Chapter 33 - Evania
Callahan was finishing the last of his coffee across from me, looking far too relaxed for someone who had an entire charity ball to attend later tonight. I watched him for a moment, weighing my words, before finally giving in.
I narrowed my eyes at him from across the breakfast table.
“What?” he asked innocently.
I pointed my fork at him. “You look too peaceful. That usually means you’re about to annoy me.”
His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “I’m wounded that you think so little of me.”
You hid my phone charger two days ago because I haven’t given you a pet name.
“I think that's reasonable,” he replied smoothly.
I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped myself with a sigh.
“Actually,” I said, pushing my plate away, “I need your opinion.”
His brows lifted slightly.
“My opinion?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
“Yes, yours. How should I style my hair for the charity ball tonight?”
His answer came without even a second of hesitation. "Wear your curls.”
I paused. “That was fast. Don't you need to think about it?”
He leaned back in his chair slightly, studying me like the answer had been obvious the entire time. “No. Your curls are beautiful.”
I huffed a quiet laugh before pushing my chair back and standing.
“If you want curls, get ready not to see me for three to four hours.”
His eyebrows shot up immediately. “Three to four hours?”
I nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes.”
He stared at me like he was trying to decide whether I was exaggerating. “You’re serious.”
“Completely,” I said, crossing my arms. “Washing, conditioning, detangling, styling, drying—it’s a process.”
He just stared at me, clearly shocked. Then, just as quickly, he recovered. “I’ll help you.”
I blinked in surprise. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll help,” he repeated calmly, pushing his chair back and standing. “If it takes that long, we might as well do it together.”
I studied him carefully, trying to determine if he understood what he was volunteering for.
“You do realize you’re offering to assist with something you know absolutely nothing about.”
“That’s true,” he admitted. “But I’m confident I can learn.”
I couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at my lips.
“Fine,” I said. “But don’t complain halfway through.”
“I won’t.”
“Or get bored.”
“I won’t.”
“Or leave me with half-styled hair.”
“Evania.”
I raised a brow. “Yes?”
“Let’s go do your hair.”
Three hours later, we were still in our ensuite bathroom.
What began as a simple hair routine had somehow turned into an entire event.
The counters were covered in bottles and brushes. Hair clips were scattered across the marble like tiny casualties of the styling process. My playlist echoed through the bathroom while Callahan stood behind me, carefully working through another section of my hair.
“You’re surprisingly patient,” I told him, watching his reflection in the mirror.
“I’m determined,” he corrected.
“That too.”
He misted another section lightly with water before gently detangling it the way I had shown him earlier.
“You know,” he said after a moment, “I didn’t expect hair to be this complicated.”
I laughed. “You should see the full routine.”
His eyes widened slightly. “This isn’t the full routine?”
“No.”
He shook his head slowly. “I suddenly understand why you warned me.”
The music on my playlist shifted to another song, and I immediately started singing along under my breath. A second later, Callahan joined in. I glanced back at him.
“You don’t know the words.”
“I know enough.”
“You’re making up half of them.”
“I prefer to think of it as creative interpretation.”
I laughed again as he continued singing confidently, even though he was absolutely wrong. For the next hour, we worked through the rest of my hair, talking, laughing, and occasionally breaking into off-key singing whenever a song we both liked came on.
By the time we finished, my hair was completely sectioned and rolled into my perm rods. I turned slightly, checking the final result in the mirror and making sure all my hair was prepped. Callahan leaned against the counter behind me, clearly satisfied with our work.
“I can't wait to see the results,” he grinned.
I smiled softly.
Before I could respond, his phone started ringing. He glanced at the screen and sighed quietly. “It's Daniel."
“Go ahead,” I told him.
He nodded and stepped out of the bathroom to take the call. Once he disappeared into the bedroom, I grabbed my phone from the counter. If he was going to be busy for a few minutes, I might as well call my parents.
I tapped my mom’s contact and started a FaceTime call. It rang twice before connecting. My dad appeared first on the screen.
“Hi, sweetheart—”
He stopped abruptly. His eyes focused on my hair. “Are you going out?”
I laughed lightly. “Callahan is taking me to a charity ball tonight.”
My mom leaned into the frame beside him.
“That's nice,” she said with a shrug.
