Page 54 of Love You Madly

I force a laugh that feels too hollow. “Married and divorced. I have a little girl. Sara. She just turned one. And, uh… I’m pregnant with my second.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, I think I see something flicker in his gaze—surprise? Regret? He’s silent for just a beat too long, and I shift uncomfortably under the weight of his stare.

“Wow. That’s… a lot,” he finally says, and I can tell he’s scrambling to find the right words. “But you look happy.”

I give a half-hearted nod, knowing that "happy" is a stretch. “Yeah, I’m managing. Moving into my own place this week.”

It feels like an out-of-body experience, talking to him after all this time. Memories of my mom’s harsh lectures and the shame of losing my virginity so young flood back. It’s like I’m being pulled into a past I worked so hard to bury.

Matt’s gaze softens, and for a moment, it feels like we’re both standing at the edge of something we used to know but can’t quite grasp anymore. “So, are you… seeing anyone?” His voice is casual, but the question hangs between us, heavy with the weight of what-ifs.

“I’m figuring things out,” I say, thinking of Owen. God, why am I thinking about Owen right now?We’re just friends.

Matt chuckles, but there’s an edge to it. “Well, it’s good to see you, Callie. Maybe we can catch up properly sometime?”

The invitation lingers, and I hesitate. Seeing him has stirred up things I wasn’t ready to feel again. But those days are long gone. I’m not that girl anymore.

“Maybe,” I reply, not committing to anything.

He leans in for a hug, and I freeze for a second, unsure of how to feel. His scent—clean, grown-up, a far cry from the Axe body spray he used to wear—fills my lungs as his arms wrap around me. For a moment, it feels like old times, a brief flash of nostalgia that makes my heart clench. But as quickly as it happens, it’s over, and he’s pulling away, flashing that same playful grin that used to make me melt.

“I’ll see you around, pretty girl,” he says with a wink, before walking out the door, leaving me standing there like a ghost of my former self. That old nickname hits me harder than I would have expected.

As the door swings shut behind him, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Everything feels too loud—the hiss of the espresso machine, the chatter of customers—and I can’t shake the feeling that the ground has shifted beneath me. Memories and emotions crash over me in waves, and I find myself gripping the counter for stability.

I turn back to the task at hand, wiping down the counter with more force than necessary, trying to push it all down. But I can’t. Seeing Matt again has stirred something in me, something I thought I’d buried long ago. The ache of missed opportunities, the question of what could have been if things had gone differently.

The door chimes again, and I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the present. I can’t live in the past. Not anymore.

twenty-two

IMPOSSIBLE - JAMES ARTHUR

OWEN - JUNE 6, 2013

By Wednesday, I’m restless, caught between the pull of two worlds.

On one hand, there’s Callie—always at the back of my mind, her smile a ghost I can’t shake. On the other, there’s Karissa, whose flirtatious glances and casual conversations have become a tempting distraction. I’m telling myself the only way to shake off Callie is to explore other possibilities. It’s a lie I desperately want to believe.

“So, Karissa,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel, “how about we grab coffee after work sometime?”

She smiles, her lips curling up in a way that makes my stomach twist. “I’d like that, Owen. Friday sound good?”

I nod, feeling a tight knot in my chest. I should be excited, right? But as I walk back to the mechanical room, the buzz of it all fades when I think about Callie. Why is it always her?

Back at work, Will’s leaning against a pipe, a smirk plastered on his face. “So, did you ask her out yet?” He’s beenteasing me about Karissa for days, his eyes glinting with amusement every time we’re in the same room together.

“Yeah,” I say, forcing a grin, “just coffee. Nothing big.”

“Just coffee, huh?” Will waggles his eyebrows. “Remember, chicks dig guys with a sense of humor. Tell her about our TV show idea—'Hospital Maintenance Heroes.’”

I laugh, trying to bury the unease clawing at me. “You’re impossible, man.”

As we head to our next task, I send Mom a text to ask if she would mind running Barrett back to Cedar Bluff Friday night for me so that I can grab coffee with a friend after work, promising to pay for the gas.

Will starts humming a dramatic tune. “Next time on ‘Hospital Maintenance Heroes’–Will Owen and his date ignite a fire that sets off the sprinkler systems?”

The rest of the day is a blur of tools clanking, steam hissing, and my mind wanders to Callie. Even though we’ve talked less, I can’t help but think about her. Hell, maybe that’s why I asked Karissa out. To push Callie out of my mind.

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