Page 2 of All of Me

Owen,

By the time you read this, I’ll already be at the estate. I know you’ll tease me later for being superstitious, but it’s our wedding day!

I’ve waited for this moment, dreamed about it more times than I can count. But no dream could ever compare to the reality of us. Today, I get to walk toward you, toward the life we’ve built and the future we’re creating together. I still can’t believe how lucky I am to love you and to be loved by you.

So, you know the deal—don’t come looking for me until I’m walking down that aisle. Stay out of trouble and save some of those nerves for me, because I’m feeling them too. It’s going to be perfect, not because everything will go off without a hitch, but because at the end of the day, I’ll finally be your wife.

I love you more than words could ever say. You will forever be my always.

Always,

Callie

P.S. Thank you for last night. It was incredible.

My wife. Almost.

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. Even now, she knows exactly what I need to hear. The way she anticipates my every thought, my every doubt, it’s like she’s in my head. I carefully fold the note, running my thumb over the words, trying to absorb them. She’s always had this way of grounding me, even in moments like this—when everything feels too big, too overwhelming. I place the note back down on the nightstand, a small smile tugging at my lips. The weight in my chest lifts, replaced by something warmer, steadier.

It’s crazy how much I miss her already, and she’s only been gone a few hours. That’s the thing about Callie—her presence fills every room, every space. Without her here now, the emptiness feels more pronounced, like part of me is missing. But she’s right—it’s going to be perfect. Today is going to be everything we’ve waited for, everything we’ve worked toward. All the late nights, the long talks, the moments when we didn’t know if we’d make it this far. They lead us here, to this day.

The door creaks open, breaking through my thoughts. I turn to see Barrett standing in the doorway, his pajamas wrinkled, his brown hair a mess. He’s rubbing his eyes, still half-asleep. Without saying a word, he toddles over to the bed and climbs in beside me. Instinctively, I pull him close, wrapping my arm around him. He snuggles into my side, warm and solid, his small body fitting perfectly against mine.

“Is today the day?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah, buddy. Today’s the day,” I reply, brushing a hand through his tousled hair.

He sighs, content, and burrows deeper into the blankets, his little hands gripping the edge of my shirt. For a moment, everything else fades away—the anticipation, the nerves, the enormity of what’s to come. Right now, it’s just me and my son, sharing this quiet moment before the world shifts around us.

I glance down at him, taking in the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. My thoughts drift back to everything we’ve been through in the last year or so, everything that’s happened since Callie and I decided to build this life together. The ups and downs, the challenges we’ve faced, and the joy that’s come with it has been a whirlwind. Through it all, we’ve found this rhythm, this sense of family that feels so right.

I think about Callie’s girls Sara and Ruby—how much they’ve changed me, how much I’ve come to love them. It feels like they were destined to be in my life. The thought fills me with a kind of pride I can’t put into words. Those two beautiful girls have shown me what it means to love unconditionally. After today, I will officially be their bonus dad.

Today isn’t just about me and Callie. It’s about all five of us. Our family. I never thought I’d get to this point, where I’d feel so sure, and so excited about the future. But here we are, on the edge of something incredible. Something that will change our lives forever.

Barrett shifts beside me, his little face pressed against my chest, and I hold him a little tighter. Today is going to be a big day.

As I bask in this tranquil state, I am overcome with a newfound clarity. The remnants of doubt and uncertainty dissipate, replaced by a profound sense of purpose. I realize that my dream was not merely a figment of my imagination, but rather a guiding light, illuminating the path ahead.

With every breath I take, I am reminded that I am not alone on this journey. My uncle’s presence, though physically absent, resonates within me, urging me to embrace every opportunity, to chase my dreams with unwavering determination. This sense of tranquility becomes my anchor, grounding me amidst the turbulence of life’s challenges. I find solace in the knowledge that I am exactly where I am meant to be, on the precipice of greatness, ready to unfold the chapters of my destiny.

part one

NINE MONTHS EARLIER

one

YOU’RE GONNA BE - REBA MCENTIRE

CALLIE - OCTOBER 31, 2013

Ishift on the hospital bed, trying to find a more comfortable position for my raw, aching body. My gaze moves to Ruby, fast asleep in her bassinet, her tiny fingers curled into delicate little fists. She’s so peaceful. Completely unaware of the world around her, the world that feels far too quiet right now. Her breathing is steady, each tiny rise and fall of her chest mesmerizing in its rhythm.

Owen’s been gone for, what, forty-five minutes? Maybe fifty? Already, the room feels different. Rather than feeling like the walls are closing in around me, it feels like the walls have expanded somehow, pushing everything further away from me. My fingers fidget with the edge of the hospital blanket, twisting it as I glance at the door. I catch myself doing it and stop, forcing my hands to rest flat on the bed. I know it’s stupid. I should be able to handle a few hours without him hovering nearby, but the anxiety gnaws at me. I’ve never liked hospitals; there’s something about them that makes my skin crawl. The sterile walls, the antiseptic smell, the endless waiting – all of it contributes to my discomfort. After the complications and trauma from giving birth to Ruby yesterday, it’s so much worse.

She wasn’t breathing when she came out because she swallowed fluid. It is the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. Thankfully, she’s okay and they don’t believe there will be any long-term complications, but I still catch myself checking her breathing every few seconds. Each time I lean forward to confirm she’s fine, my pulse slows slightly, but never completely.

I hate that I feel so alone right now… The tension in my chest tightens as I shift again, glancing toward the bassinet. I know Owen had to leave, but that doesn’t make the ache of his absence any easier. I take a deep breath, reminding myself why Owen needed to go. Barrett has been counting down the days until Halloween, excited for Owen to take him trick-or-treating. They do it every year, and I know how much it means to both of them. I couldn’t let my nerves keep Owen here, but deep down, I wish he had fought harder to stay. The thought feels selfish, so I push it aside.

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