HEART AND HEARTH

CHAPTER SEVEN 

IAN'S POV 

It must be nice to be wealthy—completely, effortlessly affluent. Sliding into the plush leather seat of Callum’s sports car made my rusted bicycle feel like a relic from another century.

As he accelerated onto the main road, I caught the reflection of a dark, tinted sedan pulling out from the side alley behind us, matching our speed second for second.

"Hey, Cal?" I asked softly, peering through the side mirror. Vehicles like that were a rare sight in this poverty-stricken area. "Is it normal for a black SUV to follow you every time you leave your house?"

He checked the rearview mirror, his hands tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned pale. "What the heck is the old man pulling again?" he muttered, his voice laced with sudden anger.

I shrank back into my seat, the easy banter we’d shared back at the house evaporating in an instant. The shadow of his powerful family had just caught up to us, and for the first time, I realized that being in Callum's inner circle came with a target on your back.

"No pressure—that's just my dad's handiwork," Cal said, his voice dropping into a controlled exhale as he tapped a few buttons on the dash screen. "He wants me safe, you know? I'm his only child, so he's constantly keeping tabs on me for 'security purposes.' They'll be gone in a second, no need to panic."

He gave me a reassuring look, and sure enough, when I glanced back into the side mirror a moment later, the dark SUV had quietly taken a turn and vanished into traffic.

In less than three minutes—and after I gave him a few quick directions—we pulled up right in front of my grandmother's restaurant.

"We're here," I told him, unbuckling my seatbelt and stepping out onto the pavement first.

The familiar scent of grilled spices and simmering broth hit me immediately, a stark contrast to the sterile, expensive smell of Cal's luxury car. I turned back to grab my cleaning supplies from the trunk, but Cal was already out of the driver's seat, popping the back open before I could even reach for the handle.

"You really don't have to play doorman, golden boy," I chuckled, taking the mop bucket from his hands.

"Force of habit," he replied, looking up at the faded neon sign above the diner with genuine curiosity. "So... this is where the magic happens?"

"Yes, obviously. But you've got to cut me some slack—she's going to be furious about how late I am," I said, quickening my pace toward the front entrance.

Cal just chuckled, following right behind me. "Lead the way, then. I'll act as your human shield if she starts throwing spatulas."

I pushed open the door, the bell above chiming softly as the warm, chaotic energy of the diner wrapped around us. My grandmother was behind the counter, frantically wiping down a table while barked orders toward the kitchen. 

The second her eyes landed on me, her expression shifted from busy stress to pure exasperation.

"Ian! Where on earth have you—" She froze, her gaze darting from the mop bucket in my hand to the impeccably dressed, strikingly handsome guy standing casually at my shoulder.

Nonnie, hear me out before you blow a fuse," I blurted out quickly, gesturing between her and Cal.

"Callum, meet Nonnie," I said, pointing between them. "Nonnie, this is Callum—your late old friend Nana's grandson. You know... the de Witt heir."

Nonnie froze mid-swipe with her dish rag, her eyes softening as she scanned Callum from his tailored shirt down to his polished shoes. The tense edge in the air melted into a warm, lingering nostalgia.

"Callum," he introduced himself smoothly, offering a respectful, gentle smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Nana used to talk about you and this diner all the time."

"Callum..." Nonnie repeated softly, setting her rag down and coming around the counter. A fond smile spread across her weathered face as she took him in. "Look at you. You have her eyes, you know that? She spoke about you every single day when she worked with us. I miss her dearly."

Callum's posture relaxed, a genuine warmth replacing his usual guarded composure. "She missed you too. She always said your kitchen felt more like home than anywhere else."

Nonnie patted his shoulder affectionately before turning her sharp eyes onto me, her voice instantly switching back to her classic playful scolding. "Ian, why didn't you tell me you were bringing her grandson here? You put those supplies away and get him a proper meal right now!"

"On it," I muttered, shaking my head. "But what about me? I need to eat before going to the library, Nonnie," I whined softly, rubbing my stomach.

"Did I say you weren't eating? Set two plates, go wash up, and serve our guest properly. Hurry along!"

Cal couldn't hide his smirk as he slid into one of the vinyl booths, clearly enjoying seeing the red-carpet treatment rolled out for him. "You heard her, Ian," he murmured as I walked past, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Don't keep your Nana's best friend waiting.”

I ducked into the kitchen, quickly washing my hands at the sink while grabbing two heavy stoneware plates. Through the order window, I could see Nonnie setting down two tall glasses of ice water on Cal's table, already using her warmest "customer service" persona.

"So, Callum," Nonnie’s voice drifted back to me over the hum of the kitchen exhaust. "Your grandmother was the finest woman I ever had the privilege of working alongside. She treated me like family, and she used to boast about you until my ears practically bled. You look so much like her, you know."

Cal’s eyes softened, a quiet, genuine smile touching his lips. "She talked about you just as much, Nonnie. She always told me your cooking had more heart in it than anywhere else in town."

"She was a sweet soul," Nonnie said softly, waving a hand with a gentle sigh before brightening up. "But speaking of you boys, how did my grandson manage to drag you all the way into my humble little diner on a random afternoon?"

Cal glanced toward the order window, his smirk returning. "Honestly, I think I was the one dragging him. He was trying to clean an entire house on an empty stomach."

"Hmph! Sounds like him," she huffed, though her tone softened completely. "Always trying to carry the world on his shoulders before breakfast."

I slid back through the kitchen door, carrying two steaming plates stacked high with Nonnie’s signature roasted chicken, buttered rice, and savory pan gravy. I set the larger plate directly in front of Cal, the mouthwatering aroma filling the booth immediately.

"Here you go, VIP guest," I said under my breath, sliding into the seat opposite him.

Cal stared down at the food, his usual composed demeanor wavering for a fraction of a second. He picked up his fork, took a small bite, and instantly went quiet.

"Well?" Nonnie asked, leaning against the adjacent counter with her arms crossed, watching him like a hawk.

"This is..." Cal swallowed, looking up at her with ……..