Twenty-Seven
twenty-seven
AT LAST - ETTA JAMES
CALLIE - APRIL 19, 2014
I wake up the next morning with a weightless feeling in my chest, like I’ve spent the whole night floating on clouds. The soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, painting the room in shades of gold and pink. Ruby’s soft coos come from the bassinet near the bed, and I glance over to see her stretching, her tiny fists punching the air.
Then it hits me all over again.
I’m engaged.
I lift my hand, staring at the black diamond that now graces my finger, the tiny white diamonds around it catching the morning light and scattering it like little stars. It’s perfect, more perfect than I could have imagined. Bold and unique, just like I always hoped it would be.
Beside me, Owen stirs, his arm draped over my waist tightening slightly as he pulls me closer. His breathing is still slow and steady, his face relaxed in sleep, and I take a moment to just watch him. The man who’s changed my life. The man I’m going to marry.
My heart swells so much it feels like it might burst, and before I can stop myself, I grab my phone from the nightstand. There’s no way I can keep this to myself any longer.
The first person I text is Taylor.
Me:
You awake?
Taylor:
It’s six a.m. on a Saturday. Why would I be?
I type back three words I never thought I would say again.
Me:
I’m getting married.
Taylor:
WHAT?! WHAT?! CALL ME RIGHT NOW!
I smother a laugh, glancing over at Owen to make sure I didn’t wake him. He doesn’t stir, so I type back quickly.
Me:
I can’t talk yet. Everyone’s still asleep. Just wanted to tell you.
Taylor:
I need every detail. Also, AHHHHHHHH!
Next, I send a message to Brooke.
Me:
Hey, I thought you should know… Owen proposed last night.
Brooke:
SHUT UP! Are you serious?! OMG, Callie, I’m so happy for you!!! Tell me everything!
Before I can respond to Brooke, my phone buzzes again with Taylor’s messages.
Taylor:
When did this happen?! How did this happen?! Did you cry? Did HE cry?
Taylor:
If you don’t send me pictures in the next five minutes, I’m driving over there.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud, my fingers flying across the screen to calm her down.
Me:
It happened last night. He did it in the backyard with the Polaroid camera. And yes, I cried. It was perfect.
When I turn around, Owen’s awake, his eyes soft and full of love.
“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, like the slow rumble of thunder on a summer day.
“Morning,” I whisper back, the warmth of his body drawing me closer. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air, mingling with the soft freshness of the morning. The scent feels like home now.
His hand finds mine, his fingers warm and steady as his thumb brushes over the ring. He lingers there, his touch reverent, like he’s still processing the sight of it. “You’ve been up for a while,” he teases, his tone light but full of familiar warmth that makes me feel seen.
“Just a little,” I admit, grinning despite myself. My cheeks flush as I glance at him, my voice dipping. “I may have texted Taylor and Brooke.”
He laughs softly, the sound low and rough in his chest, sending shivers down my spine. He leans over, pressing a kiss to my forehead, the simple gesture so tender it makes my breath catch. “Of course, you did,” he says, his lips curving into a sleepy smile.
“I couldn’t wait,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper as I shift closer to him. My fingers toy with the edge of the blanket, the weight of everything hitting me all over again. “I still can’t believe this is real.”
His hand tightens around mine, his grip firm and reassuring. “It’s real,” he says, his voice certain. His fingers thread through mine, grounding me in a way only he can. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”
The words settle deep in my chest, their warmth spreading outward like the rays of the morning sun. I let out a shaky breath, resting my head against his shoulder. His heartbeat is steady under my cheek, a quiet rhythm that syncs with mine, anchoring me in this moment.
For a while, we stay like this, wrapped in the stillness of the morning. Then his hand moves, sliding up my arm in a slow, deliberate motion that sends sparks racing along my skin.
I tilt my head to look at him, and the look in his eyes steals my breath. There’s heat there now, mingling with love, a slow-burning intensity that makes my pulse quicken.
“Callie,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower, rougher, like gravel smoothed by the weight of emotion. His fingers brush against my cheek, trailing down to my jaw as he tilts my face toward his.
