started. She pressed her face against the cover and shifted slightly, making it clear that she wanted him off her. He kissed her neck and slipped to her side, his hand on the small of her back. "Leave, George," she finally said.
"What?"
"Get out."
"No." George pushed her hair to one side and said, "Talk to me."
"I won’t do it," she said, her face still against the comforter. "I won’t!"
"You won’t do what?"
She lifted her head and glared at him. "I won’t forgive you for what you did. I won’t forget it. I won’t trust you again. I won’t believe you when you say that it didn’t mean anything and I’ll never, *ever* let my guard down around you again." Her chin trembled and she sobbed loudly. "But I won’t give up on us either. Because I can’t. And I hate you for that. I hate you for what you’ve made me become."
George leaned forward and kissed her. "You don’t hate me."
"Then why am I picturing your insides on the outside?"
"Because you’re a doctor and that’s foreplay, sweetie."
"Ooooh!" she growled and got to her feet. "Don’t try to be cute!"
"Come back to bed." He reached for her, but she pushed him away.
He watched as she stalked across the room and disappeared into the bathroom. George rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "I won’t give up either, by the way," he promised loudly. "And you’ll see that this is the right thing."
"Stop talking to me."
"I love you. You’re incredible and very bendy. Beautiful. And forgiving."
"Stop talking to me!"
"And the tattoo? Best thing ever. I like you on top, but looking down at that ... damn."
She closed the door and he grinned.
If he wasn’t mistaken he was coming very close to winning the war.
//
Three thousand miles away, Cambyses awoke in a cold sweat. He stared at the clock, then at Blake, who sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Something’s wrong with Callie. Get up. Get dressed."
"What? Honey, it’s late and we have meetings tomorrow."
"I’ll pack. You call the airport." Cam pushed the cover away and stood. "Get us on the first flight to Seattle, Blake."
"Just call her, Cam."
"No." Cambyses shook his head. "I don’t have to call her. I know."
"How do you-"
"You remember the story about how we stole my uncle’s boat? Callie saved my life that day. I haven’t dreamed about it in years and tonight ... tonight she was drowning." Cam’s voice was soft. When he looked back at his lover, his eyes were filled with tears. "She’s drowning and she’s not even trying to swim."
*~*~*~*~*~
George cleaned the bedroom, a smile on his face the entire time. He put the fridge back on the counter, picked up the broken pieces of the bottle, and jammed Callie’s clothing back into the bureau. The carpet was stained red from the wine and the wall was spattered, looking like a toddler’s finger painting. He picked up a tall artificial palm tree and placed it in front of the worst of the mess. It worked on the visuals, but the scent of the wine was all over the place. He would call Jerry and ask him to bring his steam cleaner. Callie would not be hiring anyone to clean up after him.
She splashed in the bathtub and George glanced at the door, his smile slowly fading. She had been bathing for over an hour. A steady cloud of steam had been coming out from under the door and he knew that she was scalding herself. That was not unusual, she liked to boil in the tub, but he didn’t like it all the same. She was trying to wash away what they had done, what they had shared. It was a slap in the face that he didn’t need. She apparently felt dirty while he felt elated.
"Cal?" He rapped on the door twice. "I’m going to order dinner before they stop serving. What do you want?"
Her response was colorful and filled with suggestions on what he could do with himself for dinner. His personal favorite was her ribald demand that he stuff the phone up his ass until he choked on it, but the delivery wasn’t quite as convincing at her threat to drown him in the hot tub if he didn’t stop trying to talk to her. "Steak it is," he called out, ignoring her tirade. "Medium rare, right?"
There was more splashing and then she flung the door open and stared out at him. Bubbles clung to her skin, which was as red as a lobster. Her nostrils flared when she saw him looking her up and down. "Don’t look at me like that! Don’t talk to me! And don’t try to feed me because I am not hungry."
Her stomach grumbled and he nodded. "Riiiight. Do you want a baked potato or fries?"
"You never listen to me." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Never. You act like I’m the mom on Charlie Brown and all you ever hear is -"
"Wah wah wah," he finished for her, moving his hand to imitate speak. "How about dessert? You know that the brownie thing makes you insane."
"You make me insane."
"I could. If you’d come back in here."
She slammed the door in his face and he started to turn away, but she opened it again and emerged, wearing her robe. "I figured it out," she said. "I was half asleep. I didn’t know what I was doing."
"Mmm." He nodded. "I thought you might have been what with all the screaming and the orgasms, but I wasn’t sure."
She stopped pacing the room and looked around. "You cleaned up."
"Well, yeah."
"I was going to call someone."
"Why?"
"Because it’s what you do. You pay for someone to fix it."
"I take care of my own messes."
"That’s why you’re hanging around, isn’t it? I’m the mess you made."
"I’m hanging around you because I love you." He reached for the phone, but she stopped him. "What’s wrong? Callie?"
"I’m sorry I didn’t breathe."
"What?"
"When Derek unplugged the machine. And I’m sorry that you had to see it."
He hugged her then. He couldn’t help it and she didn’t pull away. "I love you," he said softly. "And I’m so grateful that you’re taking this chance on me. Thank you."
"George, I -" A knock interrupted her reply and she let her head fall back. "Perfect timing as usual, Mom!"
"Calliope?" Melana called.
"Okay, how did you know that was her?"
"Disturbance in the force? My evil detector?" Callie tightened her robe and opened the door, gazing out at her mother. "What?"
