Page 100 of All of Me

She laughs softly but then leans back in her chair, her expression shifting to something more reflective. “Callie, it’s been nearly a year since your divorce party when I told you about Nick and me trying again. Don’t you think if it went anywhere, I would’ve told you?”

“Geez…” I blink, genuinely taken aback. “I guess I didn’t realize it’s been that long. I’m sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit lately?—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says quickly, brushing off my apology. “It’s not like it was some big, dramatic thing. We went on a couple of dates, but…” She trails off, biting her lip before letting out a sigh. “With all the history there, I don’t know. It felt like we were forcing something that wasn’t meant to work anymore.”

Her honesty hangs heavy in the air, and I can see the flicker of sadness in her eyes, even though she’s trying to downplay it.

“You don’t think you guys could’ve worked it out? For Ava?” I ask gently, careful not to push too hard.

Taylor shakes her head, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “I used to think that. For years, actually. But seeing him again… it just reminded me why we didn’t work the first time. Some things aren’t about trying harder or being different people. Some things just… aren’t meant to be.”

Her words stir something in me, a pang of guilt mixed with understanding. I’ve felt that weight before—the realization that love isn’t always enough, no matter how much you want it to be.

“I get that,” I say softly. “It must’ve been hard, though. For you. For Ava.”

“It was,” Taylor admits, her gaze dropping to the table. “But it would’ve been harder to pretend. Ava’s better off with two parents who can co-exist as friends than two parents stuck in a marriage they don’t want to be in. And honestly? So am I.”

I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “I’m proud of you,” I tell her. “For doing what’s best for you and Ava. That couldn’t have been easy.”

Taylor shrugs, her smile softening. “Sometimes the right thing isn’t easy. You know that as well as I do.”

I nod, her words striking a chord deep within me. “Yeah. I do.”

The tension I’ve been carrying eases for a moment, replaced by the understanding that we’ve both fought our own battles and come out stronger for it.

part three

TWO MONTHS LATER

thirty-six

SUGAR - MAROON 5

OWEN - JULY 20, 2014

The house smells like a combination of hemp and hot glue, a scent that’s somehow become comforting over the last couple of months as Callie pours herself into every detail of the wedding. She’s worked tirelessly, planning nearly everything on her own despite my repeated offers to help. She always gives me the same response: “I’ve got it under control, babe.”

Now, she’s at the dining table, her brow furrowed in concentration as she sprays a final layer of chalkboard paint onto a large poster board. She leans back, admiring her work before grabbing a piece of chalk to intricately write our names at the top, followed by the date of our wedding—less than a week away.

We decided on the Van Damme Hawkridge Estate for the venue, a place that holds so much sentimental value for Callie. It’s where she grew up, where so many of her happiest memories live. And, let’s be real, the price tag—or lack thereof—was a big selling point. You can’t beat free, especially when wedding budgets seem to evaporate faster than you can blink.

The vibe of the wedding is all Callie—rustic and charming with a touch of her quirky, alternative style. The centerpieces are scattered around the house in various stages of completion: mason jars wrapped in burlap and lace, each filled with wildflowers and eucalyptus. She’s even made the bouquets herself, crafting sunflowers out of burlap that somehow look better than the real thing. Every time I look at what she’s created, I’m amazed at her ability to take something simple and turn it into something extraordinary.

“That’s pretty impressive,” I say, leaning over her shoulder and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Are you sure there isn’t something I can do to help, Dollface?”

Callie looks up at me, her green eyes softening. A small smile tugs at her lips, and it’s the kind of smile that makes my chest feel like it might burst. “No, I’ve got it covered,” she says, her voice warm. “But what do you think of this one?”

She points to the poster she’s just finished, carefully setting it aside to let the paint dry. It tells our story—how we met, the twists and turns that brought us here. My eyes trace over the captions and photos, and my heart swells as I read the words she’s written:

It all started when he asked her what her five favorite bands were and promised to judge her for it. They talked for weeks and quickly became best friends until he lost his phone… but when they finally reconnected, his first words were, ‘What’s up, chick?’

“I see you’re leaving out the detail about what you were doing right before I texted you,” I say with a grin. She later confessed to me that she’d been testing out a new toy that day. A toy that we later played with together. I can’t help as my smile grows wider as the blush creeps up her neck.

She gasps, her cheeks flushing deep red, and she throws a playful backhand at my arm, hitting my bicep. “You hush!” she says, embarrassed but laughing.

“Just keeping it honest,” I tease, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

Callie rolls her eyes but softens as her gaze returns to the poster. “Do you think people will like it?”

---