Such Big News
She nodded, exhaling shakily. "It wasn't supposed to be serious. Just casual. But then feelings got involved, and now there's this. And he's pulling away, I know he's protecting himself or something—but it hurts. And I'm scared, Remi."
I could see the fear and hurt in her eyes. Oh Jo. It reminded me of when I found out I was pregnant. It wasn't an easy feeling knowing support is no where to be found.
I pulled her into a tight hug, feeling her trembling slightly against me. "We will sort it out. I promise you that. We will.”
Jo sniffed quietly, pulling back from our embrace. Her eyes were red-rimmed but clearer now, the tension gradually easing from her shoulders.
“Do you want to figure out a plan?” I asked softly. “A way to tell Callum?”
She shook her head immediately. “Not really. I mean, how do you even approach someone you barely know and say, ‘Hey, remember that one night we spent together? Well, surprise!’” Her laugh was humorless, edged with anxiety.
“So it was just one night?” I asked gently, careful not to push too hard.
She sighed, crossing her arms protectively around herself. “Yeah. We ran into each other at that charity gala Rowan hosted a couple months ago. Callum was there working security, and I was bored out of my mind. We talked, flirted a little—well, more than a little—and ended up together. I never intended for things to get messy. But now…” She trailed off helplessly, motioning to herself. “Messy is an understatement.”
I squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We’ll figure this out, Jo. Messy or not, you don’t have to do it alone.”
She smiled softly, gratitude clear in her expression. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Before I could respond, the sudden sound of something metallic crashing to the floor echoed loudly from downstairs, followed by muffled giggles.
We exchanged startled looks, and Jo rolled her eyes with a soft laugh. “Sounds like trouble.”
“Always is, around here,” I replied, smiling despite myself. “Come on.”
We made our way downstairs, following the rising sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. The smell of something smoky reached us first—then the sight: Rowan stood at the stove, frowning intently at a pan that was releasing alarming amounts of smoke. Pancake batter was smeared across the counter, and an overturned pot lay forgotten on the floor.
Larry and Laura stood nearby, giggling helplessly at Rowan’s obvious struggle. Their little faces were flushed with delight at seeing the usually composed Rowan looking thoroughly frazzled.
Callum leaned against the far counter, arms folded across his chest. The moment he spotted Jo entering the room, his entire posture tensed noticeably. His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening subtly as he quickly shifted his gaze away.
Jo froze briefly beside me, the tension returning immediately to her shoulders. She deliberately avoided Callum’s gaze, instead choosing to smile warmly at the twins. “Looks like someone’s cooking up trouble.”
Laura burst into a fresh round of giggles. “Handsome Uncle tried to make pancakes, but he burned them!”
Larry sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “He tried to flip one, and it got stuck on the ceiling!”
Rowan flushed slightly, turning to face us with an embarrassed expression. “They’re exaggerating,” he said stiffly, the edge of his mouth twitching slightly. “It was only half a pancake.”
I laughed softly, stepping further into the kitchen to inspect the damage. “Maybe cooking should stay off your list of talents.”
“I’ve managed mergers worth billions,” Rowan muttered dryly, scraping the charred remains from the pan. “Pancakes should not be this difficult.”
“Clearly,” I teased gently, nudging him aside. “Step away from the stove, Rowan, before you set the house on fire.”
He sighed heavily, stepping back as I effortlessly took control of the chaos. Larry and Laura cheered loudly as I poured a new batch of batter, the kitchen quickly filled with warmth and laughter again.
While I cooked, I stole a glance at Callum and Jo. They stood on opposite ends of the room, quietly avoiding each other’s gaze. The tension between them was like the fire underneath this pot heavy enough that even the twins seemed to sense something was off.
Rowan noticed too, raising an eyebrow subtly in my direction, but I shook my head gently, signaling him not to press. Not yet, anyway.
Brunch was quickly salvaged, pancakes flipped onto plates with practiced ease. Jo busied herself with setting the table, still carefully avoiding Callum’s tense presence, while he focused pointedly on the garden view outside the window.
The twins soon forgot the awkwardness entirely, chattering excitedly about their plans for the day. Larry began outlining an ambitious adventure involving Rowan, his favorite superhero figurines, and a fortress built from couch cushions.
Rowan looked mildly alarmed by the scope of Larry’s plan, shooting me a pleading glance for help.
“You can handle it,” I teased lightly. “It can’t be harder than pancakes.”
He groaned softly but nodded in reluctant agreement. “Fine. But I’m drawing the line at wearing a cape.”
The kids erupted into delighted laughter, immediately dragging Rowan out of his seat to begin their conquest of the living room.
With them gone, an awkward silence quickly fell over the kitchen again, the quiet broken only by the soft clink of dishes as Jo gathered plates.
I stepped closer to Callum, my voice low enough that Jo wouldn’t overhear. “Is everything okay between you two?”
He hesitated, glancing at me briefly before looking away. “It’s… complicated.”
I nodded slowly, respecting the careful boundaries he was clearly trying to maintain. “If you need to talk—”
“I appreciate it, Dr. Laurent,” he interrupted quietly, formal again. “But there’s nothing to talk about.”
He stepped back sharply, moving away before I could respond further. Jo watched him leave, her eyes shadowed with sadness and uncertainty, her shoulders slumped.
I sighed softly, feeling the weight of their unspoken tension pressing heavily in my chest. It seemed like every corner of our lives was tangled in complications and hidden pain. But right now, it wasn’t something I could fix for them.
At least, not yet.
Jo met my eyes briefly, offering a weak, reassuring smile. “I’m okay,” she mouthed silently.
I nodded slightly, understanding she needed space, and turned away to follow Rowan and the kids.
But as I stepped out of the kitchen, my thoughts once again drifted back to the photograph hidden safely in my pocket.
Its haunting familiarity still disturbed me, bringing with it questions I couldn’t yet answer.
Everything felt unsteady, the ground beneath us fragile, uncertain. But I pushed it down for now, determined to hold on to the small pockets of joy and normalcy we could create in moments like these.
Behind me,
Jo quietly finished stacking the plates, the silence echoing louder than any words could.
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