Calliope was clapping for Oliver like a maniac, her excitement impossible to miss.
“Wow! That was amazing!” she cheered.
“Old man, who knew you were this flexible!”
“Seriously, you’re incredible!”
“You could give the lead dancers on Broadway a run for their money!”
“If we put this video online, you’d go viral for sure!”
Calliope’s applause and praise poured down like a summer rain on a very mortified Oliver. His face turned an alarming shade of green.
“Don’t you dare!” Oliver barked.
Calliope feigned confusion. “You want me to post it now? Okay! I’ll do it right away!”
Oliver spluttered in disbelief. He shot a desperate look at Silas, but Silas just stood there, totally stoic, not even a twitch of sympathy on his face.
A little distance away, Norton couldn’t hold back a laugh. The whole scene was just too ridiculous, especially knowing it was Callie’s handiwork. The more he thought about it, the more delighted he became. That was Callie for you, never one to take things lying down.
Uriah was grinning too; he was pretty sure Calliope had orchestrated this. Oliver, who always acted like he was king of the world, had definitely not seen this coming. Who knew Calliope could humble him so thoroughly?
It felt like Oliver had been dancing forever before he finally slowed down, wobbling with exhaustion.
Then, with a dramatic flop, he did a full split right there on the hardwood floor, wincing in agony.
As the involuntary dancing faded, he let out a half-crazed yell, “What the hell did you do to me, witch? Did you cast a spell on me?!”
“That’s right, I did,” Calliope replied with a straight face. “And unless you eat a piece of chocolate bunny poop, you’ll be dancing like this every day at the same time!”
Meanwhile, inside the room.
Calliope glanced at Silas. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
She had obviously gone out of her way to prank Oliver.
“Why would I be mad?” Silas replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You were standing up for me. I couldn’t be happier. Honestly, you’re the best person in my life, other than Eamon, of course.”
He pulled her into a hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
She smelled faintly of vanilla and milk—his favorite scent. No matter how upset he was, holding her close always made him feel calmer.
Seeing Oliver always brought back memories of his mother, and that was never easy.
“But I’m your wife. It’s my job to have your back,” Calliope said with a soft smile, ruffling his hair. “Don’t be sad. What I used on Oliver was just a mild neurotoxin,” she whispered conspiratorially. “It made him lose control of his body for a bit, but it’s nothing serious. And the whole ‘bunny poop’ thing? Total bluff. After everything he did to you and your mom, he had it coming. I just wanted a little payback!”
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