Page 79 of Love You Madly

Fuck.

Karissa must notice my distraction and gives me a concerned look. I explain I have a lot on my mind, trying to figure out how to handle this. The panic creeps its way up further and I realize I’m not going to be able to do this in the middle of the hospital cafeteria. When she tells me that she wants to take the next step in our relationship, it throws me a bit. We’ve only been dating for a month or so.

“I want to meet your son,” she says, her voice gentle yet firm. “And I’d like you to meet my daughters. We could get them together for a play date if you want.”

I take a deep breath, my mind racing. “Karissa, that’s not where I’m at right now.”

Her smile fades, replaced by a frown. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not ready for you to meet Barrett yet. It’s too soon,” I say, trying to be as gentle as possible. I want to end things with her completely but I can’t bring myself to do it here at work.

Her expression hardens, anger flashing in her eyes. “Too soon? We’ve been dating for a month, Owen. How much longer do you need?”

She’s joking, right?

The knot in my stomach tightens. “I just need to be sure before introducing Barrett to someone new.”

Karissa pushes her chair back abruptly and the harsh screech of the chair legs against the tile floor cuts through the air. “You know what? I’ve got enough on my plate myself and I don’t need to deal with your commitment issues right now.”

“Karissa, wait,” I say, reaching out to her, but she’s already storming off, leaving me sitting there, stunned.

Well, fuck.

I’m not looking forward to cleaning that mess up later.

After work, I meet the guys at the bar and I’m grateful that even Vince is able to come tonight. The familiar environment of Black N’ Gold and the laughter of friends provide a much-needed distraction. We talk about work, sports, and everything in between, the conversation flowing easily.

I’m in the middle of a story about a particularly tricky repair job when my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen and see a text from Callie.

Callie:

Hey, you drive a truck, right? You wanna help a pregnant bitch move this weekend?

I chuckle at her crassness. Callie sure has a way with words. Excusing myself, I step out onto the patio. Without giving it much thought, I dial her number. It’s time we actually spoke on the phone.

The fact that I’ve had a few beers is probably giving me a little liquid courage.

The phone rings a few times before she picks up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Callie,” I say, a smile spreading across my face. “So, you need help moving, huh?”

There’s a pause, and then I hear her laugh. “Yeah, I do. Didn’t expect you to call, though.”

“Figured it was about time we talked,” I reply. “Plus, I couldn’t resist the chance to hear your voice.”

Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.

“Well, here it is,” she says, a hint of amusement in her tone. “So, are you free this weekend?”

“I can make some time,” I say, wondering why I didn’t offer yesterday when we spoke. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Great,” she says. “I really appreciate it, Owen.”

“No problem at all,” I assure her. “So, what’s the plan?”

We spend the next few minutes discussing the logistics of the move. It feels good to hear her voice, to connect on a level beyond texts. By the time we hang up, I’m looking forward to the weekend.

I head back inside the bar, rejoining Will, Luke, and Vince at our table. The noise of the bar and the laughter of my friends providing a comforting backdrop as I slide back into my seat.

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