Darling, So It Goes (Callum)

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Kat took a quick sip of water (making a mental note to get herself something stronger later) before she picked up the black hem of her dress and stepped onto the small raised platform overlooking the dance floor. Her guitar was tuned and she’d clipped on the capo on its first fret – she was pretty much ready to go whenever the newlyweds were. A small number of party guests turned polite gazes towards her and she quickly stamped down on the nervousness threatening to creep in. Kat barely knew anybody here. While she waited, Kat turned on the stage to face the instruments behind her. Her wand arm hovered over them, double-checking her earlier cast spells.

This was a rather complex bit of magic she’d had to practice with the help of one of her more proficient bandmates. Thankfully she stuck with it and in true Ravenclaw fashion, she was rather confident she could pull it off in front of an actual crowd of strangers. Somehow, standing on a much smaller, intimate stage surrounded by a much smaller number of faces than she usually played for shouldn’t have made her nervous at all – but she never played weddings and, more importantly, she didn’t have her usual friendly faces to smile at that knew her in the crowd, except the bride. Abigail Summers was still the same sweet witch she’d studied with at Hogwarts over 15 years ago.

Though she was never as close to her as the lot over at the designated Hogwarts table (Kat decided she’d rather sit at the freakish tree bar once she finished her set), or even close enough to get in the habit of calling her by her nickname “Abby” (though Kat was way more socially awkward then than now, thank Merlin), Abigail was the sort of witch who just got on with both the popular crowd and the misfits. She would send Kat a Christmas postcard every year, and would genuinely be interested in knowing what was new with her. Kat perhaps was not as easily affectionate, but she kept every postcard in a shoebox tucked underneath her bed. Her last postcard came with her wedding invite, and she’d RSVP-ed without a moment’s hesitation, all the while praying her partner deserved her.

All at once, the greenhouse erupted into loud applause and guests rose to their feet while the DJ pointed his wand tip to his throat and introduced the happy couple in his magically booming voice as bride and groom practically bounced their way down the hall leading to the dance floor. “Let’s give it up for the bride, the groom, and their first dance as a newlywed couple!”

Kat ducked under her guitar strap and leaned up against the muggle microphone in its stand. When Kat had asked, she promised herself she would learn it, live it, love it, and play it no matter which song Abigail requested.

As the couple moved to the center of the dodgy-looking dance floor that spun on its own, the lights in every part of the greenhouse dimmed except for the sunburst light fixture directly above the couple, gleaming like a star, and the floating, flickering candles that framed Kat on stage.

Abigail, looking as gorgeous as she was a person to Kat and likely every single soul under this roof, sneaked a quick peek over her shoulder and beamed at Kat. Her lips curved reflexively in return and she winked back at her.

Kat looked out into the crowd as her fingers plucked out the first chords of Can't Help Falling In Love. Kat should have known Abigail would have picked a cheesy one – but with all the love she had for the witch, and like the goddamn professional she was, she would perform her little fucking heart out for her, and herself. The music filled the room with the help of magic, the greenhouse acoustics sharply carrying her slow and steady finger-picking, soon to be followed by her voice. Kat leaned forward, breathing once before she crooned softly, tenderly, into the mic. Her voice was deeper now and she’d trained with a vocal coach to refine her style which was now surprisingly soulful. Its echoing bounced off the high glass ceilings nostalgically as she sang for the slowly spinning couple.

Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?
Would it be a sin?
If I can't help falling in love with you

Like a river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes
Some things are meant to be

At this point, her spell kicked in and the violins behind her rose on their own, bows gliding smoothly over strings, following her violinist bandmate’s directions to produce a rather lovely soothing background to her guitar and vocals. Kat couldn't help her smile, quite chuffed her performance was what she wanted for Abigail.

The shutter clicked, chirping with the quad of levitating cameras capturing the incandescent wedding scene. Comfortably positioned out of the way, Callum held his favorite Nikon up to entrap the hazy beauty of the bride's radiant happiness. Such joy the former Ravenclaw could see through the lens of his art, his hard-lived work.

