Extended Epilogue
LIKE I’M GONNA LOSE YOU - MEGHAN TRAINOR FEAT. JOHN LEGEND
OWEN - JULY 26, 2024
The fluorescent lights of The Superstore cast a bright glow over the store as Callie and I stroll inside. I didn’t think we’d be spending a part of our ten-year wedding anniversary here but, you know what they say, “Happy wife, happy life.” When they have a buy two, get one free sale, I cannot keep my wife out of here. Maybe it’s silly, but we love doing stuff like this together.
“You’re going to have to limit how many books I can buy because I don’t want to go too crazy. You know I have no shelf-control,” she says as we make our way back to her favorite part of the store.
I chuckle, she is still the most adorable person I’ve ever met even after all these years. “Did you just say ‘shelf-control?’”
She smiles at me, incredibly proud of her pun. “Yes, yes, I most certainly did.”
We make our way into the book aisles and she peruses the romance section. I hear her audibly squeal and, I shit you not, she starts jumping up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. I am nearly doubled over in laughter when I ask her, “I take it we like this book?”
She excitedly explains that one of her favorite authors got a deal with a publishing company and this is the first time she’s ever seen one of her books “in the wild,” whatever the hell that means. She places the book into the cart more carefully than she would handle a carton of eggs.
“You know what I wish?” she asks as she puts a few more books into the over-sized shopping cart. Her voice is soft, as if she’s thinking out loud.
I lean against the edge of one of the shelves, almost knocking an entire series off the endcap. I quickly cross my arms over my chest, acting like nothing happened. “What do you wish?” I ask, but she laughs at me. She saw my misstep.
“I wish that Cedar Bluff had a place like Brooke’s so that we didn’t have to come shopping at Target for books,” she says, still smiling as I fix the display I ruined. “But instead of the small collection of donated books at Brooked & Brewed, I want somewhere that carries books like this,” she holds up the book I now know to be written by Kate Stewart, “but it would be even cooler if they carried books from indie authors.”
“So… why don’t you open one?” I ask her.
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” I say, moving behind her and wrapping my arms around her while she adds yet another two books to the cart. I place a kiss on her cheek and rest my chin on her shoulder, looking at the shelves in front of us and imagining how cool it would be for my beautiful wife to have a bookstore of her very own.
I know Callie will never admit it, but she’s still struggling to decide what she wants to do professionally. After she had Remington, she went to interior design school. She absolutely loved it but it didn’t provide her with the stable income that she hoped for. After everything she went through in her first marriage, she refuses to not work since all of our kids are in school.
As it is now, she’s working for a corporation that pays well but it’s not a fulfilling job and I know she wishes she could do something that gives her more freedom to be creative. Project Management just isn’t exciting.
“You really think I could do that?” she asks and I can tell she’s struggling to contain her excitement, but the idea clearly terrifies her.
“It could be like an extension of Brooke’s place,” I offer, knowing that Brooke’s coffee is the best coffee I’ve ever had. The idea of being able to have it fresh again like I did when Callie worked at Brooked & Brewed when we first met is probably more exciting to me than it should be.
“Man, that would be a throwback, huh? I’d have to dust off the old apron and remember how to make all those drinks again,” she says with a laugh. “Or… maybe I would hire someone to do that part and I’ll stick to the books. I don’t need a repeat of the disasters of Coffee-mas past.”
“You could totally open a bookstore in Cedar Bluff,” I encourage her, hoping she will really consider this idea.
Her lips part as if she’s going to argue, but then she hesitates. “It’s… a nice idea,” she says finally, her voice cautious, “But what if it doesn’t work?”
“It will,” I say firmly. “If anyone can make it work, it’s you.”
Her eyes soften, and she gives me the smile that always knocks the air out of my lungs. “You really think I could do it?”
“I know you could do it,” I reply.
She shakes her head, laughing softly. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“Yeah, unbelievably right!” I tease, turning her around to face me and placing a kiss on the top of her forehead. “Besides, with your design background and coffee shop experience, it will be the coziest bookstore ever and everyone will love it.”
“Warm and cozy on one side, dark and sexy on the other,” she ponders.
“Yes, of course. You and your smut books need the perfect environment to suit your mood.”
“It’s not smut, it’s cliterature!” she exclaims, a little too loudly. An older couple rounds the corner by the bibles, looking at us with wide eyes as my wife immediately clamps her hand over her mouth, completely mortified.
“You’ve got this, babe.” I assure her after the couple has scampered off. “Oh my gosh! You could totally put up curtains and put up a big ‘adults only’ sign before people enter that part of the store. Like they used to do at Family Video before it closed down!”
“It’s not porn, babe!” she slaps her hand against my chest and shakes her head.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. It’s cliterature, but either way, you don’t want kids in there and trying to buy books they have no business looking at just because it has an illustrated cover,” I explain, letting her go so she can browse the books for a little bit longer.
“People are going to think I have a hidden sex club back there or something,” she laughs, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
I smirk, leaning in slightly. “Now there’s an idea.”
Her finger snaps up, pointing at me in mock warning. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Too late,” I say, shrugging innocently, my grin widening.
She groans, shaking her head. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
“And yet, you keep me around,” I tease. “Must be love.”
“Obviously,” she fires back, her tone dripping with sarcasm, though the small smile on her lips gives her away. “Now, let’s get out of here before I spend all your money.”
“Our money,” I correct, gently taking her hand and lacing my fingers with hers. “And honestly, if it makes you smile like that, spend away.”