My heart pounds, my skin buzzing with anticipation. The warmth of his touch spreads through me, melting away every ounce of restraint I thought I had.
I lean into him, my lips finding his in a soft kiss that quickly deepens. It’s like rediscovering something I thought I already knew, but finding it layered with more depth, more passion, more meaning. His hand slips to the small of my back, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.
The world narrows to just us—the press of his body against mine, the warmth of his hands as they trace lazy paths over my skin. Every touch, every kiss feels like a promise, a reminder that we’re building something unshakable together.
I run my fingers through his hair, savoring the way he sighs against my lips, the sound low and full of want. His hands drift lower, his touch firm and sure, and I feel myself sinking deeper into the moment, into him.
“Owen,” I whisper, his name a plea, a promise, a confession all at once.
“Callie,” he murmurs back, his voice thick with emotion as his forehead rests against mine. His breath brushes my lips, warm and steady. “You’re everything to me. Always.”
His hands move slowly, reverently, as if every inch of me deserves to be cherished. His lips find the curve of my jaw, trailing soft kisses that ignite a fire in my chest. My body responds instinctively, arching into him as his hands explore familiar territory with a tenderness that feels brand new.
The air between us is charged with unspoken words and uncontainable need. My hands slide down his back, feeling the strength in every muscle, the tension in his frame as he holds himself back just enough to make me feel like I’m the only thing that matters.
“God, I love you,” I murmur, the words spilling out without thought.
His breath catches, his lips pausing against my collarbone. He leans back to look at me, his eyes dark and full of sincerity, awe. “I love you too, Callie,” he says, his voice rough.
The rest of the world fades away, leaving just us in the soft glow of the morning. His touch, his words, his presence all wrap around me like a cocoon, safe and warm and unshakably certain.
His lips find mine again, softer this time, as though he’s savoring every second. His hand slides along my side, his touch sending goosebumps trailing across my skin. There’s no rush, no urgency, just the quiet, unspoken understanding that this moment is ours, that everything else can wait.
I press closer to him, my fingers tracing the familiar lines of his shoulders and down his arms. He’s solid and my heart swells as I take him in—every detail, every movement—knowing that this is the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with.
“Owen,” I whisper against his lips, my voice shaky with emotion. “I don’t even know how to put into words how much you mean to me.”
His forehead rests against mine, his breath warm against my cheek. “You don’t have to,” he says softly. “I see it. I feel it.” His fingers brush a stray curl from my face, tucking it gently behind my ear. “And I hope you know I feel the same. You, Sara, Ruby—you’re everything, Callie. Everything I didn’t know I needed.”
My chest tightens at his words, emotion welling up in my throat. “You’re everything to us too,” I manage, my voice thick. “You’ve made this life, our life, so much more than I ever thought it could be.”
The way he looks at me in that moment steals what little breath I have left. It’s not just love, it’s reverence, devotion, a promise that goes deeper than words.
He shifts slightly, rolling us so that I’m cradled beneath him, his weight comfortably pressing me into the mattress.. His hand slides along my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheek as his gaze holds mine.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. His lips trace a soft line along my temple, then down to my neck, where he lingers for a moment, his breath warm against my skin.
I close my eyes, letting myself feel everything—his touch, his words, the way his presence makes me feel safe and cherished and seen. My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer, needing him in a way that goes beyond physical.
“Owen,” I say again, his name a soft plea.
“I’m here,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my collarbone. “I’ve always got you.”
The tenderness in his voice, the way he moves with such care, it’s almost too much. My heart feels like it’s overflowing, spilling over with everything I’ve been holding in.
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I lose myself in the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his hands as they explore every inch of me, the way he makes me feel like the most important person in the world.
It’s slow, deliberate, every touch and kiss carries feelings we cannot put into words. When he finally pulls back, his hand cupping my face, I see in his eyes the promise of a lifetime together, the kind of love that doesn’t fade.
For a while, we just lie there, tangled together, the morning light spilling across the room and wrapping us in its warmth. There’s a quiet intimacy in the stillness, a sense that this moment belongs to us alone.
His fingers thread through mine again, brushing over the ring on my finger, I can’t help but smile. This is it. This is everything.