Chapter 14 - Callahan
I knew my mother could be unbearable at times.
That was not new information. I’d grown up learning how to navigate her sharp expectations and sharp tongue like a man memorizing the exits of a burning building.
But as I stood there, watching Victoria linger just a little too close, her manicured fingers grazing the stem of her wineglass.
As though she belonged here, I couldn’t help but think this time my mother had crossed a line.
Cruel was the word that settled in my chest.
She was being incredibly cruel.
She demanded that I show up with my wife, yet she had the audacity to have Victoria here. I knew my mom wanted me to marry Victoria even though I’ve made it clear that would never happen, so inviting her felt even more like a slap to the face.
A part of me wanted to take Vani and leave.
The impulse was sharp and instinctive, like reaching for a weapon when threatened.
I could already picture it: my hand on the small of her back, murmuring something about a headache or a sudden meeting, ushering her away before this situation could get any worse.
But another part of me refused.
Because leaving would mean retreating. And retreating would mean giving them the satisfaction of knowing they’d gotten under my skin. Of knowing they’d won.
I clenched my jaw, irritation simmering beneath the surface, and it was then that I became aware of something else entirely. Something a lot more dangerous than whatever my mom and Victoria were planning.
I’d called her Vani.
The realization hit me like a low hum beneath my ribs. The name had slipped into my mind so naturally that it startled me. I’d never shortened her name before. Never felt the urge to. But there it was, warm and familiar in a way that made something in my chest tighten unexpectedly.
I ignored the fuzzy feeling that followed. Buried it where I buried most of my romantic emotions.
Without another word, I reached for her arm.
Evania startled slightly at the contact. Her attention snapped back to me, but she didn’t pull away. My fingers wrapped around her forearm with deliberate ease. I began leading her outside.
“Lunch is in the backyard,” I said quietly.
I turned and led her toward the back doors, ignoring Victoria, who looked shocked that I ignored her. The backyard stretched beyond the glass, sunlit and pristine, with white tablecloths fluttering gently in the breeze, the scent of grilled food drifting through the open doors.
I didn’t miss the huff of indignation behind us.
Victoria followed.
Of course she did.
The sound alone grated on my nerves. I resisted the urge to turn around and tell her exactly where she could shove that attitude. Instead, I focused on Vani, on the way she matched my stride effortlessly, her posture relaxed but alert.
As soon as we stepped onto the grass, she raised a brow in my direction. She didn't say anything; she didn't have to. That one look told me she wanted an explanation, and she deserved one.
I exhaled through my nose and slowed, guiding her toward a table at the far end of the yard, one that offered just enough distance from the others without appearing deliberate.
The sun filtered through the trees overhead, dappling her face in light and shadow.
Not for the first time, I hated the fact that I’d dragged her into this.
“That’s Victoria,” I said, keeping my voice low. “My ex.”
I waited for the reaction.
Prepared myself for annoyance, for irritation, maybe even discomfort. Any of it would have been justified. She had every right to feel blindsided. I felt the same. Instead, she laughed. She laughed as though she’d just been told something highly amusing.
The tension in my shoulders eased, and a surprised, reluctant grin tugged at my lips when her laughter met me. Relief mixed with disbelief—I hadn’t expected her to find it funny.
“You’re serious?” she asked, still smiling.
“Unfortunately.”
She shook her head, still smiling. “Your mother invited your ex to a family lunch where she insisted you bring your wife?”
“That would be correct.”
She shook her head, lips pressing together as she struggled not to laugh. “Wow. And I thought she just wanted to meet me.”
"That's what I thought too," I muttered. I didn’t like any of this.
Her gaze flicked past me, toward where Victoria was approaching, her heels sinking slightly into the grass, her expression already sharpened into something unpleasant.
“Well,” Vania said lightly, “this just got interesting.”
I almost smiled.
Victoria stopped a few feet away, eyes sweeping over Vani with thinly veiled disdain. She took in her dress, her posture, the way she stood beside me without hesitation. Then her lips curved into an ugly frown.
“So,” she drawled, “this must be the wife.”
Vani turned fully toward her, expression open and amused. “That I am.”
Victoria’s eyes flashed. “You sound awfully proud while being a homewrecker.”
I felt my temper flare. “Victoria—”
But Vani laughed again, this time even louder. It was so unexpected that it caught both of us off guard.
“A homewrecker?” she said, tilting her head. “Is that what you’re going with?”
Victoria crossed her arms. “If the shoe fits.”
Evania glanced down at her left hand, then deliberately lifted it, holding it up between them. The ring caught the sunlight, the diamond gleaming unapologetically.
“Well,” she said pleasantly, “seeing as I’m the one wearing the ring, I highly doubt I’m the homewrecker here.”
I bit back a smile, feeling a flicker of pride at Vani’s response, and the heat of anger in my jaw relaxed just slightly.
Victoria’s mouth tightened. “You think a piece of jewelry makes you legitimate?”
“I think,” Evania replied calmly, “that it makes me his wife.”
She let her hand fall back to her side and leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just enough to carry an edge. “I also think it’s fascinating that an ex my husband clearly despises has the freedom to show up here.”
Her gaze flicked pointedly toward the table, toward my mother. “It's all very interesting.”