The corners of his somber mouth lifted despite his own reservation to be enchanted. His own wedding had been a hurried affair, the rush at an embassy adding to the thrill of the short-lived marriage. His detachment to feelings involved with its end had been a constant topic for his therapist, but now Callum wondered what would be said at the tugging of his heartstrings at seeing his former classmate's dream of a wedding.

Employing a little swift magic, Callum repositioned the cameras the capture the new married couple's entrance. While much of his career had been spent around muggles, Callum always enjoyed the smart work of magic, but other than daily convenience, magic was not a part of his life. His ex-wife a Muggle, he had yet to even tell their four-year-old daughter about the existence of wizards and Hogwarts. In his mind, he had a safe six or seven years before he had to worry about Copper and an owl arriving with news he as a father dreaded. His non-Muggle therapist loved that subject and why he would fear his child would be a witch.

Perhaps the life-defining event he was witnessing was triggering introspective into his own issues, but Callum paid very little attention to anyone but the wedding party. With the movement of magic and lens, he found he could ignore most of the guests. He didn't want to be sucked into the crowd, happier to have volunteered his services to avoid awkward reunions. He hadn't kept in touch at all and this wedding had a double purpose. If he could settle down and find a purpose in this type of work, he could move to a peaceful village and provide the right home for his daughter. To which the restlessness inside of Callum laughed, knowing the trial of staying in one place.

Focused on the bride and groom, Callum pushed his glasses a little higher on his nose. Grey eyes squinting, attention caught by a blast of red hair out of the corner of his framed up shot. The shot blurred, the camera shifting quickly to find and follow the trigger of color in his memory. As the melodic sounds filled the reception, Callum lowered his camera and stared at the woman on stage. Heat bled under the loosened collar of his pale green button down, suddenly too hot even with the sleeves of his corduroy blazer rolled up. Ignoring the sensations of seeing a former flame, Callum remembered his purpose and framed up the shot of his ex-housemate on stage. The flame of her hair in the light, perfectly imprisoned in a few swift clicks.

As the song began, Callum carefully kept to the shadows and moved nearer to the stage. While his entourage of magical photography equipment captured the new couple, he couldn't help himself but take more of the musician. What was he feeling? Callum pretended to feel nothing, even as he indulged in taking Kat's photograph and hoping she didn't notice him from her perch.

So take my hand
Take my whole life, too
For I can't help falling in love with you

She was pleased to see the couple were holding a meaningful, steady gaze with each other, their eyes saying more with this one look than a thousand words ever could. They were the only two people in the room right now. Kat glanced back down as her finger-picking slowed and her mouth hovered near the mic one last time, singing.

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Her lips were still rounding around the word ‘you’ when she lifted her gaze and their eyes met. How Kat managed to keep her gaze steady when the sight of him had just cleaned the air right out of her lungs, she would never know.

She waited until the very kind and numbered applause tapered off, bowing her head graciously to the retreating couple, before she very quickly swept off the stage, dress billowing behind her. She skirted determinedly around the back, on a straight path to the man with the camera. She had to see for herself, make sure she wasn’t seeing things. Fifteen years was a hell of a long time after all. Finally she joined him in the shadows, and was actually staring into the face of Callum Arden, a touch breathless.

Kat recognized it as happiness and softened her face, her red-lipped smile, although reservations remained firmly in place. Callum may have been someone she used to know, but it did not mean she knew the man before her now. Regardless, she could appreciate his familiar, handsome face, especially in a place where she hadn’t yet run into anyone else she knew.

She honest-to-Merlin had no idea what to say now that she was standing in front of him. “Hi” was the obvious contender, but seemed to her to fall too short. She only had about a million questions running through her head and not enough time to ask them all. She looked at the impressive camera in his hands. He was obviously working the wedding, same as she.

