Page 52 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

“Yeah. I guess.”

“They’re lovely,” Callum said, sliding his hand out from under Robbie’s and twisting the cap back on the nail polish.

Robbie held his hand out in front of his face, turning it back and forth to catch different facets of the polish. He smiled.

“Not bad for a first-timer, boss.”

“It’s hardly rocket science, Robbie. But I think you were right. The color suits you. And I believe Jory will love it.”

The wood stove crackled pleasantly, and Callum reveled in the warmth of the room. Robbie rose and began collecting the used cotton balls, tossing them in the trash before gathering up the polish and remover. Robbie hadn’t known what to do when Callum offered to do his nails, to take care of him. He wondered how long Robbie had been fending for himself without anyone he could trust. It felt familiar.

“Robbie,” Callum said, and Robbie turned to face him. “I think you’re great too.”

He beamed. “Aw, shucks, boss. Thanks.”

“And I want to help ye how I can. I am sure ye have bills and?—”

“Boss?” Robbie said, interrupting.

“Aye?”

“I don’t need your money. I told Penny to stop sending me paychecks.”

Callum reared back. She hadn’t said a word to him. And neither had Robbie.

“Why would ye do such a thing, Robbie? You cannae work for free.”

“I’m not doing any work for you,” he said. “Or, at least, I haven’t been working since we found Esther. I called Penny and told her to stop my checks right after you talked to Esther at Hank’s.”

“Ye arenae getting paid? Then… why are you still here?”

Robbie set the bottles down and walked over to where Callum still sat at the island. He placed a hand on Callum’s shoulder. “Because, boss, I kinda felt like you could use a friend.”

Robbie wasn’t here because he was paying him to be. Robbie was here because he wanted to be. Robbie had bought nail polish for Jory because he thought she’d like it. He’d been a wingman—wasn’t that what they called it? Thebestwingman. Robbie was…

“I dinnae think ye should call me boss anymore, then.”

Robbie laughed. “Not even as a nickname?”

Callum bit back a smile. “If ye like it for a nickname, I will nae stop you.”

Robbie looked thoughtful for a moment. “Magda calls you Cal. Would you hate it if I called you that too?”

Callum considered it. He thought about Jory and how she’d shed her old name like a snakeskin. He didn’t feel the need to shed it entirely. He liked his name. But he liked the diminutive as well. It felt… new. Fresh.

“I dinnae mind that at all,” he replied.

“Well, that’s settled, then. Hungry yet?”

He must have looked famished because Robbie barked a laugh and said, “Alright then. Sit tight. I’ll put this shit away, and then you can have a little Carotid Colada.”

“Robbie,” Callum muttered, but he fought back a laugh.

“Jugular juice it is then!” Robbie called out as he walked into the bathroom.

“Nay!” Callum shouted back.

“Arterytini!”