Twenty-Two
twenty-two
MARRY YOU - brUNO MARS
OWEN - DECEMBER 24, 2013
T he house is quiet when we return home from picking up the girls. The December chill melts away as we step inside. Sara is snuggled into my chest, fast asleep with her bunny clutched tightly in her tiny hands. Callie has Ruby’s car seat in one hand, the baby still snoozing peacefully, while Barrett trudges sleepily beside us, dragging his blanket like a little ghost.
“I’m so full,” Barrett mumbles, his voice thick with exhaustion. “Can I skip brushing my teeth tonight?”
“Nice try, buddy,” I say with a chuckle, nudging him toward the bathroom. “Teeth, pajamas, then bed. No shortcuts.”
He groans but doesn’t argue, his little feet shuffling down the hall toward the bathroom. Callie gives me a tired smile as she sets Ruby’s car seat down near the crib in the girls’ shared room.
We work together quietly, getting the kids settled. Sara barely stirs as I lay her in her crib, her bunny still clutched tight. Ruby lets out a tiny sigh before nestling deeper into her swaddle. Barrett is the last to go down, his eyes already drooping as I tuck him into his race car bed, his favorite dragon blanket pulled up to his chin.
“Goodnight, buddy,” I whisper, smoothing his hair.
“Night, Dad,” he murmurs, already half-asleep.
When I step into the hallway, Callie is standing in the doorway to the girls’ room, her arms crossed loosely as she watches the girls sleep. Her hair falls in soft waves around her face, and there’s a glow about her in the warm night light that makes my chest tighten.
“You good?” I ask quietly, stepping closer.
She nods, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “I love this part of the day. When they’re all safe and asleep, and the house is quiet.”
I press a kiss to her temple, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Me too.”
Down the hall, the soft hum of the dishwasher fills the background as we set to work. Callie and I move like a team, pulling bags of presents from the closet in the laundry room and arranging them beneath the tree. Stockings are filled with chocolates, little toys, and a few surprises we managed to keep secret from curious little eyes.
Callie crouches near the tree, carefully arranging Barrett’s new airplane set and a dollhouse Sara’s going to lose her mind over when she sees it in the morning. She hums softly under her breath, a tune I can’t quite place, but the sound is soothing.
“Santa really outdid himself this year,” I tease, holding up a wrapped package. “Think he’ll leave us something too?”
Callie glances back at me, smirking. “Santa’s broke, so probably not.”
I laugh, setting the gift down before stepping closer to her. “Well, if I were Santa, I’d leave something for you. Maybe a spa day. Or one of those fancy coffee machines you’ve been eyeing.”
She shakes her head with a laugh, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “You’re sweet, but you being here is enough. Really.”
I tilt her chin up so she’s looking at me. “You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw you giving the Keurig at Target some serious bedroom eyes last week.”
She laughs again, her cheeks flushing. “Okay, maybe. But only if you promise not to use it for hot chocolate. That’s sacrilege.”
“Deal.”
We finish arranging the gifts, the glow of the tree lights reflecting off the shiny wrapping paper. Callie steps back, her hands on her hips as she surveys our work.
“It looks good,” she says, a hint of pride in her voice.
“It looks perfect,” I correct, wrapping an arm around her waist.
She leans her head against my shoulder, and for a moment, everything feels still and right. The chaos of the day melts away, leaving just us and the quiet magic of the night.
I lean down, brushing a kiss against her temple. She tilts her head up, her eyes meeting mine in the dim light of the Christmas tree. Her warm, mischievous gaze pulls me in completely.
“You know,” she says, her voice dropping, “it’s been a while since we had a little time to ourselves.”
I smirk, tightening my arm around her waist. “Are you suggesting we do something other than fall asleep on the couch?”
She laughs, her fingers playing with the collar of my shirt. “I’m suggesting we make the most of this moment before one of the kids wakes up.”
I don’t need more encouragement. I lift her effortlessly into my arms, and she squeals softly, smacking my shoulder.
“Owen! You’re going to wake the kids!”
“Not if we’re quiet,” I tease, carrying her to the couch and setting her down gently. “You can be a good girl for me, can’t you?”
She pulls me down with her, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that’s soft at first but quickly deepens. My hand slides to her waist, her warmth seeping through the fabric of her sweater as I trace lazy circles with my thumb.
The world narrows to just the two of us, the glow of the Christmas lights casting her in a golden hue.
“Don’t let me fall asleep on the couch,” she murmurs against my lips, her voice breathless.
I chuckle, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “Trust me, keeping you awake is the plan.”
Her laughter is soft and sweet, and I kiss her again, savoring every second of this peaceful moment.
The faint sound of giggles pulls me from sleep. At first, I think it’s part of a dream, but then it grows louder, accompanied by the unmistakable patter of tiny feet. A groggy smile tugs at my lips as I realize what’s happening. Christmas morning. The kids are awake.
