CHAPTER FIVE

Callum left the office earlier than usual. The drive to his mother’s house took nearly an hour in the evening traffic. He kept one hand on the wheel of his black Mercedes, the engine purring smoothly beneath him. The car was luxurious without being flashy — soft leather seats, tinted windows, the kind of quiet power that matched the life he lived. Outside, the sky was turning that deep orange-pink that only happened in the city at this time of year. The road stretched ahead, lined with tall buildings giving way to wider streets and gated neighborhoods as he got closer to the upscale part of town where his mother lived.

His mind kept drifting. Elena Blackwood was not the type to let things go. She had always been resilient, even after his father passed away five years ago. She ran her own social circle with the same sharp efficiency she expected from everyone else. She cared about him deeply — that much he knew. But she also believed she knew what was best for the family name. And she had never been subtle about it. He loved her for the way she had held everything together after his father’s death, for the way she still sent him articles about business or called just to check if he was eating properly. But she didn’t control him. She never had. He made his own decisions.

The car turned onto the familiar tree-lined street. The houses here were large, set back from the road with wide lawns and tall gates. His mother’s home was one of the grandest — white stone, sweeping driveway, perfectly manicured gardens that looked like they belonged in a magazine. A servant in a crisp uniform stepped forward as soon as the car stopped. He opened the door for Callum with a small bow.

“Welcome, Mr. Blackwood. Your mother is expecting you.”

Callum nodded and stepped out. The evening air was cooler here, carrying the faint scent of roses from the garden. He walked up the wide stone steps and into the house. The interior was exactly as he remembered — high ceilings, polished marble floors, expensive art on the walls, fresh flowers on every surface. It smelled like home. Like money that had been there for generations.

“Mom?” he called out.

Elena Blackwood appeared from the living room almost immediately. She was in her late sixties but carried herself like someone much younger — elegant dress, perfectly styled hair, sharp eyes that missed nothing. She smiled when she saw him, but there was a hint of reproach in it.

“Callum. You have been avoiding your own mother. If I cannot get through to you, then who can?”

He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. She smelled like the same perfume she had worn for thirty years. “I’m sorry. Work has been busy. You know how it is.”

She pulled back and waved the excuse away with a flick of her hand. “Busy. Everyone is busy. But family is family.” She linked her arm through his and led him toward the living room. “Come sit. We have a lot to catch up on.”

They talked for a while in the living room. Easy, familiar conversation. She asked about the company, about a recent deal she had read about in the papers. He told her the basics, keeping the details light. She told him about her garden club and a charity event she was planning. It felt familiar and comfortable. She was his mother and he cared about her deeply.

After a while she stood up. “We are not eating at home tonight. I want to go out. I hope you made a reservation like I asked.”

“I did,” he said. “The usual place.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Let’s go then. I’ll have the chauffeur bring the car around.”

They stepped outside. A black town car waited in the driveway. The chauffeur opened the door for them. Callum helped his mother in, then slid in beside her. The car pulled smoothly away from the house.

The restaurant was one of the quiet, expensive ones they had been going to for years. White tablecloths, soft lighting, attentive waiters who knew them by name. They were seated at a private table near the window. Elena ordered wine and looked at her son across the table.

“I have someone I want you to meet,” she said, getting straight to it. “Evelyn’s daughter is back from London. Lovely girl. From a very prominent family. She would be good for you.”

Callum took a sip of water. “Mom. I’m not interested.”

She waved her hand. “You haven’t even met her. I have her picture here.” She pulled out her phone and showed him a photo of a polished young woman smiling at a gala. “See? Beautiful. Smart. She understands this world.”

Callum looked at the photo for a polite second, then looked away. “I’m still interested in Mia.”

His mother’s expression changed. “How can you still be interested in her? I thought you two were done. She left you, Callum. She couldn’t handle your life.”

He kept his voice even. “She left because I was doing too much. Not because she couldn’t handle it.”

Elena sighed. “Even if that is true, you need someone who fits. Someone who can stand beside you without running away when things get serious. Since your father isn’t here anymore, I just want to see you settled. Happy. With the right person.”

Callum stayed quiet for a moment. He didn’t want to hurt her. “I know you want that. But I’m not interested in anyone else right now.”

His mother reached across the table and patted his hand. “Just think about it. I’ll arrange a meeting. You don’t have to decide tonight. But you must come. For me.”

He nodded once. He wasn’t going to argue with her. Not here. Not tonight. But in his mind he already knew what he was going to do. He was going back to the apartment. Back to Mia. That was where he wanted to be.

