Chapter 35 - Evania
A week after the charity ball, life had finally started to quiet down.
The first few days had been chaotic. News about what happened at the ball spread through social media and gossip circles like wildfire.
Apparently, public humiliation at a high-profile charity event made excellent entertainment for people who had nothing better to talk about.
Luckily, they didn't have evidence to prove it.
For the most part, I ignored it. I had better things to focus on.
Like surprising my husband.
The idea had come to me earlier that afternoon while I was looking through the photos from the ball and remembering his reaction to me that night.
Now I was sitting in the salon chair, watching my stylist carefully glide the flat iron down another section of my hair.
The heat sealed the strands into sleek, glossy perfection, and each pass made my hair fall smoother and shinier than the last.
When she finally finished, she turned the chair toward the mirror.
My hair fell straight down my back in soft, weightless movement. I lifted a hand, letting the strands slip through my fingers, and studied the result.
I couldn’t help smiling.
It had been a while since I’d worn it like this.
More importantly, Callahan had never seen it silk-pressed before.
The thought alone made my smile widen. He had been working late most of the week, buried in meetings and business calls, so I knew he wouldn’t expect me home early. The surprise would be even better that way.
By the time I left the salon, the sky had begun shifting toward evening. Warm gold sunlight softened everything. In the air lingered that calm, quiet feeling that came just before night settled in.
The entire drive home, I imagined Callahan’s reaction. He’d probably pause. Look at me twice. Then stare like he always did when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. That thought alone made me laugh softly.
When I pulled into the driveway, everything looked quiet. The house lights were on, but that wasn’t unusual. Maria sometimes left them on before leaving for the day. I slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind me.
I slipped off my shoes and walked farther inside, my hair swaying lightly against my back with each step. Then I heard the television and slowed.
So much for him working late.
A small smile tugged at my lips as I moved toward the living room.
Leaning back comfortably on the couch, he sat with a glass of water in one hand. His tie had been loosened, and his sleeves rolled slightly, giving him a relaxed look that he rarely allowed himself outside of home.
The glow from the television flickered across his face. He hadn’t noticed me yet, so I took another step forward. The floor creaked slightly beneath my foot, causing his head to turn immediately.
He gaped at me, clearly not expecting to see me standing there. He stood up quickly. Unfortunately, he was still holding the glass in his hand. The movement caused the water inside to slosh forward. I saw the droplets arc through the air a split second before they landed.
Right on my hair.
The silence that followed was almost impressive. His gaze moved slowly from my face to my hair and then back again; the horror on his face grew so quickly that it would have been funny if I hadn’t just spent hours getting my hair done.
I sighed and said, “The first rule when dating a black woman is to never touch her hair without permission, and the second is to never get her hair wet.”
His expression shifted instantly from shock to panic.
“Oh no,” he mumbled. “I’m so sorry.”
He looked like someone had just informed him he accidentally destroyed a priceless artifact. Calmly, I walked past him, grabbed the towel draped over the back of the couch, and wrapped it around my hair.
“It’s fine.”
He looked even more confused. “It is?”
I secured the towel and glanced back at him. “I still have your card. I think I’ve earned a shopping spree in Barnes and Noble, you know, to handle the emotional distress,” I teased.
Relief flooded his face so quickly it was almost dramatic.
“Whatever you want, Firefly. As long as you aren’t mad at me.”
The nickname made a small smile creep across my face before I could stop it.
I walked over to the couch and sat down, reaching for the remote.
Callahan remained standing for a moment, still watching me carefully like he expected me to suddenly explode. When I looked up at him, he immediately looked guilty again.
I arched a brow. “You’re still apologizing in your head, aren’t you?”
“You were trying to surprise me.”
I paused. “Maybe.”
“And the first thing I did was ruin it.”
“You’re really committed to that word.”
“Because it fits.”
I picked a movie and pressed play. Soft music filled the room as the opening scene began, and the television lights flickered across the walls, casting a calm glow.
Callahan shifted slightly beside me before gently taking my hand. The gesture was careful, almost hesitant. Like he was still testing whether I was secretly upset. I squeezed his fingers lightly.
He glanced at me. “You’re really not mad?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. In fact, I think we should talk about our wedding.”
Callahan watched the screen for another second before leaning back. “Our wedding planning will be chaos.”
“Controlled chaos.”
He laughed softly. “Those are the same thing.”
I rested my chin on my hand as I watched the screen again. “A grand wedding does sound nice.”
Callahan’s gaze shifted back to me. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“What would it look like?”
I thought about that for a moment. Something elegant. Warm lights. Flowers everywhere. Music that filled the entire room. And Callahan would stand at the end of the aisle, looking at me the way he always did. Like I hung the moon and the stars.
I didn’t say any of that out loud.
Instead, I shrugged lightly. “Big.”
He chuckled. “That’s very descriptive.”
“I try.”
The movie continued playing, but our conversation had clearly drifted away from it now. Callahan was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “You’d look amazing in a wedding dress.”
My gaze shifted to him slowly. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugged slightly. “I just do. You look stunning in anything you wear.”
I studied him for a moment. “You’ve thought about it.”
His eyes flicked toward me again. “Maybe.”
“That’s cute.”
“I’m allowed to imagine things.”
“Like what?”
His gaze lingered on my face. “ Like how much I love you.”
The words seemed to settle into the room before either of us fully processed them. Callahan froze. He stared at me, only now realizing what he said out loud. For the first time since I met him, Callahan Sterling looked genuinely caught off guard.
Silence filled the living room, the television continuing to play quietly in the background—completely forgotten now. He looked like he was about to say something else, probably something that involved backtracking.
I didn’t give him the chance.
“You know,” I said calmly, “I picked a nickname for you a while ago.”
He paused. “What?”
“A nickname.”
His brows pulled together. “What nickname?”
I shifted so I was facing him more fully now. “My love.”
The confusion on his face deepened. “Why?”
I studied him for a moment before answering. “Because love was the first word that came to mind when I thought about you. What I'm trying to say is I'm in love with you.”
The silence that followed felt very different from the one before. His expression softened slowly, something warm and quiet settling into his eyes. The same look that he always stared at me with, then he kissed me.