"It took some doing on my part, but your father has agreed to dinner. Nothing fancy, just across the street at the Mexican place. Bring Cheater if you must, but try to wear something decent. You’re going to give Raph a heart attack if you look like a prostitute again." Melana glanced at George. "I took the liberty of inviting your mother. Perhaps she’ll give into her carnal instincts and eat her young."
"Jesus Christ," Callie said as Melana turned on her heel and headed toward the elevator. She shut the door and looked at her husband. "Okay, you get that it’s us against them, right?"
"Fine with me."
"Famous last words?"
"You’ll see. It’s going to be just fine."
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thirty minutes later, they were ready to go.
"Stop fidgeting. You look beautiful."
Callie put her hand down and took a deep breath as they waited to cross the road. La Rodeo was a hole in the wall that was tackier than anything else in Seattle. It usually amused her when she dined there, but her parents were inside this time. Waiting. With Louise. Smoothing her hand over the navy blue dress she wore, she glanced at the traffic. "If I got hit by a car ... that would distract them."
"If you get hit by a car I’m kicking your ass." He reached down and protectively took her hand, locking her fingers between his. "And tomorrow, first thing in the morning, you’re going to the Psych consult. I mean it."
"I need it after what we did."
"We’re married. We’re back together. I love you and I know you’re not saying it right now, but you love me, too, and everything is going to perfect."
"Oh my god. Is that your mother’s car?"
"My mother adores you. I’m the one who has to face *two* parents who despise me. So focus."
They crossed the street. George willingly, Callie unwillingly. George finally had to get behind her and push, which caused someone to honk their horn since Callie was moving like a geriatric with two broken hips. She flipped off the driver and drew up short when she saw that Louise and both her parents were standing a few feet away and had seen her. "Awww, fuck."
"We heard that," Melana said, beckoning her daughter forward. "I was just telling Louise about your new tattoo. Perhaps you’d like to hike your skirt up and show her since you had no trouble stripping off and letting someone put it there to begin with."
"Maybe later." Callie shrugged, then smiled at her mother-in-law. "Hey, Louise."
"Hi, honey. A tattoo, huh? Goodness, most people rebel before their marriage and not after." She looked at her son. "That goes for you, too, Buster. Less than three months and you’ve already cheated."
"Greeeeat." George looked at Callie. "It’s three against one. My mother has joined *their* team."
Callie was watching her father. He was looking everywhere except her and she hated it. "Let’s just go inside and do this."
They were seated at a round booth with two exits. Callie tried to linger, tried to wind up on the end, but it didn’t work out. She found herself right in the middle after Louise gripped her arm and pushed her forward. Louise and Raphael won the coveted spots and Callie had her mother on one side and George on her other. She started to smother right away, claustrophobia closing the walls around her.
The waiter asked for their drink orders. Callie went last and said, "Gin and tonic. Double. More gin than tonic."
"NO!!" All four of her companions roared as one, causing both the waiter and Callie to jump out of their skin.
"She’ll take a water," George amended, then reached under the table and squeezed her leg. "It’s okay."
"It is most assuredly not okay," Raphael finally spoke when the waiter walked away, clutching his chest. "Calliope, look at me."
Callie complied, but didn’t speak. Her father leaned forward and said, "What are you thinking? Do you not see us sitting here? Do you not understand why we crossed the country in the middle of the night to be with you? You would dare order more alcohol after what you did last night?"
She swallowed hard, but remained quiet. Raphael hit the table, hard, and said, "Answer me!"
"And state the obvious? You already know the answers." Callie was angry now and she was brazen in her words. "The last one was pretty obvious, wasn’t it? Yes, apparently I would dare order more alcohol. I did, didn’t I?"
Her defiance unnerved him and Raphael pointed a finger at her. "Do *not* get smart with me. We didn’t raise you to behave so disrespectfully. You are shaming your mother, shaming me, and shaming yourself."
"Raphael, people are starting to stare." Melana laid her hand on top of his and looked at her daughter. "I noticed the smell of alcohol when you opened the door to your room earlier. Did you drink today, mi vida?"
The Spanish endearment got to Callie, especially considering that her mother had not used the term in years. "I had four shots."
"I can’t do this, Melana." Raphael stood and glared down at his wife. "She has no value for anything or anyone. She’s morphed into Sybil. An alcoholic Sybil."
"Sit down, Raph." When he didn’t comply, Melana reached up, grabbed his tie, and pulled him. "Thank you," she said, when he fell against the booth. To Callie, she said, "Explain yourself."
The waiter reappeared with their drinks and Callie could have hugged him for arriving when he did. She listened as he took their dinner orders and shook her head when it was her turn. "I’m not hungry. I’m good."
Raphael cleared his throat. Callie closed her eyes. Finally, she said, "Fine. Taco salad."
When the waiter walked away, she leaned back and looked at Louise. The woman smiled at her and she figured that she was the lesser of the evils and changed the subject. "Did Jerry find the new engine for his car? I gave him the number of a friend of mine who lives near you. He’s got a salvage yard and should be able to get him something that’s reasonable with low mileage."
"Oh, his name is Mack, right?" Louise asked. "He’s been around for dinner a few times. I didn’t know you had introduced them! He’s taking Jerry and Ronnie mountain climbing. He seems nice, but he’s very dirty. And old."
"Yeah. He never got the memo that cleanliness is next to Godliness, but he’s in grease all day, too," Callie replied. "He’s a good climber, though. They’ll have a good time. Are they camping out?"
