“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 theinformation 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.
