Page 69 of Love You Madly

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just focus on the water, watching the ripples as they move downstream, feeling a heavy weight settle over me. Josh’s words stick with me, though, making me see Karissa in a different light. Maybe she’s not just a party girl. Maybe there’s more to her story than I realized, and that realization makes me feel a mix of emotions. I'm not quite sure how to process–empathy, frustration, and a strange kind of guilt because maybe I judged her too quickly when we are still getting to know each other.

When we get back to the campsite around noon, Karissa is acting strange. The lively, confident woman I’ve gotten to know seems to have shrunk into herself, her shoulders hunched as she stares at the ground. She’s quiet, avoiding eye contact, and there’s a kind of heaviness about her like she’s carrying something she doesn’t know how to put down. I assume she’s just hungover and feeling guilty about how she acted the night before. The way her eyes dart away when I try to talk to her, the nervous way she fiddles with the hem of hershirt, it all makes me feel like there’s something she’s not telling me… maybe because she’s just not ready to. I don’t push it, figuring she needs space to process whatever’s happening in her head.

The rest of the day is uneventful, filled with mundane tasks of packing up and heading back home. As we drive, the silence between us is thick, uncomfortable. Karissa is still distant, her gaze fixed out the window, lost in thought. I try to shrug it off, telling myself that she just needs time to sort through her emotions… and probably her hangover.

twenty-seven

WHO KNEW - P!NK

CALLIE - JUNE 24, 2013

It’s been over a week since I last heard from Owen. Each day, the silence stretches longer, like a wound that refuses to heal. I stare at my phone more than I’d like to admit, checking for a message that never comes. Every vibration sends my heart into overdrive, only to face the same disappointment. Nothing. Not even a “Hey.”

I should have added him on social media, but I never thought it’d come to this. I don’t even know his last name.

I need to let him go. I know this. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier. And with everything else going on, maybe it’s for the best.

Sara grips my hand tightly as we walk into my mom’s house. She waddles along, her tiny feet pattering against the floor, making my heart swell with warmth. Lately, life feels like a blur. Work, exhaustion, and being pregnant with another child while trying to raise Sara on my own—it’s a lot.

“Mom, we’re here!” I call, releasing Sara’s hand as she toddles toward her grandma with a burst of giggles.

“Thanks for watching her,” I say as I bend down to kiss Sara’s cheek. “I’ve got my OB/GYN appointment, and well, I don’t think Sara’s going to be a fan of that."

Mom smiles at me, concern written in the lines of her face. “Take your time, sweetie. You look like you could use a breather.”

I nod, grateful for the small reprieve. The weight of everything is getting heavier, but hearing that steady heartbeat in the doctor's office—it brings it all back into focus. I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.

Later that evening, I’m at Matt’s place, cuddled up on his couch while we watchSweet Home Alabama.The movie feels oddly nostalgic, like it’s mirroring our own story—two people who drifted apart, only to circle back again.

Matt leans in a little closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You know, this movie always reminds me of us.”

I smile, a flicker of uncertainty creeping in. “Yeah. Do you think we could be like them?”

He grins, fingers brushing against mine. “Maybe we already are.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, but there’s a nagging feeling deep in my gut. Despite the chemistry, something feels off. But I let it slide as one kiss leads to another, and we end up in bed. It’s comforting, being with Matt again, but after he falls asleep, I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts swirling.

I slip out of bed quietly, my heart pounding with doubt. Was this a mistake? As I leave his place and drive back home, the weight of uncertainty presses down on me. It felt right in the moment, but now... nowI’m not so sure.

The next day, Matt’s behavior sets my instincts on high alert. He’s distant, dodging my questions, his attention glued to his phone. When I try to talk to him about it over coffee atBrooked & Brewed, he brushes me off with some weak excuse about work.

Matty Red Flag #1.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Yeah, just busy,” he says, barely meeting my gaze. The smile he gives me is hollow, a mask, and I know something’s wrong.

The sinking feeling in my chest deepens.

That night, Matt comes over to my apartment. I try to shake off the doubts. He’s been good to me, right? But as things heat up between us, just when we’re lost in the moment, his phone rings. He doesn’t just ignore it—he answers it.

“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath as he rolls over, turning his back to me, murmuring something to the person on the other end. My heart thuds in my chest, but I force myself to stay quiet. He’s acting strange, and I don’t like it.

When he finally hangs up, I ask, “Who was that?”

“A friend,” he says, avoiding my eyes.

Red Flag #2.

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