Page 83 of All of Me

Barrett isn’t just Owen’s son. He’s mine too—in every way that matters. He’s part of our family, and I’ll be damned if anyone tries to tell me otherwise.

The room feels heavier than before, the earlier peace shattered. I press my lips together, willing myself to calm down as the weight of Shelly’s words settles over me. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the lingering sting of her assumption—that love can be measured, divided into neat little categories.

It’s not true. It never will be.

I glance toward the kitchen, where Shelly is still sitting, her head bowed slightly as she fiddles with the ribbons on the baskets. I don’t care if she meant well. Some things can’t be excused.

In a way, I feel betrayed. Aside from the fact that Shelly just doubted my love for the little boy I feel in my heart is my own, she also confirmed that she never loved me and Taylor like her own. And that hurts more than I ever imagined it would.

thirty

FACE DOWN - THE RED JUMPSUIT APPARATUS

OWEN - APRIL 20, 2014

Easter at Edward’s house is everything I imagined it would be, loud, chaotic, and deeply rooted in tradition. The yard hums with activity as kids race around in search of eggs while the adults swap stories and good-natured ribbing over plates of food. The smell of barbecue mingles with the scent of blooming azaleas, creating an atmosphere that’s almost too perfect. Almost.

Ruby has been passed around like the honorary centerpiece, her little head bobbing sleepily from one adoring relative to the next. Sara, meanwhile, has already managed to cover her pink Easter dress in grass stains and chocolate smudges, her basket overflowing with brightly colored eggs. Every now and then, she races up to me, her face flushed with excitement as she shows off her latest find. Her happiness is infectious, but even her energy can’t distract me from the lingering knot in my stomach.

Callie’s family is… a lot. PawPaw’s booming laugh cuts through the noise like a foghorn, and Mrs. Brenda fusses over everyone like she’s got a mental checklist of who hasn’t eaten enough. Savannah, her eldest stepsister, lounges on the porch swing, looking vaguely bored as she scrolls through her phone. Brad, her boyfriend, leans against the fence, fiddling with a folding knife, opening and closing it absently like he’s trying to entertain himself. Then there’s Lana, the youngest stepsister, flitting around the yard with an easy smile, her laugh bright and frequent as she keeps conversations flowing.

It’s not that they’re unwelcoming, far from it, but there’s an undercurrent of tension I can’t quite put my finger on, like everyone is waiting for something to happen. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s the anticipation of knowing what Callie and I are about to share, and the hope that her family will embrace it without question.

Callie moves through the yard like she’s in her element, her laughter floating on the breeze as she chats with her family and keeps tabs on Sara. Every now and then, her gaze flicks to me, and there’s something behind her smile that looks like nerves, like she’s feeling the same thing I am.

When the food has been eaten, the kids have sorted through their candy, and conversations have settled into easy chatter, Callie nudges me lightly with her elbow.

"You ready?" she murmurs, her fingers brushing against mine.

I nod, exhaling slowly as she pulls a small stack of envelopes from her pocket.

"Hey, before everyone gets too comfortable," she says, raising her voice just enough to catch attention, "we have a little something for y’all."

She starts handing out the envelopes, one to each person gathered around. There’s a moment of curiosity—Mrs. Brenda peeks at Callie over the rim of her glasses, and Lana shakes her envelope like she can guess what’s inside.

PawPaw holds his up to the light dramatically. “Now, this better not be ‘nother damn ultrasound picture.” He squints at me, wagging the envelope. “Boy, ain’t ya figured out yet what causes that?”

A few of the cousins bust out laughing, and Mrs. Brenda smacks him lightly on the arm. “Hush now, you behave,” she scolds, shaking her head.

Callie rolls her eyes. “Just open the card, PawPaw.”

One by one, everyone tears into their envelopes. A beat of silence follows, then laughter erupts as they take in the bold lettering on the front of the card: ‘Shit’s about to get real, we’re getting married!’

PawPaw lets out a loud, “Well, I’ll be damned! ‘Bout time somebody had the sense to lock this girl down. Welcome to the family, Owen—Lord knows you gon’ need all the luck ya can get!” His grin stretches from ear to ear, his voice carrying a warmth that cuts through the tension like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Laughter ripples through the group, and a few of Callie’s cousins cheer while Mrs. Brenda clasps her hands together, her face lighting up with delight. Savannah and Lana exchange surprised looks, their smiles genuine. Lana immediately pulls Callie into a hug.

“Oh my God, you’re getting married! Can I help plan? I love weddings!”

Callie laughs. “We’ll see.”

Savannah smirks. “I’m just relieved it’s not another baby.”

Callie shoots her a look but doesn’t take the bait.

Shelly doesn’t say anything, her expression unreadable as she busies herself adjusting Ruby’s sun hat. Unlike the others, she just stares at the card, her fingers smoothing over the edges as if she’s thinking too hard about it. The lack of reaction makes my stomach tighten.

Why isn’t Shelly speaking up? She’s usually quick to chime in with some over-the-top excitement, but now? Nothing.

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