Sometimes Moments (Sometimes Moments, #1)(13)

By the time Peyton had brought a notepad and a pencil to the cliff, it was just after eleven a.m. She sat near the edge as she thought about how to make the Reynolds’ wedding memorable. As she did a sweep of the horizon, her eyes landed on the pier, then the small feeding bridge, then the middle of the lake, and an idea sparked.

A floating dance floor!

Just as she started to draw the lake on the piece of paper, she heard the sound of leaves crunching. Turning her head, she saw Callum standing just next to the path outside of the hotel, looking at her. He didn’t say anything. His eyes were on hers as if he were waiting for the go-ahead to approach her. Without a word, Peyton turned her attention back to the lake and then continued the drawing she had started.

She didn’t hear him leave, so she assumed that he was still standing there. She fought an internal battle with herself over whether or not to invite him to sit with her. The memory of their last night together had barely left her—as much as she’d tried to forget.

You never forget the first and last time you have sex.

After drawing a rectangle to symbolise the pier, Peyton sighed and placed the notepad down.

“What do you want, Callum? I’m busy,” she said, not looking over her shoulder.

She heard nothing but the sound of the ducks quacking in the distance. But just as she started to relax, she heard his footsteps and let out a groan. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he sat down next to her. Not what she wanted.

“I want your forgiveness, Peyton. I made that clear last night before you called me a bastard and slammed the door.”

Her nostrils flared. He didn’t get it, and it made the anger rise in her throat. Peyton took a deep breath and said, “Self-righteous bastard,” correcting him.

Turning her head, she saw him staring out at the lake in the direction of the trees just near the boathouse—the exact area where they’d spent their last night together tangled under a blanket after what she believed had been a passionate memory they shared together.

“Why can’t you give me your forgiveness, Peyton?” he asked, still staring out at the trees.

“Because you don’t deserve it,” she stated. It was no lie.

Callum looked down at his hands. “I know I don’t. But I want to earn it. I want to redeem myself,” he said before he faced her.

The vulnerability in his eyes had her wall strengthening. No. She would not break for him. He had already broken her before. She wasn’t willing to go for round two.

“Well, you can’t, Callum. Let it go. Just go back to the city already.” Peyton collected her notebook and pencil and stood up.

“But why can’t I redeem myself?”

The begging in his voice had her throat straining. Heat overtook her body. Not something she wanted either.

“The fact that you just asked me proves that you can never redeem yourself to me. Go home, Callum. Stay in the city until you have to be at your best friend’s wedding.” Her eyes never left his.

“But—”

“But nothing. Nothing you say or do will ever be redeeming in my book. Redemption is just something you don’t deserve.”

“Peyton,” he tried.

“Go f*ck yourself, Callum,” Peyton snarled over her shoulder as she stormed back to the hotel.

Sometimes the F-word is necessary.





Floating dance floor.

Peyton rubbed out the penciled design of the floating dance floor. It wasn’t a stupid idea; it just wasn’t very smart. There was a lot to consider: whether the dock would be bracketed onto a pier or if it would freely float. There was also insurance; no doubt someone would fall off, so clauses and waivers would have to be drawn. It involved a lot of risk management, and in the end, Peyton decided against the idea. Instead, she’d figure out another ‘wow’ that was cemented to the ground, avoiding the possibility of drowning her guests.

Letting out a sigh, she screwed up her grade-three kind of diagram of the lake and placed it at arm’s length from her. While she was rummaging through piles of paper to her left, she spotted the wedding menu Marissa had emailed her that morning. Once she’d gotten into her office, she’d printed the menu and the groom’s guest list and walked to the pub. She’d been tired of the silence that engulfed The Spencer-Dayle. She’d needed to hear more than just her own voice. And when she’d noticed Callum’s name on the groom’s guest list, Peyton had wanted to throw the glass vase that was to her right.

She didn’t want him back in her town. He had run off and made the city his home. It had been two days since he’d asked for her forgiveness, and during those two nights, Peyton had stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, wishing that God hadn’t put him back on her path. He had already taken so much. She didn’t want anything more than to live a simple life.

Shaking her mind to clear the thoughts of him, she picked up the menu.

You don’t owe Callum Reid anything, Peyton.

“What did I tell you, Peyton? Can you help me out here? Just once, I want to see your beautiful face in this establishment without some kind of paperwork in your hands. I run a pub.”

Peyton looked up from the wedding menu and rolled her eyes at Jay.

“Darling, I’m pretty sure that hotel of yours has an office,” Jay stated as he picked up her empty glass.