"I don’t know." Louise folded her hands on the table. "Should they not?"
"If they’re going to then he’s the man to camp with. I always tell him he was born two hundred years too late because he’s got the whole frontier thing down to a science."
"Well, that’s a comfort." Louise smiled innocently. "Now, are we finished ignoring the big pink elephant in the room? Because your parents had something to say to you."
Melana put her hand on Callie’s arm. "Honey, we were wondering if maybe you should think about rehab. There are very nice upscale places that have spas and outdoor activities that you like. You can detox from alcohol in less than a month and-"
"I do not need rehab!" Callie’s mouth dropped open in shock. "Is that what you’re trying to do? Is that why we’re here?"
"What you did? That was a cry for help and we’re listening." Louise looked at George, who was staring at his hands. "George, tell her."
Callie turned in her seat, glaring at her husband. "You knew about this. Tell me that you - George?"
He shook his head. "I didn’t know that this is why they wanted us here, but - but I knew that it was something they were considering. And I think maybe you should have an open mind about it because -"
"I’m leaving." Callie scooted closer to George. "Move."
Louise held her spot on the end, not letting George gain an inch. Callie attempted to stare the woman down, but found herself backing away slightly when Louise pulled off a look that made Bailey appear cherubic. It was Raphael who broke the uncomfortable silence. "Callie? It’s not the end of the world if you admit that you have a problem, but it is the end if you don’t. This is your life we’re talking about."
"I don’t have a problem, Daddy! Do you know what rehab, even unnecessary rehab, would do to my career? I’m a doctor! I prescribe narcotics! If this went on my record then it could affect every job I may ever have! For nothing. I’m fine."
"Mija, people who are fine do not behave this way," he replied as calmly as possible. "You can’t say that it was a mistake. It’s not normal."
"Dad." Callie put her head in her hands and exhaled. "I have never been normal. It took me thirty years to fall in love for the first time and I don’t know how to do it yet! I’ve never felt this way before and it’s overwhelming and horrible. I hate it and because I hate it ... I am bound to make mistakes. And that’s all it was. I’m not lying. I’m not trying to kill myself with alcohol. Or at all. I just - I stopped thinking clearly for a moment and lost control. It’s not happening again."
"You weren’t out of the hospital long before you had four more shots. You admitted it," Mel said.
"And admitting it proves that I’m not trying to hide it, Mami. Ay Dios Mio! No estoy loca! No estoy enferma! No lo necesito!" Callie snapped. "I will *not* go."
"Cal?" George reached for her hand, but she pushed him away. "Callie, do not take this out on me. You have punished me for weeks and that’s fine because I earned it, but *this* ... I can’t take the blame for this. The first thing you said when you woke up in that hospital bed was that you were DNR. You looked Derek in the face and said ‘You were not supposed to save me’. Now, call me crazy, but that sounds like a plan."
"I was upset about the breathing tube."
The food arrived, but no one lifted their fork. Callie waited until the waiter filled a couple of glasses before she spoke again. "I’ve always tried to do the right thing. Always. I went to medical school, Dad, because you asked me to. Mom, I sang at every talent show and spent my summers at workshops, because you asked me to. Louise, I told you the truth in the hospital about Harold when no one else would, because you asked me to. And George, I gave in and we’re working on our marriage, because you asked me to. And now I’m asking you, all of you, to just let me breathe. Let me breathe. Because I stopped for a while and if you let me do it on my own ... then maybe I can remember why I should."
George brushed her hair back and kissed her temple. "Let’s make a deal, okay?"
She was weary now, emotionally exhausted. "What kind of deal?"
He unwrapped her fork and handed it to her. "You eat something and we don’t talk about anything that you don’t want to."
"George-"
"You want us to let you breathe, but you can’t really do that if you starve to death." He pushed her taco salad closer. "So, mountain climbing? How did I not know this?"
"You ever been?" Callie asked and her eyes widened when he shook his head. "How do you live so close to Mount Rainier all your life and never go?"
"I don’t like falling to my death?" He picked up his own fork and took a bite of his rice. "It’s good. Go on and try yours. If you don’t then I’m going to ask you about why you had DNR paperwork to begin with."
Callie grimaced and broke the shell on her salad, putting a small piece in her mouth. "You don’t fall to your death if you climb right. It’s the biggest adrenaline rush you’ll ever feel."
Melana glanced at Louise and smiled and the blond winked at her when Callie broke off another piece of her shell and explained that she had been climbing since birth. She had them all in stitches a while later, recounting a particularly harrowing experience on Mount Everest with her brother Loukas, who decided it was a great way to overcome his fear of heights. Melana and Rafael eventually chimed in, embarrassing Callie with a few childhood tales and by the time it was over, half of Callie’s salad was gone and George looked impressed with himself.
Raphael paid, left a tip, and watched as Callie counted it, then pulled several bills from her purse and laid them on the table. Clearly she still didn’t approve of his tipping habits. He smiled a little and stood, helping Melana from her seat. Callie slid out behind her mother and he caught her around the waist, hugging her to him. "You’re very generous with your money, mija."
"Because you’re not," she replied, leaning her head against him. "And waiters work hard, Daddy. I see them all the time for heel spurs and shin splints."
"You’re a good girl." He stroked the back of her hair and added, "I love you, kitten. I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. I’m not mad. I’m just scared for you."
"You don’t have to be." Callie leaned back so she could look at him. "George is even more overprotective than you are and he won’t go away."
