Second Chance His Unending Love (Calista Hartwell) novel Chapter 121

Chapter 121

“Of course not!” Calista responded without hesitation.

She had only spoken those words yesterday to avoid further complications with Killian and Nicole.

“Olivia, don’t read too much into it. I was just giving your father an excuse. Mr. Hayes only invited us along last night because his family was pushing him about marriage —we were simply doing him a favor,” she reassured her daughter.

Olivia pouted, unconvinced. “But Mr. Hayes didn’t seem like he was pretending! And Sir and Madam Hayes were so kind to me.”

Could it really be, as Austin said, that the Hayes family was just being polite out of good manners?

Calista sighed, choosing not to answer the question directly.

After four decades of life, she understood how the world worked all too well.

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Evander’s parents might truly care for her and tolerate her past-but when marriage was involved, would they really accept everything she had been through?

“Come on. We shouldn’t keep Mr. Hayes waiting for his meal,” she said, taking Olivia’s hand.

She quickened her pace toward the hospital room.

Next door, Killian’s room stood adjacent to Evander’s.

Austin, hunched over his phone, spotted Calista from down the hall.

When he saw the large insulated food carrier in her hand, he couldn’t help but lick his lips, as if tasting a memory long gone.

It had been so long since he last ate Calista’s cooking.

The chefs at home either drowned the natural flavors in heavy seasoning or prepared dishes that were too soft, too tough, or simply unsatisfying.

Without the nourishing meals she used to make, every dinner felt incomplete.

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Something he had once taken for granted had become a distant luxury-and now he missed it, deeply.

He watched, longing in his eyes, as Calista walked straight into the neighboring room without so much as a glance in

his direction.

Austin had once declared he never wanted to eat her food

again.

And now, it seemed his words had come true.

He would probably never taste her cooking again.

*****

Inside Evander’s room, Calista paused in the doorway. Evander sat on the edge of the bed, shirt half-unbuttoned, his injured arm bared. The muscles lay taut against bone, clean and defined.

Her eyes lingered a moment too long before she caught herself, swallowing softly.

Noticing her gaze, Evander casually re-hooked his shirt

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and began fastening the buttons one by one.

“The nurse just finished changing the bandages,” he explained, his tone mild.

“Mm.” Calista stepped inside, cheeks faintly warm.

Olivia followed cheerfully. “Good morning, Mr. Hayes!”

She set the carrier on the table and started unpacking the

meal.

Moving closer to Calista, Evander noted the blush still coloring her cheeks. A playful impulse took over, and he lowered his voice.

“What’s wrong? Craving a late-night snack?”

Calista turned to face him in shock, catching the hint of mischief behind his calm expression.

She gritted her teeth lightly, then nodded. “Yes.”

For a moment, Evander was caught off guard.

His heart seemed to light up-bright, sparkling fireworks 4/9

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of joy, dazzling and sudden.

But then Calista added flatly, “With all that muscle you’ve built, it’d be a shame not to take a bite.”

Evander deflated instantly.

The fireworks vanished, his happiness lasting less than three seconds.

His attempt at flirting had clearly backfired.

Putting on a theatrically resigned look, he spread his arms slightly.

“Fine. If you’re really that interested, I’m all yours to do with as you please.”

Calista wished she could cover his nonsense-spouting

mouth.

“Enough! Go wash your hands and eat.”

A soft chuckle escaped Evander as he obediently headed toward the sink.

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The patient meals Calista prepared were both generous and balanced-thoughtful in their mix of protein and vegetables, nutritious yet full of flavor, perfectly suited for someone recovering in the hospital.

As Olivia unpacked the containers, arranging each dish/ carefully on the bedside table, Evander’s expression grew complicated.

A genuine ache settled in his chest.

“You’ve made meals like this many times before, haven’t you?” he asked.

He pressed his lips together briefly before adding, “Food like this… it looks simple, but it takes real skill. And patience.”

What had she been through, he wondered-from a sheltered young heiress who hardly knew her way around a kitchen, to someone who could prepare a whole table of delicious food without a second thought?

Had she ever cut her fingers on a sharp knife?

Been splattered by sizzling oil?

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Shed tears while chopping onions or hot peppers?

Calista’s heart skipped a beat.

No one had ever looked at her efforts this way.

She had indeed cooked countless patient meals.

From the time her children were small, through every illness or hospital stay the family faced, Calista had been the one responsible.

No matter how exhausting the vigil at a loved one’s bedside, she kept up the habit of preparing nourishing food herself.

Even Killian once remarked that Calista had “no real value in society” beyond what she could do at home.

Evander picked up his fork and took a slow bite.

Then he set it down, meeting her eyes squarely. “Calista, the hospital cafeteria already offers plenty of good options. You don’t need to go through all this trouble for

me.”

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