To Love Calum Dissick (Stepbrother Dearest Book 2) by Maramartha

Author:Maramartha [Maramartha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-04-04T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

Sweet and Tender

Oh.

I’m not impressed.

Calum pulls me along to the front of the crowd. The man on the bench has a guitar, his body bent like he’s hugging it to his chest. The guitar case is open on the floor for onlookers to drop money in it. Calum wanders off to the man, leaving me alone to watch and wonder. What’s his plan?

They exchange words for a while, and the man gives a curt nod. Dew coats the bench. My eyes follow the moisture, then move back to the man’s threadbare outfit. The thin shirt hidden under his black coat can barely keep the cold of the night away. I don’t think I like this type of concert.

On Calum’s return, he’s not smiling. “So… I don’t think we will be having our concert tonight or before we leave.” I pout. He barks out a laugh. The small crowd thins out after hearing him. When I count again, we are less than ten. “Except you’re up for performing. That may—”

“It’s not a concert if I perform,” I mumble.

“Says who?” he questions. “It will be your concert. Only this time, people will be watching you sing, Cathie.” I frown at the man’s empty guitar case. “And he could do with some money.”

I smack his chest. He’s pulling out every weapon for this man, tugging at my poor heart. “Cal.”

Damn those eyes that squint at me. All my walls crumble. I allow my stepbrother to lead me to the bench. The man offers Calum his guitar while I take the spot on his left. Calum sits on his right. He strums the guitar, producing an unfamiliar sound. His encouraging smile spurs me on.

“Cal, should we do an Elvis Presley?” I ask. By now, the crowd has reduced to five. We need to pick a song right now. In a singsong voice, I murmur, “Love me Tender, love me sweet…”

“It’s not a duet,” Calum says.

“Neither was Alanis.”

The old man leans forward, blocking my view of Calum. “I think I agree with the lady,” he says loud enough for us to hear him. He’s my new favourite person. “Everybody loves Presley, Cal.”

They know each other? I don’t get to dwell on that. Calum thrums the guitar, and I ease into the song. The old man scampers off, giving me an unrestricted view of Calum’s blues. I fumble through the first line but his blues remain on my face, pulling me in and shattering all my fears.

When I restart the love song, it’s with the same confidence I use for our home duets. “Love me tender, love me sweet,” I sing. But what I mean is: don’t break up with me. Don’t give up on us.

The lyrics fit our situation because Calum has made my life complete, and I love him so much. He joins me during the chorus. He has never called me his darling, but I think I want that now.

Our voices blend as our hearts connect.

Calum is singing for me.

I am singing for him.

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