"I noticed. And good for George." Raph kissed her on the forehead. "You said that you’re going to try to make your marriage work. Do you still want to have this party?"
Callie looked at George, then at Louise and Melana, who were standing side by side. They looked hopeful. The last thing she wanted was the stress of a party, but she nodded anyway. "Yeah. We should - you know, introduce our families. And I really want to see Cam."
"Your father and I have decided to remain here until after the party," Melana told her. "It’s easier to finish the plans if we’re here and it will give Louise and I a chance to shop together."
"Plus you want to spy on me. I get it."
Louise spoke before Melana could. "We’re not spying, sweetheart. We just want you kids to know that we’re here. For anything. We want to help you."
Callie stepped away from her dad and let her mother-in-law hug her. "I know."
When she turned to tell her parents goodnight, her father was shaking George’s hand and then Melana kissed him on both cheeks and gave him a dazzling smile. It was at that point that Callie knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had been played. Quite well.
But she really didn’t mind very much.
When George took her hand and kissed it, she knew she didn’t mind at all.
Maybe there was something to be said for forgiveness.
It made her soul quiet. Without the alcohol.
*~*~*~*~*~
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairing: Addison/Mark, Callie/George, Callie/Alex (friendship), George/Izzie (implied)
Rating: NC17
Summary: Sometimes it hurts to fall, but if you're lucky someone may catch you. And they may be falling, too.
One
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Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
*~*~*~*~*~
There have been times that I thought I couldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able to carry on
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will
-Sam Cooke
*~*~*~*~*~
Callie was dreaming about her Uncle Kakistos’s yacht. At forty two feet it was smooth and could launch itself across the water faster than a rocket. That’s why they had stolen it. Cam was mad that his uncle wouldn’t let him spend his allowance on a rocket kit and he had enlisted Callie’s help, who was mad on principle alone. Any time either twin was wronged, the wrong-doer felt the wraith of both children and that was all there was to it.
"Just do it already." Callie, who was ten again in her dream, looked at her brother. "I took the keys. You start the engine."
"What if we hit a whale?" Cam asked, his dark eyes wide. He pushed his black hair away from his face and gazed at her. "Or a shark. No, we’re goin' to get killed."
"Cammy, we’re already gettin' killed for ridin' our bikes across the interstate. At least this will be fun."
"I changed my mind. We need to go back home, Callie. What if we get caught?"
"Chicken."
"I am not a chicken!"
She flapped her arms and squawked at him.
Cambyses frowned and started the engine. He hit two of the surrounding boats while backing away from the dock. Someone shouted, someone ran toward them, but Callie hit the throttle and across the Atlantic Ocean they raced. They fought for ten minutes over who would drive and Callie finally gave up and went to the front of the yacht, her arms held wide, as wind caused her pigtails to stand on end. She laughed and laughed when the two red ribbons that were wrapped around the rubber bands flew off and hit Cam in the face. Miami grew smaller and smaller in the distance and then a school of dolphin held their attention for a few moments.
No one was ever sure why the fire started. Maybe it was because the kids had run the engine wide open and jumped waves like they were in an airplane. Either way, when the smoke began to bubble forth, they pointed at one another and simultaneously said, "You did it! I’m telling! You better not!"
Callie had been the calm one. She grabbed two life jackets and threw one at her brother, who was coughing and hacking. "Get out of the smoke, dummy. Stop, drop, and roll!"
"That’s if you’re on fire!" He waved his arms frantically as he tried to pull the lifejacket on. "We’re drowning!"
"We’re not in the water yet."
"I think I saw a shark!"
"Nuh uh," Callie told him. "We saw dolphins. Daddy said that when we see dolphins there are no sharks."
The flames had reached the deck and the bottoms of Callie’s bare feet were hot, too hot. The fire licked at her legs and she screamed. "Jump, Cam! Jump!"
"I’m scared!"
Callie pushed him into the water and leaped right behind him. He emerged a few feet away, crying now, sputtering and choking. She swam to him and looked back at the burning ship ... his jacket was stuck on the railing. "It’s okay," she said, kicking her feet hard enough to keep them both afloat while she took hold of his arms.
"I don’t swim like you!"
Reaching under the water, she unbuckled her life jacket and pushed it toward him. "Now you won’t have to, Cammy."
"No. I won’t wear it if you can’t."
"Then neither will I." She hooked one of her arms around the front panel of the vest and put his hand on it. The boat burned. Debris hit the water around them. "Just hold on. Hold onto it, Cam."
A dolphin emerged a few feet away, squealing and spyhopping. Something must have brushed Cam's leg because he screamed and went under. Callie swam beneath the water and pulled him back to the surface, pointing at the dolphins, trying to keep him calm. Her brother was sobbing, crying harder than she had ever seen him cry, and he shook hard enough that the water around them vibrated from it.
"Don’t leave me, Callie."
"I won’t."
"Promise me! Promise me!"
"I promise! I’m right here! Just hold on!"
"Sing to me. Sing something, Callie."
She sang ‘Over The Rainbow’. He stopped crying after a while.
And then she went under. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swim. There were sharks, there were stinging jellyfish, and as her lungs filled with water ... she gave in.
And she was glad when everything faded to black and she floated toward the bottom of the sea.
And then Cam was on the rescue boat, alone, and he was shaking.
He was shaking.
Shaking.
Shaking.
"Don’t leave. Callie, please don’t leave me!"
