Leave it to April to come up with reasonable, sound arguments. I hate her brain right now. So inconvenient.
April carries on loudly, “We’re going to order food, have a wonderful time, and that will be it. Everyone got it?” Liam and I do a poor job at suppressing our laughter at the tiny human bossing everyone around. At leastIpretend to cough.
“Excuse me, get your hands off me.”
I hear Callie before I see her—storming through the restaurant, a woman on a mission. Loud, dramatic, and absolutely loving it.
“Calista is joining us?” I ask.
Just kill me now. With that butter knife. It will be less painful than this dinner.
CHAPTER NINE
preston
Her lips curl into a smirk,eyes glinting with bad intentions as she makes an entrance the whole restaurant hears. Behind her, a wide-eyed busser scrambles to keep up, tripping over his own feet, his face a mashup of panic, mortification, and puberty. “Ma’am, if you could just wait a second…” he pants, reaching toward her coat.
Callie gasps, spinning to face him. “My God.Do I need a restraining order?” She clutches her chest, mock-offended, then drops it in a blink and grins. “Kidding, babe. Relax.”
The poor kid freezes, torn between terror and confusion, and she takes full advantage, giving him a wink and a pinch to the cheek. “Damn, you’re adorable. What are they feeding you back there?”
He turns a spectacular shade of crimson, and I lean on the chair for a better view of the young man’s soul leaving his body.
“I’m with the owner.” She jerks her chin toward us. “Big guy, billionaire energy flashing in neon? That one, right there.” She’s almost at our table now, half the restaurantwatching, and I know two things for certain: one, she hasn’t noticed; two, she wouldn’t give a single fuck if she had.
She reaches us with a self-satisfied grin. “Babes, what’s going on? I could hear you from the damn door.” She plants a hand on her hip. “If you’re going to cause a scene, the least you could do is wait for me, the ringmaster.” Naturally, she’d want a privileged view of my public humiliation.
Liam smothers a grin, pretending he isn’t thoroughly entertained. “Calista, dear. Lovely to see you. But I don’t own this restaurant.”
“Yeah.” She laughs. “Emphasis onthis. But hey, I played the odds, and they were in my favor.”
The waiter, who looks like he could use a moment to recover, pulls out a chair for her.
“Aren’t you a sweetie?” She winks at her latest victim. “Thanks, babes.” She pats his cheek, light and teasing, and instead of taking it as an insult the way most men would if a woman did this to them, the kid beams, as though she’s just knighted him. I call it the ‘Callie effect’.
Calista is made of bone, flesh, and raw, magnetic charisma. She drives me up a wall—we bicker as much as siblings—but she’s loyal to the bone. She and April are my chosen family. When I could barely stand, Callie stepped in without hesitation, doing everything her hospital shifts allowed to help me and Lily. She kept me—kept us—going.
The poor waiter is still there, holding the chair, waiting for her to sit. But Callie doesn’t.
Her gaze locks onto Mia.
I watch as her grin sharpens, her eyes glinting withsomething dangerous. I know that look. And if I know her well—which I do—this night’s about to get worse.
For me, of course.
“Mia,” she states. Not a question. A verdict.
My friend and colleague purrs my nanny’s name. I think she's already made a decision about her. One I’m not bold enough to ask about tonight.
“Callie?” Mia’s voice holds a thread of hesitation. Her smile, though? That’s the real giveaway. There’s curiosity in it, challenge too. I guess she’s finally meeting the storm she’s only heard whispers about.
A headache brews behind my eyes as I watch them size each other up. Callie’s a lot for most people. But I’m afraid Mia might keep up.
Callie squeals, arms already flung open. “Welcome to New York, babes!”
Then, without hesitation, she wedges herself between our chairs, shoving her ass right into my face. “Fuck’s sake, Calista.” I push my chair back before I suffocate in overpriced fabric softener. “Do you want to take my seat?”
I’m already halfway up when she slams a vice grip on my shoulder and shoves me back down, barely breaking a sweat. Jesus. What is she benching these days?
