His smile softened. "Good. I did too."
We walked out together into the night, the cool air brushing against my skin. The city felt quieter now, calmer. He didn't let go of my hand, and I didn't want him to.
"Thank you for paying for dinner," I said after a moment.
"You don't have to thank me," he glanced at me. "But you're welcome."
We walked a few more steps before he slowed, then stopped. I looked up at him, confused for a second—until I saw the playful expression on his face.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"Of course."
He gestured to a brightly lit shop a few buildings away. "Do you want ice cream?"
"Yes," I said, without a second thought.
I didn't think much of it when Callahan gently steered me away from the sidewalk and toward his car.
If anything, I assumed he'd forgotten something. The evening was calm, the air warm but not heavy, and the soft rustle of my brown wrap dress followed me as I walked beside him. My heels clicked rhythmically against the pavement, a sound I'd long since learned to tune out.
"Just a second," he said, stopping beside the passenger door.
I turned toward him, curiosity flickering through me. "Did you forget something?"
He didn't answer at first. Instead, his gaze dropped—slow, deliberate—down to my feet, then back up, lingering longer than necessary.
"You look beautiful," he said quietly.
The words landed with more weight than I expected. I felt my shoulders straighten instinctively, my pulse picking up. "Thank you," I replied, my voice softer than intended.
"That dress," he continued, gesturing vaguely at me, "the color—it brings out the hazel in your eyes. I don't think I've noticed how much before."
I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. I'd worn this dress countless times. No one had ever commented on my eyes because of it. Before I could respond, he reached onto the passenger seat of his car and pulled out a small paper bag.
"I wanted to give you something," he said.
My brows knit together. "Callahan-"
"I don't want you walking any farther in those heels," he added gently, as if he sensed my hesitation. "I don't want you hurting yourself."
He opened the bag and revealed a pair of slides—simple, understated, unmistakably new. For a long moment, I couldn't speak. I just stared at him. At the slides. The way he held themmade it feel like it wasn't some grand gesture but something completely natural to him.
Something warm unfurled in my chest, spreading slowly, steadily, until it left me breathless. I couldn't remember the last time someone had thought about my comfort without being prompted. Without expecting praise or repayment.
I said nothing—not because I didn't appreciate it, but because my thoughts tangled together too tightly to unravel into words.
Callahan's expression shifted the longer I remained silent. "Oh," he said, concern creeping into his voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."
"No," I said quickly, reaching out. I grabbed the bag from his hands before he could take it away. He froze, surprise flickering across his face. "I'm not offended," I assured him, clutching the bag like it might disappear if I let go. "I just wasn't expecting this."
He studied me carefully. "Are you sure?"
I nodded, a small laugh escaping me. "I was too stunned to say anything. That's all."
His shoulders relaxed slightly, relief evident. "I don't want to overstep."
"I think it's thoughtful," I said honestly. "More than thoughtful, actually."
