Page 94 of Love You Madly

Noted.

Fuck, this girl is going to give me a run for my money, but neither of us was ready for the night to end at the restaurant.

Unlocking the door to my apartment, I feel excitement and nerves thrumming through me. As I push open the door, I gesture for Callie to step inside first. Her eyes widen with curiosity as she takes in the minor details of my apartment. It’s a modest space, but seeing her here makes it feel special. I follow her in, the weight of the night’s emotions settling around us like a cozy blanket.

It feels right having her here in my space.

“Make yourself at home,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. As I watch her walk into the living room, I am certain that I have never seen a more beautiful pregnant woman in my life. I also cannot help but notice how amazing her ass looks, even in the flowing sundress. I’m trying to remember why the hell I have that three-date rule. It might be time to revise the rulebook on that one.

Callie turns to me with a smile that reaches her eyes. Her fucking dimples will be my undoing; I’m sure of it. The hint of amethyst in her eyes catches the dim light, and this really feels like a dream.

“Your place is really nice,” she says.

I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s home for now. I’m planning to move out once the landlord finds a new tenant. I hope to move back to Cedar Bluff before Barrett enters kindergarten.”

Her eyes light up at this news. “Really? That’s great news! It’ll be nice for you to be closer to your son. I cannot imagine how hard it must be not living there with him.”

I nod, but inside, I am conflicted. Moving back to Cedar Bluff will put me even further away from Callie, and I wonder what that will mean for our new relationship. But I have to do it for Barrett. He needs stability, and I need to be closer to him as he starts school, or I won’t be able to keep my current visitation schedule with him.

We settle on the couch, and I can feel the tension crackling between us. I want to reach out, pull her close, and lose myself. Everything about us is unconventional–she’s dealing with a divorce and her pregnancy–yet I can’t shake the feeling that this is exactly where I belong.

God, I want nothing more right now than to feel her against me.

“Do you want something to drink?” I offer, standing upquickly, maybe too quickly. “I have water or Diet Coke from my mom babysitting Barrett.”

“Water is fine,” she says, her voice soft–almost like she’s becoming shy. I head to the kitchen, taking a moment to collect myself as I fill two glasses with ice and water. When I return, she’s looking at the photos on the wall–pictures of my family, some of Uncle Teddy. Her fingers trace the frame of one photo, her expression unreadable.

“That’s my Uncle Teddy,” I say, handing her a glass. “He was… well, he meant a lot to me.”

She takes the glass, her eyes meeting mine with understanding. “You’ve mentioned him before. He sounds like a great man.”

“He really was.” I sit back down, closer this time. “I miss him every day.”

“I’m happy we did this tonight,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

“Me too.” I reach out, taking her hand in mine. Her fingers are soft, her touch grounding me in the moment. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Callie. I’m sorry I ever thought that we wouldn’t work because of the distance. But I am really glad that it gave us the opportunity to get to know each other without the pressure of dating.”

“I completely agree. I think everything worked out exactly like it was supposed to.” She smiles, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I’m really sorry about the other day. I know we need to take things slow, but… it’s hard.”

“That’s what she said.” I laugh, the sound easing the tension. “Tell me about it. But I think we’re doing okay. One step at a time, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, squeezing my hand. We sit like that for a while, just holding hands and talking. Everything feels so naturalbetween us.

She snuggles closer to me and we decide to watch reruns of That 70’s Show. We sit there cuddled together, and I swear I can feel all the tension in my body melting away.

Midway through an episode, Callie chuckles. “You know, I’m pretty sure if I were a sitcom mom, I’d be Kitty Forman,” she laughs. “Minus the cooking.”

“Guess that makes me the grumpy old man of the relationship, huh?”

“Yep! Right down to the ugly green recliner,” she says, nodding in the direction of the old La-Z-Boy recliner Mom bought for me as a teenager that I can’t seem to let go of.

“Fine by me.” I laugh, remembering my comment outside the restaurant earlier. “Guess that little nickname is going to come in handy after all.”

“You’re something else, Owen.” She giggles, her cheeks turning pink.

As the episode plays, I find myself more focused on her than on the show. I love the way she laughs and the way her body fits perfectly against mine. My thoughts drift, but I can’t ignore the electricity between us, the way her hands feel in mine, and the warmth of her body pressed close.

During the third episode, I feel her breathing slow and her body relax completely. A soft whimper escapes her lips, and I realize she’s fallen asleep. I gently shift her so she’s more comfortable, careful not to wake her.

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