Kat started, briefly forgetting herself. She had to go back on stage. She had to make her intentions clear before things turned awkward between them. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said finally, lightly touching her fingers to his wrist, not quite closing around it, but trying for warm and casual. “Let’s talk after my set. Two songs. There’s a bar under the Willow tree in the back.” She’d posed it as a question, but barely waited for an answer before she withdrew her hand and turned her back to him, bounding back in the direction of the stage.

She was definitely happy on the surface. She didn’t dare dive any further than that at the moment. They’d had a complicated past which came with complicated emotions. Simply accepting that as a simple truth was enough for her.

Callum said nothing, and was very aware that he said nothing. Time moved far too slowly and fast at once, seeming to churn to quicksand for him. Oh, he was aware, just as he was that his mouth opened and no words came out when she touched his wrist. Clinging to his camera, Callum felt his inner self cower behind it on the inside. He had put no thought into preparing for anyone he might see at the wedding, realizing now his foolishness for what would have occurred to all other people.

Before he could find the words, Kat was back on stage, and Callum was left with the odd sensation of being seventeen all over again. A strained sound escaped, clearing his throat as he remembered his purpose. Right, taking shots of the wedding, focus. Almost an impossibility with the countdown she had given now playing in his head. He adjusted his glasses before photos, taking a moment to find the way to the meeting spot. After spending the final chorus debating whether or not to meet the other former Ravenclaw, Callum checked on the charms on his levitating cameras before taking a break. The limp in his right leg slightly noticeable as he made his exit.

"Club soda, double limes," he ordered, setting his Nikon on the bar as he leaned in to wait. Callum tried to ignore the nervous twitch in his old injury, weighing the option to cut and run. He could spend the rest of the wedding avoiding this particular reunion and all the complicated feelings attached to it. There was an inevitable reaction when he and Kat were left alone, one he couldn't control, one that made him always keep her at a distance. A very singular experience for his life, certainly.

Kat finished her set gladly. She never played weddings and wasn’t sure if she would again were it not for a friend. The experience had been lovely enough, but there was just something about playing for a crowd that wasn’t hers, for lack of a better phrase, that put her on edge. Or maybe it had been seeing the face of her former tumultuous flame in the crowd. Kat resisted the urge to snort as she gathered her instruments with a flick of her wand. She could be honest now – she knew the turbulence that had rattled them to their core during their time together had her name written all over it. At least, that’s how she remembered it. Like a certain literary pair of star-crossed lovers, gunpowder and fire, they had consumed each other as they kissed.

Was she feeling guilty? She supposed she could pick strong traces of it from the concoction of emotions brewing within her. Hell, reunions could be awkward, and she had a fantastic track record of being awkward, flighty, and unpredictable with this particular Ravenclaw. Even the sound of his name made her feel all sorts of odd ways, like she was remembering a ghost. Kat smirked humorlessly. He’d looked like he’d seen a ghost, even as she was standing before him, and especially when she’d touched him.

As Kat magicked her equipment to a safe place, she wondered if this was a smart idea after all. It’s not that she didn’t think he wouldn’t show up (had that been presumptuous of her?) but he hadn’t actually said a word, had he? What could be going through that head of his, she very much wondered. She wasn’t in the business of breaking hearts anymore, if she could even call what she did to Callum that. What Callum and she’d had was not the easiest... thing to define even 15 years later, but she also wasn’t in the business of complicating matters in her current life.

It was about 9 pm. The glass ceilings showed a sky outside that wasn’t plunged in full darkness yet but was already dotted with stars and a bright coin-sized moon. The DJ had started with his set, magically amplified music filling the space. Kat could feel familiar synths thumping in her sternum – she recognized the popular witch artist singing about a good time gone too far. The bar was packed now that the celebrations were fully underway. She could see people filtering in and out from between the Willow’s leaves, the din of wedding guests laughing and talking all around her as she made her way there.

