Page 69 of All of Me

CALLIE - APRIL 17, 2014

The drive down to New Orleans stretches on forever, fourteen hours in the van with two kids under two-years-old. No amount of playlists or snacks can make that feel short. We leave Hawkridge late in the evening, after Owen got off work and took a shower. I offer to drive the first leg of the trip so he can get some sleep, but he shakes his head like he’s already made a decision on how the drive is going to go.

“You know I love to drive,” he says, sliding into the driver’s seat and adjusting the mirrors. I guess that means there’s no room for debate. “I’m definitely not letting you stress out about the semis the whole way. Just sit back, relax, and let me handle it.”

The way he says it makes me feel safe, like he’s thought of everything before I even have the chance to stress about it.

“You’ve been working all day,” I press, leaning against the passenger door as I watch him settle in, clicking his seatbelt. “You’ll be tired by the time we hit the halfway mark.”

“I’m fine,” he says, his voice calm as his hand brushes mine on the console. He leans over to kiss my forehead. “Trust me, I’ve got this. If I need you to drive at some point, I’ll let you know, I swear. I would never do anything to put my favorite girls in danger.”

That gets me, the way he always includes the girls in moments like this, like they are a part of him now too. I suppose they are. I manage a small smile, leaning back into my seat as he starts the engine. “Okay, but if you feel too tired, you promise to pull over?”

He looks at me and holds out his pinky finger. “Promise,” he says as I loop my pinky with his. “Now, sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Ruby falls asleep almost immediately, her little hands tucked under her chin in her car seat, while Sara hums to herself in the back, flipping through a small stack of books I packed for her. The hum of the engine is steady, leaving me to watch the headlights cut through the dark, winding highway.

Owen wasn’t exaggerating when he said he loves to drive. There’s something almost meditative about the way his hands stay relaxed on the wheel, his gaze focused. Every now and then, I catch him glancing in the rearview mirror, checking on the girls or maybe just soaking in the fact that this is his life now. It makes my heart ache in the best way.

The playlist I queued up before we left shifts from soft rock to something more upbeat, and I find myself singing quietly along to the lyrics. I don’t have a great voice—no one in my family does—but it’s one of those things I’ve always done without thinking.

Owen doesn’t sing. He never does. Even now, when I see the corner of his mouth twitch at one of my off-key notes, he stays silent, though his fingers tap out a rhythm on the steering wheel.

“You know you can join in,” I tease, glancing over at him.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Not happening.”

“Come on. I’m pretty sure Sara isn’t even paying attention,” I say, motioning toward the back where Sara is busy pointing out random shapes in the darkness outside her window.

“That’s a hard pass,” he replies, his grin widening. “You’re doing fine on your own.”

I roll my eyes but keep singing, my voice filling the van. The girls finally settle into a deep sleep, and the hum of the engine is the only sound filling the space between us. My thoughts drift back to Barrett.

“I wish Barrett could’ve come,” I say, breaking the silence. My voice is soft, but it’s enough to pull Owen’s attention from the road.

“Me too,” he says after a beat, his tone quiet. His fingers flex slightly on the wheel. “It doesn’t feel right without him, does it?”

I shake my head, staring at the dark silhouettes of trees rushing past. “No. I know Sabrina wants him there for the wedding, and I get it—I do—but I miss him.”

Owen’s hand reaches across the console, finding mine. His thumb brushes over my knuckles. The familiar warmth of his presence settles in my chest.

“We’ll bring him next time,” he says. “Just the four of us. Maybe even a weeklong trip. He’d love it.”

That thought makes me smile. “Yeah, he would.”

“Then it’s settled,” he says, his tone resolute, like he’s made a promise he intends to keep.

The hours roll on, and Owen keeps the energy up, pointing out quirky billboards advertising giant roadside attractions or strange tourist traps. He even humors Sara’s insistence that Ally the stuffed alligator, her new road trip buddy, is magic and can make the van go faster.

It’s not until we pull into a gas station around midnight that I realize how much time has passed. Owen still looks as focused and at ease as he did when we left Hawkridge. He grabs snacks from the convenience store and finds a tiny keychain that Sara can add to her growing collection.

The road is long, but Owen makes it feel like an adventure. By the time we finally pull into my dad’s driveway in the early morning hours, I’m half-asleep, the girls are restless but happy, and Owen looks like he could keep going for another fourteen hours if he had to. My stepmother Shelly greets us at the door, her smile bright and warm. “You made it!” she says, holding the door open as Sara bolts out of the van toward her. “I was starting to worry.”

“Just a long drive,” I say, stepping out of the van and stretching, my legs stiff from sitting so long in one spot. “I’m tempted to lay down for a nap, but I don’t want to sleep the day away and mess up our sleep schedules. I’d rather just grab a Red Bull and ride it out.”

As I speak, the front door swings open, and Shelly steps outside, her face lighting up the moment she sees us. Her gaze shifts to Owen, and I suddenly realize this is the first time they’re meeting in person.

“You must be Owen!” she says warmly, stepping forward with open arms. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

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