The Seasons of Callan Reed: An Enemies-to-Lovers Office Romance

by S. M. Soto

  For the first time, disappointment flashes in Callan’s eyes. “I told you last week that I had a surprise for you today. I specifically told you to be ready. I even texted you a reminder!”

  I jerk back at his rising tone. His frustration radiates off him in waves. “I just told you my phone is broken, Callan, and I…I’m sorry. It must’ve slipped my mind. Faith has been crying so much, and I—”

  He cuts me off. “Where are you going then?”

  I swallow. “I’m taking Faith over to Dean’s parents’ house so they can see her.”

  His nostrils flare. Callan swipes a hand over his jaw and nods, mostly to himself. “Right. Of course, you are.”

  I heave a deep sigh, my eyes slamming shut. “I’m so sorry, Callan. Everything has been slipping my mind lately. Maybe we can reschedule tonight? Just so I don’t break my date with his parents.”

  “Because why would we ever want to do that, right?” He scoffs.

  My eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m not surprised. You’ve been choosing Dean for years, so I don’t know why I expected that to change now.”

  I draw back at the accusation. “Faith is their granddaughter, Callan. I can’t just keep her away from them!”

  “I’m sure that’s the only reason you’re jumping at the opportunity to spend time with them.” His face is twisted with disdain and contempt.

  “What?” I exclaim, tone affronted. “You think I like sitting there with his parents? Do you know how awkward that is for me? How painful?”

  Callan brushes past me, ignoring me. “Forget it. Just go.”

  Rage simmers low in my gut as I think about the shady way he’s been acting. He has no right to make me seem like I’m the one up to no good. “What the hell is your problem, Callan? It’s one fucking night. How hard is it to do it another day? You act like I’m doing this on purpose.”

  He swipes a frustrated hand through his unruly mane of hair, anger flashing across his face. “God, you really are the same foolish girl from thirteen years ago.”

  My heart drops.

  My stomach churns uneasily.

  Bile rises, and my eyes burn.

  “Foolish girl? I’m foolish because I don’t want to deprive Faith of her family? Those are her biological grandparents, Callan. I’m not going to keep them away from her just because your feelings are hurt.”

  He laughs, and I flinch at the harsh, cold sound. “No, you’re right. I didn’t mean foolish. It makes you fucking stupid for asking how high whenever they tell you to jump. They have you wrapped around their fucking fingers, and you don’t even see it. You’re too busy mourning your husband, reminiscing about the past!”

  Hot tears slip down my cheeks, but I make no move to wipe them.

  “Is that what you think I do there with them? Think about all the good times?”

  “I couldn’t really care less what you do anymore, Daisy.”

  “Why are you always such an asshole, huh?” I yell. “Are you that miserable in your own life?”

  He stiffens.

  So do I.

  I regret the words as soon as I say them. I didn’t mean it. I don’t even know why I said it.

  “And are you that stupid you’ll continue chasing a life you’ll never have, a family that will never be yours?” he murmurs, hitting me right where it hurts.

  “You know,” I choke out. “I’ve always made excuses for you, Callan. Excuses for your behavior, but you know what?” I laugh sadly. “You’re just a sad man. You’re an asshole who will never find happiness because you’re so ugly inside.”

  He smirks. “You done? I’m sure your family is waiting.”

  “I hate you.”

  “The feeling is mutual, babe.”

  I storm away and pause over the threshold. Glancing over my shoulder, I find him staring out of his floor-to-ceiling windows, his gaze fixed on the view. There’s no apology, no “Wait, don’t go.” Nothing of the sort.

  Ice settles into my chest, and I sniff past the pressure building in my nose.

  Grabbing the diaper bag and car seat, I leave.

  It’s after seven at night when I find myself on Rose’s doorstep with tears in my eyes. The day has finally caught up with me, and I’m an absolute mess. After two rings and some knocking, Damon finally answers, a frown marring his face as he takes Faith and me in.

  “Wait, what are you doing here?”

  “I need to see Rose.”

  If possible, his frown deepens. “She’s at the gallery. She has been for the past few hours. I thought you were there with her?”

  “What? No. I got into a fight with Callan, and I had to take Faith to see Dean’s parents. I didn’t feel like dealing with Cal tonight.”

  Damon’s eyes slam shut, and he blows out a sigh. “Christ, Daisy. You both really need to get it together.”

  I frown, not understanding.

  “Let me get dressed. There’s something you need to see.”

  I sit silently in the passenger seat as Damon drives through the city. He stops in front of a building, and my stomach drops when I see the fancy people dressed up through the windows.

  “What is this?” I whisper, my heart aching as I await his answer.

  “It’s where you were supposed to be tonight.”

  “Why would I be here, at an art gallery?”

  Damon smiles sadly. “Why don’t you get out and see for yourself?”

  “But Faith…”

  “Faith is asleep, and I’m right here, Daisy. If it makes you more comfortable, I’ll call Rose over for help.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

  My legs feel like weights as I close in on the entrance. Everyone stares at me warily as I step inside. I’m sure it has a lot to do with the fact that I’m severely underdressed.

  “Are you here to see the art exhibit?”