Being inside the canopy of a Weeping Willow was something else. Immediately the effect was cozy intimate. Kat couldn’t help but pause to turn in place as she admired her surroundings. She had to wonder about the magic involved in creating a space that seemed almost entirely separate from the space just outside the tree’s curtains. The lights were dimmer, the music softer, and the air cooler, as opposed to the warmer summer air throughout the rest of the greenhouse. No expenses spared for the love of John’s life (Abby's beau), it seemed.

Kat subconsciously smoothed down the sides of her dress when she spotted Callum leaning against the bar top. Her heart was pounding. She might have armed herself with some nonchalant airs when she appeared suddenly beside him, leaning over to catch the barkeep’s eye and beckon him over with a coy smile that might seem most un-Kat-like to some people from her past. He was busy but came over at once.

“What can I get for you, love?”

“Single malt scotch, please.”

He fixed her a double with some fancy wand work right where she could see. Instead of sliding the glass to her with a simple spell, he held it so she’d take it from his hand. Sure enough once she did, his eyes combed over her and he offered her a much-too-charming smile. “You were the one playing just now, weren’t you? I thought I saw you set up earlier. You’ve got the looks too. Blimey.”

Kat hesitated to call herself vain, but she did notice how it became more frequent to be on the receiving end of this kind of attention when her hair was styled and she was dressed to the nines. This was perhaps one of the more noteworthy changes about her since her teenage years in Hogwarts. She cleaned up well and more often, and she’d learned to accept she didn’t want to be invisible. In fact, she was beginning to learn she wanted to radiate, even if it meant dealing with too-friendly barkeeps from time to time. It had taken her a long time to feel comfortable in her own skin (especially after Tony) and she’d be damned if wearing a pretty dress would trigger her self-loathing anymore. If that made her vain, then she guessed she was vain.

So Kat smiled one last time, took a large sip of her drink and leaned back away from the bar with a simple “that’s kind of you” and pointedly turned to face the man she was actually there to chat with. He must have taken the hint because he soon returned to tending the rest of the bustling bar.

“Hi,” she said finally, emphatically, a hint of a chuckle at the belated greeting. He looked far too serious. She’d like to get him out of his head, or at least get herself in it so as to understand. It was much better to follow his pace right now—take their time. The last thing she wanted was to risk steamrolling him, a bad habit she considered well behind her. But these were uncharted waters they found themselves in, and old habits die hard.

“Tell me how I’m standing here next to you right now because I still can’t believe it.” Kat was slowly shaking her head, curiosity (and whiskey) bright in her eyes as she looked him down, stirring the straw in her drink before capturing it between her teeth. She yearned to hear his voice.

It occurred to Callum about two seconds too late that he should have ordered Kat a drink. That would have been the normal, socially acceptable thing to do, right? For the life of him, Callum wouldn't have remembered her beverage of choice. He'd always been bad at most details, fixating on the random ones that peaked his interest. It had driven his ex-wife nuts when he couldn't remember little things like her hatred of onions or favorite color, but he could recall all of those same queries for his daughter. Clearly his participation as father was better than a husband.

"'ello," he responded, his throat drying to the tone of the Sahara. More focused on the lazy circle of the straw, the lift of it to her sultry lips with the beckoning of a smile. Reaching for his drink, Callum's fingers played on the frosty glass. His grip loose around it, not tasting it to relieve his parched throat. Listening to her voice, the sensual cadence throwing him right back to the tumultuous teenage years.

Now he was supposed to say something clever...

Callum dipped his head, tearing his gaze away from the tiny straw and her tempting mouth. "'Of all the gin joints in all the towns...'" He quoted, not bothering to even try a Bogart impression. He smiled down at his drink before finally taking a taste. "It's a surprise, though I suppose it shouldn't be since we did have the same classmates."

Did he just quote Casablanca at her? Granted, it was a damn good line. “I’m glad some things haven’t changed. I’d miss dorky Callum if he were gone for good,” she teased, resisting the urge to bump his shoulder with hers. She wondered if he was indeed pleased to see her. She had to admit he was hard as hell to read and wasn’t nearly as chatty as she was. Or was she maybe talking too much? She did that when her nerves were running wild.