"I’m right here!" Callie repeated and sat bolt upright, gasping in air. It was a dream. It was a dream that she hadn’t had in years and an ending she had never experienced. She hadn’t drowned ... she had been the first one pulled, kicking and screaming when they wrenched her from Cam, onto the boat. She wiped the sweat off her brow and looked around. She was in her bed at the Archfield and the bed was ... shaking.
"Please, Callie. I’m sorry. Don’t go. Don’t do this," George cried, thrashing in his sleep. She looked at him and could see the moisture on his face in the soft glow of the setting sun. He was sweating, crying.
"I love you," he whined, his head moving back and forth. "Callie, I love you so much."
She leaned down and put her hand on his chest. His heart was thumping against her palm hard enough to break through his skin. "George, wake up," she said softly, then pushed his damp hair off his forehead.
"Come back."
Callie’s heart broke a little as she watched him. His face was contorted, his sobs were real, and he was pleading with her, even in slumber he was begging. She caught his arm as he reached out, grasping at something only he could see, and held his hand. Nuzzling the side of his cheek, she whispered in his ear. "I’m here, George. Wake up."
"Callie?" George blinked several times and looked up at her. "Oh my god. You - you weren’t breathing."
"You were dreaming."
"No - no, it happened. Derek turned the machine off and you stopped breathing. You were leaving me."
She had not really considered how stressful it must have been for her husband to make that decision, to watch her not respond. She looked away guiltily. Louise had obviously been correct about one thing ... she had hurt him. Bad.
He reached up and cupped her face, bringing her closer to him. "Breathe. I just want to feel you breathe. Please."
She exhaled against his neck and felt him start to cry again. He clung to her, voicing his fears, apologizing again and again. He promised her everything, even the moon, if she would just not leave him. If she would let him love her, let him make things right. She felt her resolve break when he told her that he’d die without her, that life wasn’t worth living unless it was with her.
And then she was kissing him and she really wasn’t breathing because he had that effect on her and she didn’t care. Her hands were in his hair, her leg was over his and he was clutching at every inch of her, touching her everywhere at once. It was tongues, teeth and tears. It was primal, hungry. She sat up on top of him and pulled her shirt off, flinging it across the room.
George pushed himself up, taking her dusky nipple into his mouth. With his free hand, he palmed the other one, tweaking, pinching. He felt her tug on his shirt and raised his arms, letting her wrench it over his head. And then she was kissing him again and George completely forgot the nightmare.
He was living a dream. A perfect, beautiful dream. He didn’t speak for fear of breaking whatever charm that made her forgive him, but his tears refused to stop flowing. His fingers grabbed at the band in her hair and pulled it free, letting her raven locks fall loose around her face. It tickled his shoulders and drove him insane. The smell of her, the taste, the feel of her warm flesh against his ... yes, it was a dream. It had to be a dream.
Callie’s brain was not in control. Her brain was trying to remind her that she was mad, that she was hurt, but her body shut it down and took charge. She had her pants off and was pushing his over his hips in seconds and then ... then she sank down onto him without preamble and closed her eyes. She felt his fingertips digging into the flesh and rocked forward, pushing him deeper still. "George-"
He thrust his hips, holding her tight against him. She moved her hips in a slow, gratifying circle and his toes curled. "Oh god, baby. Do it again."
She did and he had to wage a war with himself to keep from coming right then. He watched her as she tossed her head back and he reached up, trailing his fingertips between the valley of her breasts, then lower over her stomach. He knew in that moment that he could be drunk enough to die and still remember every last second of what she looked like, how she felt. She jerked against him when he dipped lower still and pressed his thumb against her sensitive core.
She mumbled something that sounded very much like a death threat and he increased the pressure, watching her face. He made her come twice, back to back, and felt her walls clenching at him. Sitting up, he whispered, "Get on your knees."
She did as he requested and he moved behind her. When he slammed into her, she gripped the comforter and cried out and the sound of it almost forced George over the edge. Almost. He stared down at her back, at the tattoo, at the way the ink seemed to undulate as she pumped her hips. It was the most beautiful and *dirty* thing he’d ever seen. Reaching up, he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled lightly. She pushed upward and he latched onto the back of her neck with his mouth, sucking at her tender flesh, marking her, branding her.
She came again and screamed her release. A moment later, George was slumped over her, breathing hard and she sank, boneless, to the bed. He followed, still inside her, and lay against her back, his cheek in her hair.
As soon as her body stopped trembling, reality sank in and then the self loathing started. She pressed her face against the cover and shifted slightly, making it clear that she wanted him off her. He kissed her neck and slipped to her side, his hand on the small of her back. "Leave, George," she finally said.
"What?"
"Get out."
"No." George pushed her hair to one side and said, "Talk to me."
"I won’t do it," she said, her face still against the comforter. "I won’t!"
"You won’t do what?"
She lifted her head and glared at him. "I won’t forgive you for what you did. I won’t forget it. I won’t trust you again. I won’t believe you when you say that it didn’t mean anything and I’ll never, *ever* let my guard down around you again." Her chin trembled and she sobbed loudly. "But I won’t give up on us either. Because I can’t. And I hate you for that. I hate you for what you’ve made me become."
George leaned forward and kissed her. "You don’t hate me."
"Then why am I picturing your insides on the outside?"
"Because you’re a doctor and that’s foreplay, sweetie."
"Ooooh!" she growled and got to her feet. "Don’t try to be cute!"
"Come back to bed." He reached for her, but she pushed him away.
He watched as she stalked across the room and disappeared into the bathroom. George rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "I won’t give up either, by the way," he promised loudly. "And you’ll see that this is the right thing."