She glances at me, her expression softening. “Careful, Mr. Klein. Keep talking like that, and we aren’t going to make it to dinner. You’ll have to take me home.”
“I think you’re the one that needs to be careful now,” I say, lowering my voice and giving her a teasing smirk. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. I already had you in bed once today—might have to make it twice.”
We do, in fact, make it to dinner but only after I assure her that I have plans for her when we get home. Her cheeks are flushed after fooling around in the car on the way here. She fixes her lipstick before I get out and walk around to open her car door for her.
“Always the gentleman,” she says playfully as she steps out of the vehicle.
The cozy elegance of Magnolia’s wraps around us like a warm hug. We’ve been coming here for years now after discovering the restaurant on our third wedding anniversary. Callie also surprised me with a party here as well to celebrate my fortieth birthday a few years ago. She really shocked me with it too, because I thought for sure my surprise was her arranging for my best friend from middle school and his wife to fly up to see me. We’ve never had a bad time at Magnolia’s and the owner, Lisa, always gives us free dessert–the perks of her having a catering business on the side.
The soft glow of the candlelight on the table, the hum of quiet conversation around us, and the tantalizing aromas wafting in from the kitchen make it impossible not to feel special here. Once we are settled at the table, I marvel again at just how beautiful Callie is. Her black dress highlights her every curve, her hair pinned up in a way that makes her neck look delectable. She’s swirling water absentmindedly in her glass, a small smile playing on her lips as she studies the menu, trying to decide on something new. That’s always been our thing here, we never order the same thing twice.
We enjoy our food and as the server clears our plates, Callie reaches for her purse. “Okay, it’s gift time,” she announces, her voice carrying a playful excitement that makes her dimples pop.
I raise a brow, pretending to be surprised as if we don’t always do gifts after dessert every year. “Oh, we’re doing the gifts now?”
“No, I’m doing the gift now. You just spent more money than I care to recall on me in the romance section at Target. So you better not have a gift for me,” she insists, pulling a small, rectangular box wrapped in red paper from her bag. “Here! Open it!”
I take the box, feeling the weight of it in my hands. Callie’s watching me intently, her eyes bright with anticipation. I peel back the paper and lift the lid. Inside is a sleek, wooden watch with brass accents. It’s one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.
“Flip it over!” she says excitedly.
I turn it over, and the words on the back take my breath away:
But for those who love, time is eternal.
“Callie…” My words catch in my throat as I choke back tears. “This is incredible.”
She smiles, her eyes glistening. “You’re always saying time flies when you’re with me. I thought you could use something to help you keep track of it.”
I laugh softly, slipping the watch onto my right wrist. “It’s perfect, Dollface. Thank you so much.”
“My turn,” I say. I pull a small velvet box from my jacket pocket and slide it across the table. “I hope you like it.”
The tears fall from her eyes as she lifts the lid, her fingers trembling as she pulls the custom choker out of the box. The delicate black velvet band lays across her fingers as she takes in the sight before her. The middle of the choker contains a locket with small charms inside to symbolize our journey together: a coffee cup, a music note, the birthstone of each of our children, and a few other charms fill the locket. On the glass, one of my nicknames for her is engraved across it.
“Dollface,” she whispers, rubbing her thumb over the glass piece. “Owen… this is beautiful. Thank you so much.”
“Flip it over,” I encourage, repeating her words from before. It rattles me just how much we are on the same wavelength.
She flips it over to reveal the discreet engraving on the back of the locket and I watch in awe as the blush creeps up her cheeks as she reads the back that contains my other pet name for her: Kitty.
A soft laugh escapes her, and she shakes her head, more tears threatening to spill over. “You’re going to ruin my makeup, you know that?”
“Oh, I know,” I say with a grin.
“Worth it,” she says as I stand from the table and step behind her, taking the choker from her hands to put it around her delicate neck. As I sit back down, the sight of her wearing something I gave her makes my chest swell with pride. She knows exactly what this choker means to me and I know what it means to her. It’s not just any choker, but a collar. I’d bought her a delicate lace collar years ago as a placeholder until I could find the right one. .
“It’s perfect,” she whispers, her fingers brushing against the collar on her neck.
“No,” I correct her, my voice low. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect, Callie. I am the luckiest man in the world.”
My wife and I step out into the crisp night air, the cool breeze a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside the restaurant. Callie’s arm loops through mine as we stroll toward the car. The evening feels like something out of one of my wife’s filthy romance novels, one of those nights where everything feels right in the world despite the chaos of our lives this last decade.
When we reach the car, I open her door with a small flourish, earning a playful smile. Just as she’s about to slide in, my phone buzzes in my pocket, shattering the stillness. I fish it out, glancing at the screen. My brows shoot up, and a surprised laugh escapes me.
“What is it?” Callie asks, tilting her head, curiosity lighting up her face.
I can’t keep the grin off my lips as I read the message again. “You’re never going to believe this…”
“Well, spit it out already!” she commands, her hands resting on her hips.
“It’s Luke,” I begin, but before I can say more, a second buzz announces a picture message. I turn the phone toward her, the image lighting up the screen. She gasps audibly, her eyes wide as she stares at it.
“No way,” she breathes, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Shaking my head, I laugh, looking down at the picture again. It’s Luke’s hand intertwined with a woman’s, both of their left ring fingers adorned with simple and unmistakable gold wedding bands.
“He got married?!” Callie exclaims, her voice rising an octave. “To who?!”
“Honey…” I pause, still laughing as I glance at the picture again, as if it will reveal more details. “I have no idea.”
THE END.