  I turn at the sound of the voice, my head cocked to the side. “Art exhibit?”

  The woman eyes me, questions swirling in her gaze. She’s a small woman with a petite frame and pale skin, but she’s beautiful, nonetheless.

  She extends her hand between us. “I’m Emma. I own this art gallery.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry, I’m just a little confused. Apparently, I’m supposed to be here, but I have no idea what for, and I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion,” I mumble, looking down at myself. When I glance back up, she’s eyeing me curiously with a glimmer in her gaze.

  “It makes so much sense now,” she says with a smile, her gaze traveling up and down my body and sweeping across my face.

  “What makes sense?”

  “Why he would do all this for you. Love makes us do crazy things.” She winks and entwines her arm with mine, shocking me. “Now, come, come. It’ll all make sense soon.”

  She leads me through the gallery, and unable to help myself, I take in the awe-inspiring pieces surrounding us. Some of them are art pieces made of clay, others strictly paintings or drawings. It’s a little bit of everything, and I love it all. As much as I’d like to stop and stare at each one for an appropriate amount of time, she seems to be on a mission.

  Once we turn a corner, where most of the guests are milling about, my breath catches, and I freeze.

  “Oh, my God,” I breathe out, tears swimming in my eyes, dripping down my cheeks.

  My art.

  My paintings.

  They’re everywhere.

  Each painting is spaced out along the walls, on display, and people are actually standing around, looking at them, staring at them, discussing them. I press a trembling hand over my mouth, suddenly overcome with emotion.

  “I take it these are good tears?” Emma asks, a smile in her voice.

  “The best,” I choke.

  “You’re very talented. Not that I ever doubted Cal. He has an eye for talent.”

  I swing my gaze to hers, eyes narrowed. “You know Callan?”

  “We went to college together a
nd have been friends ever since. He came to me a few months ago with a few of your pieces, I hope you don’t mind, and I told him they were gold. He only agreed to do this if all proceeds went straight to you.”

  Out of everything she’s just said, I hang on to one part. “So, in college, were you guys…?”

  “Callan and me? Oh, God, no. I mean, he’s easy on the eyes, but a bit of an asshole. Judging by the look on your face, I take it you know this already?”

  A laugh bursts from my chest. “I grew up with him. I know it all too well.”

  She pulls a face then, as if realization dawns, and her eyes widen. “Oh, my God. It’s you, you’re the California girl! The one who got away, aren’t you?”

  “What makes you think that?” I ask, my heart thundering in my chest.

  “Callan was a mess his first years in college. Would only date blondes, hated the name Daisy. He was completely heartbroken.”

  I look away, my heart twinging at this news. I thought it would make me feel better, knowing Callan was all the way out here hurting without me, but instead, I feel worse, so much worse. I had a husband I could lose myself in, but who did he have, other than his friends?

  “Daisy! What the hell? We’ve been waiting for you guys to show all night!” Rose growls, stomping toward us. “Where’s my brother?”

  My heart squeezes painfully. “I fucked up, Rose.”

  She sighs, her eyes slamming shut. “God, the back and forth between you two is going to be the death of me. Seriously.”

  “I’d like to interject, if I may. I may not know you very well or know what happened tonight, but I do know he cares about you. He loves you. No one would do all this for someone if they didn’t.”

  “Who are you?” Rosalind asks, a single brow raised.

  “A friend of Callan’s.”

  She purses her lips. “What kind of friend?”

  I share a look with Emma, and we smile. “Not the kind you’re thinking. But enough about me. Go make things right because I’d love to tell you both the good news in person.”

  I want to ask what news, but the urgency flowing through my veins tells me to get to Callan. Screw the good news. I need to make this right.

  After asking Rose to take care of Faith for me, I haul a cab back to the penthouse. When the elevators open, I step off and pause, working to calm my racing heart. Licking my dry lips, I make my way through the upper level and hover at the mouth of the hallway. His office light is on, meaning he’s up late working again. I swallow past my apprehension and head that way.

  I find him sitting at his desk, nursing a glass of amber liquid. He’s still dressed in his tux, but he’s lost his jacket, and his sleeves are now rolled up to his forearms. He’s sketching something, most likely something for work.

  “What do you want?”

  A tremor rolls down my spine at his deep voice.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Would defeat the whole purpose of a surprise, now, wouldn’t it?” he retorts coldly. It’s a shard of ice to the heart.

  My eyes slam shut, and I shake my head, tentatively stepping over the threshold. “I’m so sorry, Cal. What you did for me tonight… I just… I don’t know what to say other than thank you.”

  He doesn’t respond.

  My eyes burn at the fact that he can’t even look at me.

  “Say something,” I whisper.

  He drops his pencil, his fist curling on his desk. “There’s nothing to say. You saw it, great. That’s all that matters.”

  A tear trickles down my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Callan.”

  “Don’t be. You’ve made yourself quite clear.”

  “Why are you being like this? I made a mistake. And I’m trying to apologize for it.”

  “Yeah, well, you can fuck off with the apology. I don’t need it.”

  Frustration simmers through my veins. “Stop it.”

  “Get out.”