"Stop talking to me."
"I love you. You’re incredible and very bendy. Beautiful. And forgiving."
"Stop talking to me!"
"And the tattoo? Best thing ever. I like you on top, but looking down at that ... damn."
She closed the door and he grinned.
If he wasn’t mistaken he was coming very close to winning the war.
//
Three thousand miles away, Cambyses awoke in a cold sweat. He stared at the clock, then at Blake, who sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Something’s wrong with Callie. Get up. Get dressed."
"What? Honey, it’s late and we have meetings tomorrow."
"I’ll pack. You call the airport." Cam pushed the cover away and stood. "Get us on the first flight to Seattle, Blake."
"Just call her, Cam."
"No." Cambyses shook his head. "I don’t have to call her. I know."
"How do you-"
"You remember the story about how we stole my uncle’s boat? Callie saved my life that day. I haven’t dreamed about it in years and tonight ... tonight she was drowning." Cam’s voice was soft. When he looked back at his lover, his eyes were filled with tears. "She’s drowning and she’s not even trying to swim."
*~*~*~*~*~
George cleaned the bedroom, a smile on his face the entire time. He put the fridge back on the counter, picked up the broken pieces of the bottle, and jammed Callie’s clothing back into the bureau. The carpet was stained red from the wine and the wall was spattered, looking like a toddler’s finger painting. He picked up a tall artificial palm tree and placed it in front of the worst of the mess. It worked on the visuals, but the scent of the wine was all over the place. He would call Jerry and ask him to bring his steam cleaner. Callie would not be hiring anyone to clean up after him.
She splashed in the bathtub and George glanced at the door, his smile slowly fading. She had been bathing for over an hour. A steady cloud of steam had been coming out from under the door and he knew that she was scalding herself. That was not unusual, she liked to boil in the tub, but he didn’t like it all the same. She was trying to wash away what they had done, what they had shared. It was a slap in the face that he didn’t need. She apparently felt dirty while he felt elated.
"Cal?" He rapped on the door twice. "I’m going to order dinner before they stop serving. What do you want?"
Her response was colorful and filled with suggestions on what he could do with himself for dinner. His personal favorite was her ribald demand that he stuff the phone up his ass until he choked on it, but the delivery wasn’t quite as convincing at her threat to drown him in the hot tub if he didn’t stop trying to talk to her. "Steak it is," he called out, ignoring her tirade. "Medium rare, right?"
There was more splashing and then she flung the door open and stared out at him. Bubbles clung to her skin, which was as red as a lobster. Her nostrils flared when she saw him looking her up and down. "Don’t look at me like that! Don’t talk to me! And don’t try to feed me because I am not hungry."
Her stomach grumbled and he nodded. "Riiiight. Do you want a baked potato or fries?"
"You never listen to me." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Never. You act like I’m the mom on Charlie Brown and all you ever hear is -"
"Wah wah wah," he finished for her, moving his hand to imitate speak. "How about dessert? You know that the brownie thing makes you insane."
"You make me insane."
"I could. If you’d come back in here."
She slammed the door in his face and he started to turn away, but she opened it again and emerged, wearing her robe. "I figured it out," she said. "I was half asleep. I didn’t know what I was doing."
"Mmm." He nodded. "I thought you might have been what with all the screaming and the orgasms, but I wasn’t sure."
She stopped pacing the room and looked around. "You cleaned up."
"Well, yeah."
"I was going to call someone."
"Why?"
"Because it’s what you do. You pay for someone to fix it."
"I take care of my own messes."
"That’s why you’re hanging around, isn’t it? I’m the mess you made."
"I’m hanging around you because I love you." He reached for the phone, but she stopped him. "What’s wrong? Callie?"
"I’m sorry I didn’t breathe."
"What?"
"When Derek unplugged the machine. And I’m sorry that you had to see it."
He hugged her then. He couldn’t help it and she didn’t pull away. "I love you," he said softly. "And I’m so grateful that you’re taking this chance on me. Thank you."
"George, I -" A knock interrupted her reply and she let her head fall back. "Perfect timing as usual, Mom!"
"Calliope?" Melana called.
"Okay, how did you know that was her?"
"Disturbance in the force? My evil detector?" Callie tightened her robe and opened the door, gazing out at her mother. "What?"
"It took some doing on my part, but your father has agreed to dinner. Nothing fancy, just across the street at the Mexican place. Bring Cheater if you must, but try to wear something decent. You’re going to give Raph a heart attack if you look like a prostitute again." Melana glanced at George. "I took the liberty of inviting your mother. Perhaps she’ll give into her carnal instincts and eat her young."
"Jesus Christ," Callie said as Melana turned on her heel and headed toward the elevator. She shut the door and looked at her husband. "Okay, you get that it’s us against them, right?"
"Fine with me."
"Famous last words?"
"You’ll see. It’s going to be just fine."
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thirty minutes later, they were ready to go.
"Stop fidgeting. You look beautiful."
Callie put her hand down and took a deep breath as they waited to cross the road. La Rodeo was a hole in the wall that was tackier than anything else in Seattle. It usually amused her when she dined there, but her parents were inside this time. Waiting. With Louise. Smoothing her hand over the navy blue dress she wore, she glanced at the traffic. "If I got hit by a car ... that would distract them."
"If you get hit by a car I’m kicking your ass." He reached down and protectively took her hand, locking her fingers between his. "And tomorrow, first thing in the morning, you’re going to the Psych consult. I mean it."