Kat then sobered up a touch and turned herself again to face the bar, trying to match his slightly somber demeanor from before. She stirred the last dregs of scotch in her glass coolly. “Well, we could always walk away from each other, if you prefer, pretend you never saw me and I never saw you.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, before cracking a smile and this time actually closing the distance between them, the curve of her left shoulder and hip lightly bouncing off his in jest. She had way too much restless energy being this close to him and had decided to give in, just a little, to the intoxicating nearness that would not stop tempting her.

Kat conveniently forgot to move away when she turned back around to face him. Where another person could have easily fit between them before, Kat now occupied the space boldly. She lazily looped one hand around the back of her neck to sweep her whip of red hair over her shoulder, and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. Before saying anything, she delighted in the heat coming from Callum’s body, driving her to down the remnants of her scotch and carefully place the glass aside without looking. Then she gingerly reached for his face with her hands, fought the strong desire to lay them on his prickly looking stubble, and instead found his glasses. She didn’t pluck them from his face because that seemed too rude, even for gutsy Kat—she did, however, allow herself to run her fingers along the temples of the rectangular frames, as close as she was gonna get to touching that handsome face of his.

And finally she said, “They suit you, Callum. Make you look... I don’t know, accomplished.” She laughed then, softly, since she was still very, very close to him. “What else is new with you, Arden?” she continued in a hushed tone.

Hopelessly out of practice, Callum set his camera safely aside on the bar, using the distraction as an excuse for a growing smile to be his only response to her offer. He doubted she was at all serious, though in reality he supposed that could still be an option for them both. Kat was happy to see him, which he found more than a little reliefing considering their history.

In and out of each other's lives, tempestuous and heady as a thunderstorm in summer. Callum was glad she seemed attuned to fond memories, not the lack of stability. Another one of his ex-wife's grievances with him, his failure to provide daily stability. Something he was attempting to correct in his thirties. In the last two months, he'd met with more congenial estate agents in more green and pleasant counties and seen enough cottages to last a lifetime. He'd even entertained the idea of taking Copper back to his original home of Wales, but than veered on punishment.

Callum turned, freezing as the tip of Kat's finger stroked the egde of his glasses. Eyewear was slightly redundant for a wizard, but he preferred them for his professional craft. Heat simmered on the back of his neck, possibly giving away a tale-tell flushed color. Every inch of his body keenly aware of Kat's closeness, near enough to catch the mix of natural scent and perfume. All the different parts of a woman's essence, the blend of shampoo, cosmetics, and sweat.

"Accomplishing myself, I guess," he replied, when she asked him of his whereabouts in life. Callum lifted his shoulders, breaking the tie of her finger to his glasses. "I traveled for a long time, made a living doing something I enjoy, and the years have been as good to me as anyone."

He looked down, breaking contact with the intensity of her eyes. The melting cubes in his club soda delicately clinked in the gentle swirl of his hand. "I have a daughter. She's four years old."

When Callum shrugged her away, Kat gracefully returned her hands to her sides and replaced the distance between them, sentimentality cooling its engines. She realized he was still nervous around her, not yet accustomed to her, or perhaps even regarding her as a stranger who was being too familiar with him. She nursed her empty glass (and lightly bruised ego), considered the possibility Callum did not remember her fondly on his end. After all, hadn’t she been the only one thus far to voice her pleasure at seeing him? Had she been inadvertently callous this whole time when she was trying to be nice?

Ugh, she was tired of all this second-guessing—it most certainly wasn’t like her. At least not anymore. Kat was self-assured and steadfast—she had to be, otherwise the world she lived in would chew her up and spit her and her bleeding heart out. Kat prided herself in being visible on purpose now, showing the world who she was through her music, but she’d built more walls around herself than she’d ever had before. She just knew how to navigate and disguise them better. It was hard to know who to let those walls down around, and she could count those she did with on one hand. She should be leaving them up around Callum, but for that brief moment she’d relented.