Next to me, Callie stirs, her hair a tangle on the pillow as she blinks up at me. “What time is it?” she mumbles.
I grab my phone from the nightstand, squinting at the screen. “Six-thirty,” I say, groaning. “I was hoping for at least another hour.”
Callie chuckles, stretching lazily. “You and me both.”
The door bursts open, and Barrett comes charging in, his face lit with excitement. “Santa came!” he announces, bouncing at the foot of the bed. “There are presents everywhere! And Sara’s trying to open them already!”
Callie sits up, rubbing her eyes. “She’s trying to open them without us?” she teases, mock outrage in her voice.
Barrett nods earnestly, his curls flopping into his eyes. “She was ripping the paper, but I told her to stop. She said, ‘Owie help,’ but I said, ‘No, we have to wait for your Mommy and my Dad!’”
Callie and I exchange a look, barely holding back laughter. Sara’s been calling me “Owie” lately, much to Barrett’s delight. It’s a mix of endearing and hilarious, especially when she switches back to “Dad” without realizing it.
“Well, good job keeping her in check, buddy,” I say, ruffling his hair. “Let’s go rescue the presents before she tears through all of them.”
Callie pulls on her robe as I swing my legs out of bed, both of us trying to shake off the sleep. Barrett leads the charge down the hallway, his energy contagious even at this ungodly hour.
When we step into the living room, the chaos begins. Sara is crouched in front of the tree, her little hands on a brightly wrapped box as she looks up at us with a triumphant grin. “Owie! Look!” she declares, pointing at the gift like she’s just uncovered treasure.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” Callie says, scooping her up and peppering her cheeks with kisses. Sara giggles, squirming in her arms. “We have to wait until everyone’s here.”
Ruby, already awake in her bassinet, lets out a soft coo, her little fists waving in the air. I scoop her up, cradling her against my chest as she blinks sleepily at the twinkling lights on the tree. “Morning, princess,” I murmur. “You ready for your first Christmas?”
Barrett is already at the tree, carefully sorting through the presents and reading the tags aloud. “This one’s for me! And this one’s for Sara! Ooh, this one’s for Ruby!” He pauses, holding up a smaller package with a grin. “And this one’s for you, Dad!”
“Santa knows I’ve been good, huh?” I tease, setting Ruby in Callie’s arms before joining Barrett by the tree.
He shrugs. “Probably.”
Callie laughs, settling onto the couch with Ruby and Sara. “Alright, Mr. Santa Helper, why don’t you pass out the gifts?”
Barrett takes his job seriously, delivering each present with the precision of an assembly line worker. Sara gets the first one, a doll from her grandparents, and squeals with delight as she clutches it to her chest. “Baby!” she declares, hugging it tightly.
“That’s right, baby,” Callie says, her voice full of warmth. “What are you going to name her?”
“Baby,” Sara repeats with a determined nod.
“Solid choice,” I say, earning a laugh from Callie.
Barrett tears into his airplane set next, his eyes lighting up as he pulls the pieces from the box. “It’s so cool! I’m going to build it right now!”
“Breakfast first,” Callie says firmly, though she’s smiling. “Then you can build it.”
Ruby watches the chaos with wide eyes, her tiny hands flailing as if she’s trying to join in. Callie leans down, kissing the top of her head. “Next year, sweet girl,” she whispers. “Next year you’ll be right in the middle of it.”
We spend the morning opening gifts, the living room quickly becoming a sea of bows and wrapping paper. Barrett insists on helping Sara with her packages, though his “help” mostly consists of ripping the paper while she protests. Callie sits cross-legged on the floor, snapping pictures of everything, her laugh filling the room every time Barrett says something ridiculous.
At one point, Sara toddles over to me, her doll in one hand and her blanket in the other. She climbs into my lap, curling against my chest with a contented sigh. “Owie,” she murmurs, patting my arm.
My heart swells, and I glance over at Callie, who’s watching us with an expression I can’t quite describe. Love, maybe. Gratitude. Whatever it is, it makes me feel like the luckiest guy in the world.
When the gifts are all unwrapped and the kids are busy playing, I lean back on the couch, pulling Callie into my side. “Merry Christmas, dollface,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Merry Christmas,” she murmurs back, her head resting against my shoulder.
The chaos, the mess, the early wake-up call—it’s all worth it. These are the moments I’ll hold onto forever, the ones that remind me what it’s all about.
This Christmas, I feel like I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted.
After the kids are finally settled in their room for nap time, the house falls blissfully quiet. Callie is curled up on the couch with Ruby in her arms, the baby finally drifting off after a spirited morning of being passed around like a tiny Christmas celebrity. I linger in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of breakfast and wiping down the counters, when my phone buzzes on the table.
Luke:
Merry Christmas, boys. Did everyone survive the morning chaos?