Silence followed.
Without saying a word to either of us, she turned sharply and rushed toward my mother, who was clearly watching the entire scene unfold.
Of course, she was watching.
Amy Sterling never missed anything that threatened her control.
I felt Vani stiffen beside me, the shift subtle but unmistakable. Instinctively, I reached over and wrapped my hand around her waist, pulling her closer to me as we started toward the rest of my family.
We were only a few feet away when she gasped suddenly. I followed her gaze and suppressed a smile.
Emily.
My sister stood a few feet away, frozen in shock, staring at Vani as if she had just stepped out of one of her own novels. Vani’s fingers curled lightly against my side.
“Oh my God,” she whispered under her breath.
I leaned slightly toward her. “You okay?”
“That’s Emily Sterling,” she breathed, as if I somehow didn’t know.
“I’m aware.”
Her eyes were wide with equal parts panic and awe. I knew exactly what was going through her mind. Emily wasn’t just my sister. She was one of Vani’s favorite authors. I remember how excited she was at Emily's book signing, and I had hoped that this moment would make everything easier for her.
Emily blinked once, then twice, before finally stepping forward. Her expression softened into something warm despite the obvious surprise still written across her face.
“Callahan,” she said slowly, “Is this your wife?”
I smirked slightly. “Emily, this is Evania Sterling. My wife.”
Emily’s gaze snapped to Vani's left hand, then to mine. Vani looked like she might actually faint. She swallowed, then straightened her shoulders like she was about to walk into battle. Instead, she grinned.
“We’re about to be best of friends,” she said confidently.
I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.
Emily stared at her for half a second before breaking into a laugh. “I think we are.”
“You have no idea how many times I’ve reread your second book,” Evania added quickly, excitement spilling over now that the initial shock had worn off. “The ending had me in tears for three days."
Emily’s eyebrows lifted. “I was hoping to get a couple of tears with that one.”
I chuckled quietly.
Emily looked between us again, clearly still stunned. “I did not expect to meet one of my readers tonight. Definitely not as my brother’s wife.”
“I didn’t expect that either,” Vani admitted.
There was something almost surreal about the whole exchange. The tension in the room hadn’t disappeared, but it had shifted; it softened a bit. I turned just in time to catch Victoria whispering something into my mother’s ear. My mother’s expression remained composed, but her eyes narrowed on us.
“We should greet Mom and Dad,” I said.
Vani nodded, still glowing slightly from the interaction. As we approached my parents, I kept my arm firmly around her waist. My father stood beside my mother, hands clasped behind his back. He looked curious but not hostile. My mother, however, didn’t look pleased.
“Callahan,” my mother said evenly, her gaze moving from me to Vani. “You’ve certainly made an entrance.”
“I wasn’t trying to,” I replied calmly, "but some people like to stir up drama.
I tilted my head to Victoria, who looked offended but didn't dare say anything in response. The silence that followed was suffocating.
My father stepped forward first, breaking it.
“Welcome to our home,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Vani let out a quiet breath of relief and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”
“Christopher,” he corrected gently.
She smiled. “Christopher.”
My mother did not extend her hand; she didn't even look in our direction. I felt irritation crawl up my spine yet again. I wanted to call my mother out on her behavior, to demand that she show basic respect. But before I could speak, Vani squeezed my arm.
I glanced down at her.
She gave me a small shake of her head.
Don’t.
My jaw tightened.
Reluctantly, I stayed silent.
With nothing else to say, I pulled out Vani’s chair and helped her sit.
The moment Evania sat down, my mother lifted her fingers slightly—barely a gesture at all—but the staff moved instantly. Like soldiers awaiting command.
Platters emerged from the kitchen in quick procession. The scent of roasted herbs and butter filled the air as dish after dish was placed before us. No one spoke. Not even my mother. The only sound was porcelain touching wood and the soft shuffle of people rushing away.
I sat rigidly beside Vani, acutely aware of every breath she took. She adjusted her napkin calmly, smoothing it over her lap like she was settling into an ordinary dinner.
Across the table, my mother openly glared at her. They moved over Evania from head to toe as if she were inspecting a flawed product.
Evania didn’t react.
If she noticed—and I knew she did—she gave no indication. She reached for her water glass and took a slow sip, completely unbothered.
My jaw tightened.
The tension stretched longer than it should have. The staff finished placing the final dish and stepped back, awaiting dismissal. My mother waved them away without a glance.
“Are you going to acknowledge me,” she said sharply, eyes locked on Evania, “or were you not taught basic courtesy?”
I stiffened.
Evania blinked once, slowly, then looked at her.
“I’m sorry?”
“You walked into my home,” my mother continued, her voice tight and clipped, “and didn’t even greet me.”
My hands curled into fists. My mother was clearly the one who set an invisible boundary with Evania, refusing to acknowledge her, even though her husband had already done so.
“That’s not—” I started.
Evania raised a brow and glanced at me.
That single look stopped me. It was the third time she gave me that look today.
I swallowed back my words, not wanting to make things worse. Evania sat back in her chair, folded her hands lightly on the table, and looked at my mother with steady eyes.
“Are you planning on being a bitch the whole evening?” she asked.