  My hands curl into fists at my sides, and my nails dig into my flesh until my palms sting. “I’m trying to be here for you, Callan. I’m trying to apologize. Why is that not enough for you? After everything you’ve put me through, you owe me this!”

  His eyes shoot up, blazing like coals. “I owe you? I don’t owe you a goddamn thing. I don’t want you to be here for me, don’t you get it?”

  “I don’t understand you. It’s okay for you to treat me like shit for years, but I make one mistake, and I’m the bad guy now?”

  He laughs, pushing away from his desk. “You think you’ve made one mistake? Your entire life has been mistake, after mistake, after mistake, Daisy.”

  I charge him, shoving at his chest as anger courses through my veins. “How dare you? How dare you come back into my life and do this to me again? You have no right to be angry with me. I’ve spent years alone without my best friend, and I forgave you. I forgave you for each mistake. Where has the Callan from the last two months been the past thirteen years, huh? Where were you?” I demand, emotion clogging my throat.

  “You forgave me? You’re so full of shit. You’ve been blaming me for the past thirteen fucking years, Daisy. And I’ve always been here. Always. You were just too blind to see it.”

  My laughter comes out high-pitched and crazy. “On what planet are you living on? You haven’t been there for me a single moment in my life when I needed you, Callan.”

  “I may not have been there to pick up the pieces, but I was there. I was fucking there. Who do you think paid for her funeral? Who do you think has been taking care of your father all these years? Who do you think tried to keep your life together when it was constantly fucking falling apart?”

  My heart stalls.

  My brows pull down.

  I place a trembling hand over my stomach.

  “What are you saying? Dean said he took care of the arrangements for my father and me.”

  He grimaces as though he’s in pain. “Of course, he would. I took care of it. Flew out and stayed at my parents’ house. I watched you with him. I watched you lean on him. I had to watch it all, and I never said a goddamn word. I loved her, too, Daisy. So don’t fucking tell me that I’ve sat back and done nothing.”

  I flinch at the blow of his words.

  My chest quakes.

  It feels like everything is falling apart.

  I swipe at the tears staining my face. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why…why didn’t you reach out to me?”

  “You know why.”

  Anger boils through my veins. “I don’t know! I wish you would just tell me. Can you be honest with me, for once in your goddamn life, Callan? Be honest with me.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “It does! It matters to me.”

  “Why? You were married. Living happily, right? What the fuck does it matter?” he challenges, eyes blazing with a rage and frustration I’m unfamiliar with.

  My lips tremble. “Stop it.”

  “When are you going to realize that this”—he points between us—“is never going to work out the way you want it to? I did you a favor all those years ago.”

  I sniff. “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “You really believe you would’ve chosen him if I hadn’t walked away?”

  His confidence, the surety in his voice makes me angry. How dare he, how dare he hold himself up to such a high standard? What I hate the most is the fact that he’s right. I hate that he knows how deeply my feelings ran for him, even then.

  “I chose Dean, not you.”

  Callan smirks as though he knows better. “You’re fucking fooling yourself if you think for one minute he didn’t know he was your second choice. That he didn’t know you were always in love with someone who wasn’t him.”

  I flinch at the implied accusation. “I did love him!” I yell, tears streaming down my face.

  “But you weren’t in love with him, Daisy, and that was the problem.”

  I shove at his firm chest some more. “Take that back.”

  “No.
” He bypasses me, leaving me behind. It takes me a few seconds to get my legs to move and follow him.

  “Hey! Don’t you walk away from me. I’m talking to you.”

  “And I don’t give a shit,” he calls out over his shoulder.

  I finally catch up to him and grab his forearm, jerking him to a halt. “Don’t just walk away when the going gets tough. We need to talk about this.”

  He disengages my hold from his arm. With an ease that drives me nuts, he slides his hands into his pants pockets. His face is a blank mask, and I hate that. I hate the coldness radiating off him in waves.

  “No, we don’t. I have things to do.”

  “Really?” I can’t hide the disbelief in my tone. “Your schedule looked awfully clear to me.”

  His lips thin. “You’re my assistant. You don’t know everything I do. I run a fucking business. A weekend doesn’t change that.”

  I withdraw, my chest squeezing painfully. “Just your assistant. Right.”

  “Is there a problem?” He quirks a brow. It’s as though he’s a completely different person. In a matter of seconds, he’s managed to get rid of all his anger and frustration, and instead, he’s reverted to his cold façade. The Callan I despised when I started working for him.

  “Is that all I really am to you?”

  “What more do you want to be?” He shrugs. “You said it yourself, you chose someone else all those years ago. That has to mean something, right? Let’s call it like it is. I fuck you over the desk in your office and my office every so often. That isn’t unheard of.”

  His words are a perfectly placed dart to the chest. My eyes narrow as I take him in. He’s tense, the muscle in his jaw is ticking, but other than that, he remains aloof. He’s purposely trying to piss me off, purposely trying to hurt me.

  “What are you doing, Callan?”

  “Answering your questions,” he replies dryly, frustrating me to no end.

  “You know what I mean. Why are you being like this?”

  “Because this won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you settle, Daisy. You always settle for less. I thought by now that would’ve at least changed.”