Chapter 36 · Not a Mistake

"You were never a mistake."

Callum says it into the side of my neck, low, like he's scared saying it louder will make it not true. His hand's still locked around my wrist, thumb pressed right over the mark, and it flares hot enough that I hiss.

"Don't." I yank back. My spine hits the file cabinet. Cold metal through my shirt, and he doesn't let go. "You said it in front of two hundred people, Callum. In a glass chapel. With cameras. You don't get to whisper it in a supply closet a year later and call us even."

"It's not about even."

"Then what is it about." I shove his chest, and he moves maybe an inch, which tells me exactly how much that shove weighed to him. "Say it was the port. Say it again, go on, I've got it memorized. 'A mistake' — that's the word you used, not 'strategic,' not 'temporary,' you said *mistake*, right after the vows, so don't stand here a year to the day and tell me the mark was lying."

His jaw does that thing. Tight, then tighter. "The port deal was real. The threat behind it was real.