Chapter 186 Eat

Chapter 186 Eat
7 am comes faster than I expected. I’ve hardly fed Mace when I hear the knocks from downstairs. We glance at each other, and I get out of bed sluggishly. I need to eat or I may slump. But I have no appetite. Since Mace can crawl, I let him down on the floor once we are downstairs and skip to the door. 
Calum is all smiles when I open up. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply. I step back for him to enter. 
“He crawls?” he asks, his voice laced with excitement. I nod, but he’s already gone to his son. Squatting before Mace, he says, “Hey.” 
A spell of dizziness hits me as I stagger to them. Calum lifts Mace off the floor, coming to stand beside me. “Hey, are you okay?” 
“Yeah. I’m fine. Did you drive here?” 
He looks suspicious. “Yes. Have you eaten?” 
I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat in two days. If I have, I don’t remember. Whatever the case, I don’t have much of an appetite.
“Yeah,” I reply. 
“You should sit down,” he murmurs. I don’t want to argue in front of Mace so I follow him to the couch. Once I’m seated, he places Mace on my lap. “Have you fed him?” 
“You came before I could finish.” 
On his knees, he places a hand on my thigh and sparks race up my chest. He gazes up at us with a strange smile plastered on his lips.
“I’ll feed him,” he states. I nod. My head falls back to the couch. “Where’s the bottle?” 
My eyes close. “My room.” 
“I’ll be right back.” 
His footfalls fade behind me. My intestines knot painfully and I dry heave. Was Dad able to finish cooking last night? I wait for the sound of Calum’s footsteps so I can go check. As much as his presence is welcome here, I don’t want him doing too much for me. 
Someone taps me. Calum. He pries Mace from me and jerks his head towards the dining. My movements are slow. I think I want to sleep. Calum loops an arm through my elbow and we walk side by side. I don’t want to depend on him but I don’t have much of a choice right now. He sits me down.
“There wasn’t much I could find,” he says. 
There’s a tiny bowl of ketchup beside the plate of boiled potatoes and scrambled eggs. Either he made those or Dad was doing that yesterday and stopped after I freaked them out. I’m okay. I don’t need to talk to a professional or anyone else.
Calum settles into his role of a caring father and feeds his son. I pick up my fork, take a few bites and push the plate away. 
“I’m not hungry.” 
Calum squints. “You need to eat.” I shake my head and he lets out a breath. Mace has no idea what’s going on, his happy suckles break the silence at intervals but aside that, he is calm. “Cathy, you need to eat something.” 
“I already did.” 
“Cathy,” he warns. “Eat.” 
 “You don’t get to come here and order me around,” I remind him. “I’m not hungry.” 
“How are you supposed to take care of Mace or yourself when you don’t eat? Eat.” 
This human. I fold my arms. “Or what?” 
“I’ll tie you to that chair and force-feed you,” he replies without missing a beat.
What? But I grab the fork and stab the potato. It’s tough but I manage to take one bite and another until the content of the plate is gone. Calum’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine. His son burps, but otherwise, he doesn’t check on his mother. I finish the food and make a show of licking the plate. 
Calum chuckles. As if it’s funny. 
“Are you happy now?” I ask, showing him the plate. 
“Very happy, Cathy.” 
Silence stretches. He can go back to where he came from now. We are good without his interference.
“Your kitchen is empty,” he comments. 
Okay, Sherlock. Calum waits for me to speak but I have no words for him. He glances at Mace, he’s awake but quiet. I bite my tongue from speaking when he lowers our son to the floor. Mace happily crawls away. The dining is kids-proofed so I have nothing to worry about. 
“If you don’t mind,” Calum says. He doesn’t look at me. “I could run to the store and get some items for you. I’ll need a list.” 

“I do mind,” I reply. 
He leans forward with his forearms on the table. “Stop making this hard for both of us.” 
“You are the one making it hard. You are the one who wants to be more than they are to us,” I tell him. He scoffs. That won’t be the only thing he will be doing when I’m done talking. “You don’t have to do anything for me. You don’t have to get me groceries. You don’t have to cook or take care of—”
“I want to,” he whispers.
His hand reaches for mine but I hide it under the table. I may have had a moment of weakness yesterday or this morning, but I still have the same opinions about him.
“Doing all of that won’t give you a place in our lives,” I spit out with enough hate. I’m this bitter lady, and I want to hurt him. “I don’t want you here, Calum. And if Mace were older, he would probably say the same.” 
His voice goes low. “Enough, okay?” 
I brace my forearms on the table, eyes narrowed to harsh slits. I hate him. “You’re not wanted here, Mr Dissick. Go home.”