She shouldn’t allow those walls to crack again. Not unless she had some clear sign she could safely do so, some sign he didn’t resent her because of their past. If he did, she... could understand the logic of that even if she didn’t like it. But Kat wasn’t a little kid anymore. They were adults and with that came a healthy appreciation for enforcing and respecting boundaries. ‘We all have our bullshit to deal with. No need for an extra helping,’ Kat thought darkly, recognizing she could be that extra bullshit helping for Callum, as she flagged down the barkeep from before.

Kat was a woman of many talents—she could easily divide her attention between her internal crisis, ordering another drink, and listening to her ex-housemate as he spoke of his accomplishments.

“I have a daughter. She’s four years old.”

Kat felt her jaw drop despite herself. Callum was a father?! Was he married? Had she been low-key flirting with a married man? Kat felt flush suddenly, heat prickling all the way up her neck and ears—and Kat was pale as hell, she knew there was no hope of hiding it. So instead she fanned herself with the cocktail napkin and nervously turned to him again. Honestly, the shock was enough to cover her embarrassment, and she smiled at him in stunned silence.

She took a breath, licked her dry lips. “Um. Holy shit,” she eloquently started with. “That’s amazing.” And it was. She just needed a moment.

Kat distractedly ordered another scotch, mind reeling. She didn’t bother with the straw and took a sizable gulp.

Callum was a father. She looked at him again. Really looked at him. She looked at his stormy grey eyes, the fullness of his mouth, the haphazard tousle of his hair. She smiled again, this time a lot more heartfelt as she imagined him doing all the things a parent does with their tyke. She needn’t imagine the mother—she knew whoever she was, along with Callum’s generous genes, their daughter must be precious.

She raised her glass to him, still buzzing. “I’m really happy for you, Callum. Congrats to you and the lucky lady. Kids are awesome. I don’t have any of my own, but I do teach enough of them and they annoy me as much as if they were my own. I bloody love them.” Kat thought fondly of her younger music students. They were a handful, no doubt about it, but being around them changed her for the better, she was sure. They probably taught her more than she did them.

In any case, although Kat had physically distanced herself from Callum, there was now a tie of a different kind connecting the two. She smiled at him warmly, wordlessly inviting him to fill the silence with more about his baby or family life, whichever he preferred, and if he wished. She could gladly listen to him speak all night, especially about what must make him incandescently happy. She wasn’t expecting to meet daddy (and possibly, very likely, hitched) Callum tonight, but here they were. She could totally calibrate whatever intentions she may have had previously—she... just needed to not stand so close to him and she’d be totally in control. Totally.

Kat made herself comfortable, sipping her scotch slowly. Wedding guests were still milling about, the din outside the canopy of the willow tree bar as lively as ever. Music filtered softly through the leaves, a soulful song about longing that tickled her ears and thankfully relaxed her further. Nothing could calm her faster than the winning combination of music and the slow burn of a malted scotch.

Realizing his poor choice of words too late, Callum stood awkwardly as he considered the many alternative sentences that could've conveyed the same information. He hadn't meant to startle Kat, though he could see why the bluntness, without any wind up, could be jolting. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling tremendously guilty as Kat stumbled off the edge of her reaction, as if pushed by his own abrupt nature. A small smile cracked when she teetered into hilarity at her own explanation of no kids, unable to help himself at the funny way she ended.

Callum hid his mouth behind his fist, clearing his throat. "I guess I could've led up to that better," he admitted, more than a bit bashful before continuing with hard facts. "I've been divorced for awhile now. Copper spends half of her time with her mom, or her nanny at her mom's house, and half of the time with me in London."

Consciously aware of the barkeep floating around, Callum willed for more privacy. He had recovery work to do already after he blundered about the conversation like an angry bull in a china shop. He jerked his head in the direction of a spot with more privacy. "Do you want to go somewhere better to talk and..." His gaze dropped for a moment, grey eyes seizing up with a storm before clearing. "I don't know, start over?"

