If she was going to be anyone’s private chef this summer, she was going to be mine. I wish I could explain why I feel this way, but I can’t. It’s incredibly frustrating because this never happens. It’s a foreign thing to me. I hold my tongue from admitting to her that to me…it does feel right. What doesn’t feel right is having her call me by my full name. It feels too formal…too impersonal. “Call me Cal.” She tucks a piece of her dark hair behind her ear. “You said at dinner to call you Callahan.” “I didn’t say that to you. You can call me Cal.”
