“How old are you?” I ask. “Forty-four.” “No,” I snap like a reflex. I took him to be in his late thirties, but not mid forties. He’s older than Sunny’s husband, but it’s a different look of aging. “Yep,” Callum says with a hint of laughter. “You don’t look it.” “Well, how old are you?” “Twenty-four.” “A baby.”
