6- Callahan
I arrived twenty minutes early and immediately regretted it.
The restaurant sat across the street, all warm light and polished windows, looking far too inviting for the mess I had going on in my head.
Cars already filled most of the parking lot, people moving in and out with the easy confidence of those who knew exactly why they were there.
Dates. Celebrations. Normal evenings that didn’t feel like negotiations with fate.
I sat in my car, the keys resting uselessly in my hand. The silence inside the vehicle felt louder than traffic ever could, pressing in on me, leaving no room to escape my thoughts. I leaned my head back against the seat and stared at the ceiling, exhaling slowly, as if that alone might steady me.
Why did I have to show up twenty minutes early when Evania wasn’t even here yet? It was too early to go inside and also too late to pretend I hadn’t already made this complicated by asking her on this date.
It would be entirely too easy to form a genuine relationship with her. I could imagine it too easily—normal dinners, unplanned mornings, arguments that weren’t calculated, laughter that didn’t come with an audience. The kind of relationship I’d convinced myself I wasn’t ready for.
And the worst part? I didn’t dislike the idea.
I liked it. More than I should have. That alone should have told me to stay away.
I turned my head and stared out the window, jaw tightening as reality pushed back in.
Wanting something and being able to have it were two very different things.
I had learned that lesson early in life, drilled into me with boardroom conversations and family expectations disguised as concern.
I had to get married.
That was the truth of the matter. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t ready or that it was being forced onto me. If I wanted the company, I had to abide by the rules set before me, no matter how forceful they were.
I clenched my hands together, the weight of expectation pressing down harder the longer I sat there.
I knew myself well enough to admit the truth even if I didn’t like it.
I wasn’t willing to walk away from the company.
I had to get married in less than a month.
I had no right to drag Evania into my mess. And yet, I already had.
I dropped my head forward, shame creeping in slowly.
Pursuing her had been impulsive. Selfish.
A moment of weakness I hadn’t bothered to analyze until it was already done.
I told myself at the time that it was harmless—that I was just curious, just enjoying her company, just allowing myself something uncomplicated.
That had been a lie.
Nothing about this was uncomplicated.
I shouldn’t have done this.
I knew that.
But I also couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
That realization was somehow worse.
Regret would have been an easier emotion to handle. Now I could only reflect on my decisions and the reality that there was no perfect solution here. I had two options, neither of which sat well with me.
I could stay silent and let things continue as they were. Let her believe this was something that could grow into more, even though I knew it likely couldn’t. That would buy me time, comfort, and something dangerously close to happiness, but it would be at her expense.
Or I could tell her the truth.
Risk her walking away. Risk seeing the disappointment in her eyes.Risk losing something I hadn’t even fully allowed myself to have.
I swallowed hard. While stringing her along would be easier, it wasn’t something I was comfortable with.
I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing I’d intentionally hurt her.
I let out a slow breath and nodded to myself, having come to a decision.
If there was any version of this where I could look myself in the mirror afterward, it was the honest one.
Even if honesty ruined whatever fragile thing existed between us.
My gaze flicked toward the restaurant entrance, then back to the parking lot, scanning each empty space with more focus than I cared to admit.
The building itself was understated but elegant—warm brick, soft lighting spilling from tall windows, a place that didn’t need to announce itself to be impressive. It was exactly why I’d chosen it.
I exhaled slowly and forced myself to look away, tapping my thumb against my phone screen even though there were no notifications waiting for me.
Suddenly, headlights swept across the lot.
A car turned in from the street, slowing as it pulled into the parking area. My attention snapped to it immediately, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. I straightened slightly, eyes tracking the vehicle as it moved past the entrance and toward the row near mine.
I watched it come to a stop, watched the engine cut off. I momentarily wondered if Evania was in that car, but I quickly shrugged it off. That was until Evania actually stepped out, looking even more beautiful than I remembered.
She closed the car door and adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder, pausing for just a second as she looked around the lot. I opened my own door and got out to meet her. Her head snapped in my direction instantly.
Recognition lit her expression, followed by a smile so quick and genuine it felt like a physical embrace. Warm. Open. And entirely unguarded. She started toward me without hesitation.
“Callahan,” she said when she reached me, her voice carrying a lightness that settled deep in my chest.
“Evania,” I replied.
“Am I late?” she asked nervously as she glanced at her phone for the time.
“You’re right on time,” I said, unable to hide my smile.
“So are you,” she replied, glancing briefly at her phone before tucking it away. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”
“I wouldn’t have minded,” I said.
The honesty of it surprised me. I wasn’t sure why I’d said it, but I didn’t take it back. Her smile shifted slightly, softened, and she nodded as if filing the comment away for later.
We turned toward the restaurant together, falling into step easily. The walk was short, but I was acutely aware of her presence beside me—the faint brush of her arm against mine, the way she looked around as if she were taking everything in, committing it to memory.
The doors opened smoothly, and warmth enveloped us as we stepped inside.
The restaurant was alive with quiet energy.
Low conversations murmured beneath soft music, glasses clinked, and somewhere nearby, something sizzled, releasing a rich, mouthwatering scent into the air.
The lighting was dim but intentional, casting everything in a flattering glow that made the space feel intimate without being cramped.
The hostess greeted us with a professional smile. “Hello, I’m Sarah, and I’ll be your hostess for the evening. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes,” I said, giving my name.
She checked her tablet and nodded. “Right this way.”
We followed her through the dining area, past neatly dressed tables and flickering candles. I noticed the way Evania’s eyes widened slightly as she took it all in, her attention drawn to carefully curated décor.
The hostess stopped near a window and pulled out a chair for Evania, who thanked her softly before sitting. I took the seat across from her as the hostess placed menus in front of us.
“Your server will be with you shortly,” she said, then left us alone.