Kat’s casual elbow on the bar top slipped upon hearing the news of Callum being divorced. A single father. Kat felt her stupid, bleeding heart go out to him despite how presumptuous it was being and she did her best to belay what was sure to be a most irrational and tactless reaction ranging from sandwiching his hands in her own to sandwiching him in a hug against the bar. In any case, sandwiching would be involved for certain and she must avoid these embarrassing impulses at all cost. She was pretty sure if she didn’t, that’d seal the deal and have Callum walk out on her for good—and she wouldn’t blame him. She was still looking at him through rose-tinted glasses.

God, but the kids were also making her soft—and they were touchy as hell. If Kat so much as arrived at a lesson without a smile (which was good and often, as a person with chronic RBF), one of the 6 year olds would come up to her, gently take her hand, and in their saccharine coated voice genuinely ask her what was the matter. It freaked the hell out of her the first few times. After that, she’d grown accustomed to their weird little love language and found herself being more attuned not just to the children’s feelings, but her own as well. She was a regular Miss Honey. Strictly within her classroom at first, Kat had since felt her needling desire to offer a comforting hand or embrace to her loved ones in her every day life, and this casual breaking of the touch barrier that once had been non-existent in her past was now second-nature in a way she never noticed—until normal, distant, very British etiquette in the shape of Callum appeared before her like a brick wall.

She’d been so focused on remembering all the times that barrier hadn’t been an issue in their younger years that she’d forgotten all the times it had been. Long periods of no touching, avoiding each other, during their last year together—for reasons Kat was certain she could not justify for her younger self. Whenever they did touch, it was always with the fireworks, bursting underneath their skin. Yes, she remembered it was always with the urgency. Near the end, near the last time she and Callum would lay eyes on each other, they’d shifted back into another touchless period. And that had been it.

Until tonight.

“Do you want to go somewhere better to talk and… I don’t know, start over?”

Kat resurfaced from her stupor, looking to where he’d jerked his head. “Um...” There were less people, true, although still a touch crowded. “I’d love nothing more, Arden. But first, no one likes watered down booze.” She smiled at the melting ice that made up his drink and turned again to the bar.

“Could I just have a single this time—I mean it, a single! And top up my friend here, if you would.”

“Of course, love. Another club soda for your ‘friend’?” She could hear the quotation marks in the cheeky barkeep’s voice and only ignored it for one reason. Kat glanced back over the curve of her shoulder at her ‘friend’, amused. “You’re behaving, aren’t you? Wish I could say the same.” She allowed her smile to turn the slightest bit sly before she flipped her hair and turned back to the obnoxious barkeep.

“Splash some gin and lime in there for him, won’t you?”

“One gin rickey and a single malt scotch for the songstress.”

Drinks acquired, Kat pivoted on her boot heel and beckoned him to follow her. “Come with me.”

Winding through the crowd, she walked right past the spot Callum had pointed out and instead disappeared through the Willow tree’s curtains, waiting until Callum emerged before stepping out through a hidden exit from the greenhouse meant for the caterers and bar staff and into a brisk and bright night. The last of the daylight had given up its fight and the countryside darkness would have been engulfing were it not for all the damn fairy lights. The place literally looked like a fairy tale.

Kat stared in wide-eyed wonder at the moving carousel adjacent to the greenhouse. It was glowing soft and yellow, obviously powered by magic. She then looked at the back entrance to the gardens behind the greenhouse. Kat bit her lip, thinking. The carousel looked like a laugh, but it was currently swarming with more people (and not… kids) than she’d expected. She spun around to face Callum, standing dutifully behind her, and quite without a second thought, curled her fingertips into his own, smiled in a way she hoped charming enough, and without a word tugged him along the path leading into the gardens.

The fireworks, she noticed, were still there, setting off in each fingertip that touched his and landing somewhere near the vicinity of her elbow. Kat could almost roll her eyes at the universe. Or, more accurately, her own predictability.

[out, but not far! Click here for a little garden thread intro post]