Page 130 of Love You Madly

ALL IN - LIFEHOUSE

OWEN - SEPTEMBER 19, 2013

Callie and I have been together for almost two months now, and it feels like we’ve naturally fallen into this rhythm that just works. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m not just treading water. Things aren’t perfect—they never are—but we’ve found a steady rhythm that works for us. We fit, and I didn’t realize how much I needed that until now.

The truth is, I wouldn’t trade any of it. Not the midnight snack runs, the trips to the drug store when she runs out of antacids, or the impromptu slow dancing in the kitchen just to make her smile. Not even the anxious moments where the weight of everything hits and we just sit quietly, knowing that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.

Given Callie’s cravings, I keep joking that the baby is probably made of pizza and ice cream. She laughs it off, but there’s a warmth in her eyes every time, like she’s glad I’m here for all the little things—even the silly ones.

I met Callie’s family last week. Her mom and stepdad, Rita and Wayne Morgan, welcomed me with open arms the first time I stepped into their home. Rita is warm in her own way, but there’s a formality to her that makes you feel like you’ve got to be on your best behavior. Her smile reminds me of Callie’s, though, and I can see where Callie gets her stubbornness from.

Wayne is a nice enough guy, a retired semi-pro football coach with a big personality that fills the room. He’s incredibly outgoing, the type of guy who greets you with a firm handshake and a story, making you feel like you’ve been friends for years even if you’ve just met. He’s aBearsfan, too, so we hit it off right away on that front.

Despite his energetic demeanor, there’s a certain frailty to him. Callie mentioned he’s diabetic, and you can see the toll it’s taken on his body; his movements are a little slower, and there’s a slight tremble in his hands. But none of that dims his spirit. He’s always buzzing around, making sure everyone is comfortable, cracking jokes, and telling stories that leave you chuckling.

When Barrett has come with us, they’ve welcomed him with open arms. Wayne even started a little tradition with my son, giving him a dollar every time he comes to see him, along with a few silly patterned neckties that Barrett loves to dress up with. Watching Barrett run up to Wayne, eyes bright with anticipation as he pockets the dollar and layers on those crazy ties, makes me realize how much the little things matter. Barrett would carefully drape each tie around his neck, his eyes shining with the thrill of these small but treasured gifts.

One thing was immediately clear—Wayne loves his stepdaughters as if they were his own, with no distinction between blood-related and blended. To him, family is family, and it shows in every little interaction. It’s like he’s made it hismission to be there for them, no matter what. And I hope that Callie will let me do the same for her daughters.

I met Callie’s older sister Taylor too, and I could tell right away that she’s fiercely protective of Callie, which I respected. Taylor has this spark—she’s vibrant, funny, and doesn’t shy away from speaking her mind. There’s a maternal side to Taylor, something I noticed early on. She told me about how they were home alone a lot as kids, with Wayne working long hours and Rita going back to school to be a teacher. Taylor had to step up, looking out for Callie in those early years, and you can still see that dynamic in their relationship.

During our first meeting, Taylor sized me up with a look that said she wasn’t going to just let any guy into her sister’s life, and I appreciated that. We ended up joking about the silly things Callie does, and by the end of the night, she was teasing me like we’d known each other for years.

It’s clear that the bond between Taylor and Callie runs deep. Seeing them together, sharing those inside jokes, and finishing each other’s sentences made me feel like I was getting a front-row seat to something special. There’s this unspoken understanding between them, a kind of closeness that goes beyond just being siblings—it’s like they’re each other’s anchor, rooted in all those years of leaning on one another.

In meeting Callie’s family, I saw how the laughter and warmth flowed so effortlessly, and I couldn’t help but feel like I’d found something I hadn’t realized I was missing.