Evania picked up her menu immediately.
“This is great,” she breathed, eyes scanning the page. “I’ve always wanted to come here.”
That made me pause.
“You have?” I asked.
She nodded eagerly, still looking down at the menu. “Yes. I’ve heard so many good things. People talk about this place like it’s life-changing.”
I smiled faintly. “That’s a pretty high standard.”
“I know,” she said, laughing softly. “But everyone swears the food is incredible.”
I watched her for a moment, the enthusiasm written plainly across her face, and felt an unexpected surge of satisfaction.
“I’m glad we could share the experience together,” I said, which earned a tiny smile from her.
“Well,” she says without looking up, “this is already stressful.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “We just sat down.”
“I know,” she replies, flipping a page. “But there are too many options. Why would they do that to people?”
I tilt my head. “You’re anti-choice?”
“I’m anti too many choices,” she corrects. “Give me three solid options and let me live in peace.”
I glance down at my own menu. Steak. Chicken. Fish. Pasta. Variations of the same thing dressed up with different sauces.
“Then this place should be perfect for you,” I say. “It’s all the same food pretending to be different.”
She looks up at me, eyes bright with amusement. “You’re not wrong.”
I relax back into the seat, letting the menu rest on the table for now. I already knew what I wanted, having been here once before.
“So,” she says, folding her menu closed but keeping her finger tucked inside like a bookmark. “First impressions.”
I blinked. “Already?”
“Relax,” she said, eyes alight with mischief. “I meant about the restaurant.”
“Oh.” I nod. “It’s nice. I really like the lighting.”
“So,” she says, breaking it gently. “Are you always this calm?”
I shrug. “Usually.”
“Even on first dates?”
I hesitate. “Not always.”
She smiles, clearly pleased by that answer. “Good. I was worried I’d have to carry the nervous energy for both of us.”
I chuckle. “You seem to be doing fine.”
“That’s because I decided not to overthink it,” she says. “Overthinking ruins things.”
“That might be the most unrelatable thing you’ve said so far.”
She grins. “I’ll work on it.”
I didn’t get nervous. I negotiated billion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat.
I stood in front of boardrooms filled with people waiting for me to fail and didn’t flinch.
But sitting across from Evania, watching her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as she scanned the menu like this was the most normal thing in the world? That did something to me.
“So,” she said, glancing up at me. “I have an important question.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Already?”
She nodded solemnly. “It’s very important. Do you like pineapple on your pizza?”
I snorted before I could stop myself. “Absolutely not.”
Her gasp was dramatic, her hand flying to her chest. “Wow. Judgmental much?”
“I have great taste,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
She laughed then—really laughed—and something in my chest loosened. The sound was easy, unguarded, like she wasn’t thinking about how she looked or sounded. She looked like she was thoroughly enjoying herself with me, and I liked it.
“I knew it,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re one of those.”
“One of those?” I leaned back in my chair. “Please enlighten me.”
“The type who pretends to be low-maintenance but has very strong opinions about food.”
I smiled despite myself. “You wound me.”
She grinned, eyes bright. “You didn’t deny it.”
I studied her for a moment, noting how relaxed but attentive she was. It was like she was absorbing everything around her while pretending she wasn’t. It made me curious in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“What about you?” I asked. “Pineapple defender?”
“Proudly,” she said. “Sweet and savory together just make sense.”
I hummed thoughtfully. “That tells me more about you than you realize.”
“Oh?” She tilted her head. “And what does it say?”
“That you like balance,” I said. “Contrast. You don’t mind when things don’t fit neatly into one category.”
Her gaze lingered on me a beat longer than before. “Or,” she said lightly, “it means I just like pineapple.”
I chuckled. “That’s one way to look at it.”
The waiter came by then to take our orders, and I let her go first, watching as she ordered a healthy serving of food. I was both surprised and impressed by her appetite. When the waiter left, she folded her hands together and leaned forward slightly. “Okay, let me ask you a real question.”
“Okay,” I braced myself. “Go ahead.”
“What’s something you like that most people wouldn’t guess about you?”
I paused. Not because I didn’t have an answer, but because I rarely offered honest ones. Especially not for this question. “I read,” I said finally.
Her eyebrows lifted. “That’s it? That’s your big secret?”
“Not business books,” I clarified. “Novels.”
That caught her attention.
“Romance?” she asked hopefully.
I groaned. “Why does everyone jump to that?”
She laughed. “Because it would be adorable.”
“I’m not adorable.”
“That’s debatable.”
I shook my head, smiling. “Mostly historical fiction. Some fantasy. Anything with a good story.”
Her expression softened. “I like that.”
“Why?”
“Because it means you care about worlds beyond your own,” she said simply.
The answer surprised me.
“I work in a library café,” she added, as if reading my thoughts. “I see a lot of people pass through. The ones who read to escape reality always stand out.”
“What about you?” I asked. “What’s one thing I wouldn’t guess about you?”
She tapped her finger against her chin. “I hate mornings.”
I laughed. “That’s it?”
“Idespisemornings,” she emphasized. “Anyone who says they’re a morning person is lying or dangerous.”
“Duly noted,” I said. “So no sunrise hikes?”
“Only if I’m being blackmailed.”
I laughed again, more easily this time. Conversation flowed without effort, jumping from favorite foods to travel dreams to the most random things—like whether ghosts existed or if fate was real.
“Do you believe in soulmates?” she asked suddenly.
The question landed heavier than the others.
“I believe in choice,” I said carefully. “People choosing each other every day.”
She smiled at that, softer now. “That’s a good answer.”
“It’s honest.”
“I like honest.”
I swallowed hard, suddenly reminded of what I had to tell her. We were getting on so well together that I almost wanted to keep it a secret for a bit longer, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to tell her tonight.