I frowned slightly. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you’d be more interested.”
“I am,” she said casually. “But first—where is my son-in-law?”
“Excuse me?”
“Callahan,” she clarified. “Where is he?”
I crossed my arms. “I’m your child.”
“I'm aware.”
I frowned harder. "You met him once. Why are you already playing favorites?”
“It’s not favoritism.”
“It absolutely is.”
My dad chuckled quietly beside her. “So where is he?”
“He’s on the phone with his assistant.”
She sighed dramatically. “Well, that’s disappointing.”
I threw my hands in the air. “I’m right here.”
“Yes, but you’re not my son-in-law.”
Just then, as if perfectly timed, Callahan walked back into the room. He was still on his call, holding a file in one hand as he walked past me toward the desk. As he passed behind me, he paused. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead before continuing toward the desk.
At the same time, he glanced at my phone and waved.
My parents both waved back immediately.
“Well,” she said. “Since he’s busy, I suppose I’ll trust you with this.”
I already didn’t like where this was going. “What?”
“I want you to send me his favorite food.”
“Why?”
“So I can cook it at the next family dinner.”
“You met him once.”
She shrugged again. “He’s family.”
I sighed. “Fine.”
“Good,” she said brightly. “Don't forget.”
“I won't.”
After that, we exchanged a few more pleasantries. My dad asked about the charity ball, my mom reminded me to send the information about Callahan’s favorite food, and eventually the conversation wound down.
A few minutes later, I ended the call and set my phone aside.
“I had Christina invited to the ball,” he said, as he sat beside me.
My heart skipped a beat. “You… what?”
The words came slower than expected; I wasn’t sure whether to laugh, throw something, or applaud the audacity.
Callahan chuckled softly, clearly amused by my reaction.
“Relax,” he said. “It’s intentional.”
“That part I figured out,” I replied dryly. “The part I’m struggling with is why.”
He turned toward me fully then, his expression shifting into something more serious. “I’m going to teach her a lesson for messing with you.”
I frowned.
I studied his face carefully, trying to determine just how dramatic this “lesson” was going to be. With Callahan, it could range anywhere from mildly humiliating to devastatingly brutal.
“Callahan,” I said slowly, “the ball is for charity.”
“I know.”
“And you're planning revenge.”
“Also true.”
I tilted my head. “You see how those two things might clash?”
He laughed quietly, clearly enjoying himself far more than he should.
“The press will be there,” I continued, crossing my arms. “Photographs, interviews, donors, society people pretending they care about saving the world while sipping champagne.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with how charity balls work. Don't worry, it won't get leaked by the media,” he clarified calmly. “Everything will happen after the press takes their photos and leaves.”
“So whatever you’re planning won’t happen until after the cameras are gone.”
“Exactly.”
“And you’re certain it won’t interfere with the charity itself?”
“Completely.”
I watched him for a few seconds longer, weighing his answer. The event had taken months of planning, and the last thing I wanted was for anything to ruin it. But if everything he planned happened after the official coverage ended, it wouldn’t technically affect the ball itself.
Finally, I sighed. “Well… as long as it doesn’t negatively affect the event, I suppose I can’t object.”
His smile widened slightly. “Good.”
I shook my head, curious about what he had planned, but knowing Callahan rarely shared details until the moment arrived.
“You’re being very mysterious about this,” I said.
“Patience,” he replied lightly.
Before I could question him further, he reached for me. His hand slid gently to the back of my neck as he pulled me toward him, and his lips met mine in a deep kiss.
Everything else faded away.
The room.
The conversation.
Even the lingering curiosity about Christina.
It was just him and the warmth of his lips against mine. The kiss was slow and deliberate, the kind that made it difficult to remember what we had been talking about seconds earlier. When he finally pulled back, I found myself blinking up at him.
“I have to go into the office for a bit,” he said.
“Now?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“There's a problem with one of our projects that can't wait.”
I nodded slowly.
“I’ll be getting ready at the office,” he continued. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
"Okay."
He gave me a final look before standing. “I’ll see you then. I'm looking forward to seeing your hair.”
I watched him as he walked toward the door and disappeared from the room. Once he was gone, the house felt noticeably quieter. I sat there for a moment longer before finally standing.
“Well,” I muttered softly, “I guess I should start getting ready too.”