A few days after meeting Callie’s parents, I stopped by the coffee shop to surprise her and had the chance to meet her bestfriend, Brooke. I was honestly surprised we hadn’t met sooner. But Callie says she’s busy with her business, her daughter, and dealing with an estranged ex-husband that no one ever talks about. Brooke gave me a warm welcome, and it didn’t take long for me to understand why she means so much to Callie.

When Callie told me Brooke owned the coffee shop where she worked, I didn’t think much of it—until I walked intoBrooked & Brewed. I pushed open the door to the shop, the bell chiming overhead, and was hit with the familiar, comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

When I saw the rows of coffee bags lining the shelves, I stopped in my tracks as I read the label:BB Coffee Co.It is the same brand I’ve been obsessed with for years, the one I swore by every morning to get me through the day. I picked up a bag, turning it over in my hands. It felt like one of those weird, serendipitous moments where everything lined up perfectly, like maybe the universe was giving me a sign that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I hadn’t realized that Brooke’s shop produced it because the shop didn’t carry the same brand name as the coffee. How did I not connectBrooked & BrewedwithBB Coffee Co.? It seemed so obvious now.

When Callie saw me standing there, holding the bag like I’d discovered some hidden treasure, she laughed so much it made her eyes crinkle at the corners, and her dimples pop. She shook her head, looking at me like I was the biggest nerd for getting so worked up over a few bags of coffee beans.

I looked around the shop, taking in the cozy corners where customers sipped their lattes and the faint hum of conversation mixed with the soft indie music playing in the background. Before Callie and I ever met, this shop was a part of my life, a part of my everyday routine. I just didn’t know it yet. It felt like more than just a coincidence—it felt like destiny, asthough my past aligned with my present, bringing everything full circle.

When we arrive at my dad’s house on Friday, I’m excited for Callie to see the house I grew up in. The outside looks mostly the same—a modest two-story place my dad has made some improvements to over the years. However, I know from previous visits the inside doesn’t resemble the home I grew up in anymore. Now, the walls are filled with photos of the life Dad rebuilt after he and Mom divorced. I try not to let it bother me even though this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

I take a deep breath, forcing a smile as I remind myself that tonight is supposed to be simple—a chance for Dad and Bev to meet the woman who has become such a huge part of my life. Still, the weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air. I haven’t mentioned her pregnancy yet because Callie and I wanted to explain in person. I just hope they give us the opportunity to do so without judgment. They know she’s a single mom, but I’m unsure how he’ll react to the news that the woman I’m dating is pregnant.

As if she can sense my hesitation, I feel Callie’s hand tighten in mine as we climb the front porch steps, Sara and Barrett following closely behind.

My stepmom makes it to the front door before we do and greets us with a warm but curious smile. “Owen, it’s great to see you,” she says, embracing me as we step inside. Her eyes linger on Callie’s belly before she offers her hand. “You must be Callie. I’ve heard so much about you.”

But apparently notenough. Sorry, Bev.

“It’s nice to meet you, Beverly. This is my daughter, Sara.” Callie smiles, but I can tell that she’s already uncomfortable.

As Beverly greets Sara and gives Barrett a hug, Dad steps out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. His gaze quickly shifts from me to Callie, and I feel the air tighten, waiting for him to say something.

“Dad, this is Callie,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “Callie, this is my dad, Henry. And, Dad, this is Callie’s daughter, Sara.”

Callie moves closer, confidently reaching out her hand. “Hello, Mr. Klein. It’s great to finally meet you.”

Dad shakes her hand, his grip firm, almost too firm, and he holds it a fraction longer than necessary, his eyes scanning her like she’s some kind of puzzle he’s trying to figure out. “Nice to meet you, Callie. And it’s Henry. No need for formalities.”

The casual way he greets her gives me a glimmer of hope that maybe tonight will go okay after all. But when Callie excuses herself to grab the drink she left in the car, I can feel a shift. The kids play with building blocks on the floor in the living room and I sit with Dad at the dining room table. The door barely clicks shut before Dad turns to me, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp as glass.

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