"I need it after what we did."
"We’re married. We’re back together. I love you and I know you’re not saying it right now, but you love me, too, and everything is going to perfect."
"Oh my god. Is that your mother’s car?"
"My mother adores you. I’m the one who has to face *two* parents who despise me. So focus."
They crossed the street. George willingly, Callie unwillingly. George finally had to get behind her and push, which caused someone to honk their horn since Callie was moving like a geriatric with two broken hips. She flipped off the driver and drew up short when she saw that Louise and both her parents were standing a few feet away and had seen her. "Awww, fuck."
"We heard that," Melana said, beckoning her daughter forward. "I was just telling Louise about your new tattoo. Perhaps you’d like to hike your skirt up and show her since you had no trouble stripping off and letting someone put it there to begin with."
"Maybe later." Callie shrugged, then smiled at her mother-in-law. "Hey, Louise."
"Hi, honey. A tattoo, huh? Goodness, most people rebel before their marriage and not after." She looked at her son. "That goes for you, too, Buster. Less than three months and you’ve already cheated."
"Greeeeat." George looked at Callie. "It’s three against one. My mother has joined *their* team."
Callie was watching her father. He was looking everywhere except her and she hated it. "Let’s just go inside and do this."
They were seated at a round booth with two exits. Callie tried to linger, tried to wind up on the end, but it didn’t work out. She found herself right in the middle after Louise gripped her arm and pushed her forward. Louise and Raphael won the coveted spots and Callie had her mother on one side and George on her other. She started to smother right away, claustrophobia closing the walls around her.
The waiter asked for their drink orders. Callie went last and said, "Gin and tonic. Double. More gin than tonic."
"NO!!" All four of her companions roared as one, causing both the waiter and Callie to jump out of their skin.
"She’ll take a water," George amended, then reached under the table and squeezed her leg. "It’s okay."
"It is most assuredly not okay," Raphael finally spoke when the waiter walked away, clutching his chest. "Calliope, look at me."
Callie complied, but didn’t speak. Her father leaned forward and said, "What are you thinking? Do you not see us sitting here? Do you not understand why we crossed the country in the middle of the night to be with you? You would dare order more alcohol after what you did last night?"
She swallowed hard, but remained quiet. Raphael hit the table, hard, and said, "Answer me!"
"And state the obvious? You already know the answers." Callie was angry now and she was brazen in her words. "The last one was pretty obvious, wasn’t it? Yes, apparently I would dare order more alcohol. I did, didn’t I?"
Her defiance unnerved him and Raphael pointed a finger at her. "Do *not* get smart with me. We didn’t raise you to behave so disrespectfully. You are shaming your mother, shaming me, and shaming yourself."
"Raphael, people are starting to stare." Melana laid her hand on top of his and looked at her daughter. "I noticed the smell of alcohol when you opened the door to your room earlier. Did you drink today, mi vida?"
The Spanish endearment got to Callie, especially considering that her mother had not used the term in years. "I had four shots."
"I can’t do this, Melana." Raphael stood and glared down at his wife. "She has no value for anything or anyone. She’s morphed into Sybil. An alcoholic Sybil."
"Sit down, Raph." When he didn’t comply, Melana reached up, grabbed his tie, and pulled him. "Thank you," she said, when he fell against the booth. To Callie, she said, "Explain yourself."
The waiter reappeared with their drinks and Callie could have hugged him for arriving when he did. She listened as he took their dinner orders and shook her head when it was her turn. "I’m not hungry. I’m good."
Raphael cleared his throat. Callie closed her eyes. Finally, she said, "Fine. Taco salad."
When the waiter walked away, she leaned back and looked at Louise. The woman smiled at her and she figured that she was the lesser of the evils and changed the subject. "Did Jerry find the new engine for his car? I gave him the number of a friend of mine who lives near you. He’s got a salvage yard and should be able to get him something that’s reasonable with low mileage."
"Oh, his name is Mack, right?" Louise asked. "He’s been around for dinner a few times. I didn’t know you had introduced them! He’s taking Jerry and Ronnie mountain climbing. He seems nice, but he’s very dirty. And old."
"Yeah. He never got the memo that cleanliness is next to Godliness, but he’s in grease all day, too," Callie replied. "He’s a good climber, though. They’ll have a good time. Are they camping out?"
"I don’t know." Louise folded her hands on the table. "Should they not?"
"If they’re going to then he’s the man to camp with. I always tell him he was born two hundred years too late because he’s got the whole frontier thing down to a science."
"Well, that’s a comfort." Louise smiled innocently. "Now, are we finished ignoring the big pink elephant in the room? Because your parents had something to say to you."
Melana put her hand on Callie’s arm. "Honey, we were wondering if maybe you should think about rehab. There are very nice upscale places that have spas and outdoor activities that you like. You can detox from alcohol in less than a month and-"
"I do not need rehab!" Callie’s mouth dropped open in shock. "Is that what you’re trying to do? Is that why we’re here?"
"What you did? That was a cry for help and we’re listening." Louise looked at George, who was staring at his hands. "George, tell her."
Callie turned in her seat, glaring at her husband. "You knew about this. Tell me that you - George?"
He shook his head. "I didn’t know that this is why they wanted us here, but - but I knew that it was something they were considering. And I think maybe you should have an open mind about it because -"
"I’m leaving." Callie scooted closer to George. "Move."