The rest of dinner passed with lighter. But the undercurrent remained. Elena Blackwood had made up her mind. And she rarely changed it.

When the chauffeur drove them back to the house later that evening, Callum kissed his mother on the cheek and promised to call her soon. He got into his own car and headed back toward Mia’s apartment. The drive felt longer this time. His thoughts kept circling back to the conversation. To Mia. He knew he was pushing. He knew it was the exact thing that had made her leave the first time. But he couldn’t stop himself. He cared too much. He wanted her too much.

The city lights blurred past the windows. He tightened his grip on the wheel. He would go home — to her apartment. He would give her space. But he wasn’t leaving. Not yet. Not until she told him to. And even then, he wasn’t sure he could.

Mia got home later than usual. The day at the studio had been good, but she was tired. She dropped her bag by the door and kicked off her shoes. The apartment was quiet. She walked into the kitchen, thinking about what she could piece together for dinner. She had told herself she would stop for groceries on the way home, but the day had gotten away from her again.

She opened the fridge and stopped.

It was full. Fresh fruit in the drawers, vegetables, the exact yogurt she liked, eggs, bread, milk. The pantry had been restocked too — pasta, rice, the spices she was running low on. Everything she had mentally noted she needed to buy but never got around to. It was all there, neatly arranged like someone had been paying attention.

She stood there for a long moment, hand still on the fridge door.

The front door opened. Callum walked in. He saw her standing in the kitchen and paused.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re home.”

Mia closed the fridge. She turned to face him. “You stocked the groceries.”

He set his keys on the counter. “Yeah. I noticed you were low on a few things.”

She crossed her arms. “Callum… you can’t keep doing this.”

He stayed where he was, giving her space but not leaving the room. “Doing what?”

“Fixing things. Taking care of everything before I even ask. I left because I felt like I couldn’t breathe on my own. Like every time I tried to handle something, you were already three steps ahead doing it for me.”

Callum listened. He didn’t interrupt. He just looked at her, steady and quiet.

“I know you have good intentions,” she continued, voice soft but steady. “I’ve never taken it for granted. The coffee in the morning, the texts to check on me, now the groceries. I know these are normal things people do. But the moment we’re not together and I took space from you because I wanted to feel like myself again… you still do it. You still feel the need to come to my rescue every time. I got so used to you always taking care of everything for me that I didn’t know how to do things for myself anymore. I didn’t know how to be myself anymore.”

He stayed quiet for a moment after she finished. Then he spoke, low and careful. “I understand. I’m really sorry that I made you feel like that. That I’ve been too much for you. I didn’t see it that way. I just… I see what you need and I want to make it easier. That’s how I show I care.”

Mia looked at him. “I know that’s how you show it. But I need to do these things myself. I need to build my own life. My job. My routines. I need to know I can stand on my own without someone always smoothing the path for me.”

Callum nodded slowly. “I hear you. I do.” He glanced at the fridge. “The groceries… I figured since I would also be here, I would stock the fridge with things for both of us. Not just for your sake. For mine too. But I get it. I’ll try to pull back on that.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. The kitchen felt small with both of them in it. The conversation hung between them, unfinished but honest.

After a while Mia turned toward the counter. “I’m going to make dinner. Since you bought the groceries… we could eat together. If you want.”

Callum’s expression softened. “I’d like that.”

She started pulling things out — pasta, vegetables, chicken. Callum moved to help without being asked, chopping vegetables beside her. They worked quietly at first. The tension from earlier eased a little as they moved around each other in the small kitchen. It felt familiar. Easy.

When the food was ready they sat at the small dining table. The pasta smelled good. Steam rose from the plates.

“This is nice,” Callum said after a few bites. “You always were a good cook.”

Mia smiled a little. “I had to learn after I moved out on my own. It’s not as good as the places you used to take me to.”

“No, this is definitely better.” Callum replied.

Mia looked away from him and stared down at her plate. A blush staining her cheeks. “You’re just saying that.”

They talked about small things at first. How her day at the studio went. A project she was excited about. Callum told her a little about his meeting, keeping it light. The conversation moved naturally from there — a funny story about a client at her studio, something that happened with Jax at his office. They both noticed how easy it was to fall back into this. The comfort. The way they could talk without forcing it.

Mia took another bite. “It’s strange. Having you here. But also… not as bad as I thought it would be.”

Callum felt a wave of relief and warmth spread through his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he had been waiting for her to say something like that. He looked at her across the table, the soft light from the lamp catching in her dark hair.

They kept eating. The conversation stayed easy.