I grin, picking up my phone and leaning against the counter as I type.
Me:
Barely. Barrett woke us up at 6:30, and Sara tried to open half the presents before we got to the living room. But yeah, we survived. You?
Will:
I don’t even know what time it is. Haven’t had coffee yet. Send help.
Vince:
My kid woke me up by jumping on my stomach. It was super festive.
I laugh under my breath, the sound drawing Callie’s attention. She glances over, a curious smile on her lips. “What’s so funny?”
“Group chat,” I say, holding up my phone.
She rolls her eyes affectionately. “Tell the guys Merry Christmas from me.”
I relay her message before Luke chimes in again.
Luke:
Alright, real talk—who got the worst gift this year?
Will:
My mom gave me a sweater with a reindeer on it. It has bells. Actual bells.
Me:
Pics or it didn’t happen.
Will:
Hell no.
Luke:
I got socks. Again.
Vince:
That’s classic Dad gear.
Luke:
Yeah, but I’m not even a dad!
I’m mid-reply when Vince’s next message pops up, cutting through the banter like a wrecking ball.
Vince:
So, when are you proposing to Callie?
The air seems to shift around me, the weight of the question hitting harder than I expect. My thumb hovers over the keyboard, my mind suddenly crowded with thoughts I haven’t quite sorted out.
“Everything okay?” Callie asks, tilting her head.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, setting my phone face-down on the counter. “Just the guys being nosy.”
She narrows her eyes playfully. “Tell them to behave.”
I chuckle, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I’ll try, but you know how they are.”
When I pick my phone back up, the chat has already exploded.
Will:
Whoa, Vince just went there.
Luke:
Don’t dodge the question, Owen. Spill.
I sigh, running a hand over the top of my head. No way am I getting out of this one.
Me:
I’ve been thinking about it.
Vince:
And?
Me:
And I was planning to do it soon. But after last night… I don’t know.
Will:
What happened last night?
Luke:
Yeah, what’d you do?
Me:
I didn’t do anything. Callie was late dropping the girls off with Adam, and things got heated. Turns out, he was planning to propose to Katie in front of her family.
Vince:
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Will:
That guy’s a tool.
Luke:
What does that have to do with your proposal?
Me:
I don’t want Callie to think I’m only proposing because Adam proposed.
There’s a long pause in the chat, and for a moment, I wonder if they’ve all gone off to refill their coffee mugs. Then Vince replies.
Vince:
That’s dumb.
Me:
Thanks for the support.
Will:
No, he’s right. It’s dumb.
Luke:
You’re not Adam. You and Callie aren’t them.
Vince:
Exactly. If you want to propose, do it. Callie knows you. She knows your heart. She knows you wouldn’t do something like that just because her ex is getting married.
I look over at Callie again, her head resting against the back of the couch as she strokes Ruby’s soft hair. The sight makes my chest tighten, my earlier hesitation fading.
Me:
It just doesn’t feel like the right time. I want it to be special. For her.
Will:
Fair.
Luke:
But don’t overthink it, man. Callie’s crazy about you.
Me:
Noted.
The conversation shifts back to lighter topics—plans for the rest of the day, jokes about who’s going to eat the most ham at dinner—but my thoughts stay with Callie. My replies in the group chat become more automatic, my thumbs moving out of habit rather than focus.
I know the guys are right. It’s not about Adam or anyone else. It’s about her, about us, and about what we’re building together. I bought a ring already, weeks ago. It’s tucked away in a pair of socks in my dresser. I know I want to take this next step, I but can’t seem to find the right moment.
I’ve pictured it so many times: her face when I ask, the way her eyes would light up, the slight catch in her breath before she says yes. But now, I’m afraid that proposing too soon, after everything with Adam, would cast doubt on my intentions. Would she see it for what it is? Or would she think I was trying to prove something, to overshadow her past?
I pocket my phone, willing the questions to the back of my mind as I step into the living room. Callie is still on the couch, Ruby cradled in her arms. The baby’s tiny fingers clutch at her blanket, her soft breaths a soothing rhythm against the quiet hum of the heater.
“What’d they say?” Callie asks, glancing up at me, her voice light and curious.
I force a grin, sliding onto the couch beside her. “Nothing important,” I say, trying to sound as easygoing as possible. “Just giving me a hard time, as usual.”
Her lips curve into a small smile as she leans her head on my shoulder. The warmth of her touch settles me, grounding me in the moment. Ruby shifts in her arms, her little face scrunching briefly before relaxing again, her tiny body trusting and content.
“Everything okay?” Callie asks, her voice laced with quiet concern.
I wrap an arm around her, brushing a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah,” I say, my voice steady. And it’s true, with her next to me and Ruby nestled safely in her arms, everything feels like it should. Whatever doubts I have about timing or how to make it perfect, I’ll figure it out. It’ll be worth the wait.