Louise held her spot on the end, not letting George gain an inch. Callie attempted to stare the woman down, but found herself backing away slightly when Louise pulled off a look that made Bailey appear cherubic. It was Raphael who broke the uncomfortable silence. "Callie? It’s not the end of the world if you admit that you have a problem, but it is the end if you don’t. This is your life we’re talking about."
"I don’t have a problem, Daddy! Do you know what rehab, even unnecessary rehab, would do to my career? I’m a doctor! I prescribe narcotics! If this went on my record then it could affect every job I may ever have! For nothing. I’m fine."
"Mija, people who are fine do not behave this way," he replied as calmly as possible. "You can’t say that it was a mistake. It’s not normal."
"Dad." Callie put her head in her hands and exhaled. "I have never been normal. It took me thirty years to fall in love for the first time and I don’t know how to do it yet! I’ve never felt this way before and it’s overwhelming and horrible. I hate it and because I hate it ... I am bound to make mistakes. And that’s all it was. I’m not lying. I’m not trying to kill myself with alcohol. Or at all. I just - I stopped thinking clearly for a moment and lost control. It’s not happening again."
"You weren’t out of the hospital long before you had four more shots. You admitted it," Mel said.
"And admitting it proves that I’m not trying to hide it, Mami. Ay Dios Mio! No estoy loca! No estoy enferma! No lo necesito!" Callie snapped. "I will *not* go."
"Cal?" George reached for her hand, but she pushed him away. "Callie, do not take this out on me. You have punished me for weeks and that’s fine because I earned it, but *this* ... I can’t take the blame for this. The first thing you said when you woke up in that hospital bed was that you were DNR. You looked Derek in the face and said ‘You were not supposed to save me’. Now, call me crazy, but that sounds like a plan."
"I was upset about the breathing tube."
The food arrived, but no one lifted their fork. Callie waited until the waiter filled a couple of glasses before she spoke again. "I’ve always tried to do the right thing. Always. I went to medical school, Dad, because you asked me to. Mom, I sang at every talent show and spent my summers at workshops, because you asked me to. Louise, I told you the truth in the hospital about Harold when no one else would, because you asked me to. And George, I gave in and we’re working on our marriage, because you asked me to. And now I’m asking you, all of you, to just let me breathe. Let me breathe. Because I stopped for a while and if you let me do it on my own ... then maybe I can remember why I should."
George brushed her hair back and kissed her temple. "Let’s make a deal, okay?"
She was weary now, emotionally exhausted. "What kind of deal?"
He unwrapped her fork and handed it to her. "You eat something and we don’t talk about anything that you don’t want to."
"George-"
"You want us to let you breathe, but you can’t really do that if you starve to death." He pushed her taco salad closer. "So, mountain climbing? How did I not know this?"
"You ever been?" Callie asked and her eyes widened when he shook his head. "How do you live so close to Mount Rainier all your life and never go?"
"I don’t like falling to my death?" He picked up his own fork and took a bite of his rice. "It’s good. Go on and try yours. If you don’t then I’m going to ask you about why you had DNR paperwork to begin with."
Callie grimaced and broke the shell on her salad, putting a small piece in her mouth. "You don’t fall to your death if you climb right. It’s the biggest adrenaline rush you’ll ever feel."
Melana glanced at Louise and smiled and the blond winked at her when Callie broke off another piece of her shell and explained that she had been climbing since birth. She had them all in stitches a while later, recounting a particularly harrowing experience on Mount Everest with her brother Loukas, who decided it was a great way to overcome his fear of heights. Melana and Rafael eventually chimed in, embarrassing Callie with a few childhood tales and by the time it was over, half of Callie’s salad was gone and George looked impressed with himself.
Raphael paid, left a tip, and watched as Callie counted it, then pulled several bills from her purse and laid them on the table. Clearly she still didn’t approve of his tipping habits. He smiled a little and stood, helping Melana from her seat. Callie slid out behind her mother and he caught her around the waist, hugging her to him. "You’re very generous with your money, mija."
"Because you’re not," she replied, leaning her head against him. "And waiters work hard, Daddy. I see them all the time for heel spurs and shin splints."
"You’re a good girl." He stroked the back of her hair and added, "I love you, kitten. I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. I’m not mad. I’m just scared for you."
"You don’t have to be." Callie leaned back so she could look at him. "George is even more overprotective than you are and he won’t go away."
"I noticed. And good for George." Raph kissed her on the forehead. "You said that you’re going to try to make your marriage work. Do you still want to have this party?"
Callie looked at George, then at Louise and Melana, who were standing side by side. They looked hopeful. The last thing she wanted was the stress of a party, but she nodded anyway. "Yeah. We should - you know, introduce our families. And I really want to see Cam."
"Your father and I have decided to remain here until after the party," Melana told her. "It’s easier to finish the plans if we’re here and it will give Louise and I a chance to shop together."
"Plus you want to spy on me. I get it."
Louise spoke before Melana could. "We’re not spying, sweetheart. We just want you kids to know that we’re here. For anything. We want to help you."
Callie stepped away from her dad and let her mother-in-law hug her. "I know."
When she turned to tell her parents goodnight, her father was shaking George’s hand and then Melana kissed him on both cheeks and gave him a dazzling smile. It was at that point that Callie knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had been played. Quite well.
But she really didn’t mind very much.
When George took her hand and kissed it, she knew she didn’t mind at all.
Maybe there was something to be said for forgiveness.
It made her soul quiet. Without the alcohol.
*~*~*~*~*~