Chapter 25
Callie
It’s a beautiful Tuesday—sunny, breezy, that perfect day that makes you feel guilty for staying inside. I grab the stroller, buckle Nash in, slide Holland’s hand into mine, and secure Landon in the wrap against my chest. His little head rests just under my chin.
The sidewalk’s lined with freshly mowed lawns and the sound of someone’s sprinkler ticking back and forth. I text Josie to make sure it’s okay if we stop by, and she replies right away: Yes!
By the time we reach Warren’s Garage, I’m breaking a sweat, and all the kids are red-faced and sticky. Holland’s belting out a version of “The Wheels on the Bus” that she’s absolutely made up herself, complete with hand motions that don’t match a single lyric.
Josie looks up from behind the front desk and grins. “Well, look at you—mama of three.”
I laugh, easing the stroller through the door and shifting Landon higher on my chest. “It’s a workout just getting out of the house, I swear.”
She comes around the counter immediately, crouching to Holland and Nash’s level.
“What have you guys been up to today? Being good? Listening?” Holland answers all of it at once.
Nash chimes in with a few words here and there, nodding like he’s proud of himself for participating.
Both of them ask when the baby in Josie’s belly will come out again.
To say they’re excited for another cousin is an understatement.
Josie’s attention shifts to Landon then. “Can I see him?”
I pull back the fabric of the wrap a little, careful not to wake him. He’s out cold, cheek pressed into my chest, lashes dark against his skin. Josie smiles softly, her wedding band and engagement ring catching the light as she adjusts the blanket.
“He’s getting so big,” she says. “You can already tell…he’s gonna be Mitch’s twin.”
I smile, even though something in my chest tightens the way it always does when I notice her rings.
Josie and Tanner got married last August. I still can’t believe they’re coming up on a year already. And soon a baby will be added to their blended family. Being at her wedding with Mitch was…complicated. It had only been two weeks since he’d proposed. Two weeks since I’d said no.
I remember how terrified I was of what Josie would think when she found out I was pregnant. She’d always teased that Mitch had a crush on me—just like I teased her about Tanner. And now, here we were. She got the rings, the wedding, the order everyone approves of. I got a baby first.
I did everything backwards.
“Jo, she call back yet?” Tanner’s voice carries in from the garage.
Josie spins around. “No, not yet! But I can try her again.”
He grunts, mutters something under his breath, and disappears back through the door. Josie watches him go, then looks back at me with an exaggerated eye roll.
I laugh. “Everything okay?”
“He’s tense. Kayce’s tense. It’s a great time all around,” she says with a laugh, her hand instinctively resting on her belly.
“Work stuff?” I ask.
“Yeah. Busy week, and the boss is off, so they’re juggling everything.”
“Gotcha.”
Josie glances toward the hall, listening for Tanner, then leans closer and lowers her voice. “Okay, you didn’t hear it from me, but…Charlotte tried to sneak out last night.”
My eyes widen. “No way.”
“Yep. Miss Sweet-and-Shy herself. Tanner about lost his mind.”
“Oh my gosh, where was she going?”
Josie presses her lips together, trying not to laugh. “Just to get ice cream with her friend, Hailey. But still, Tanner was livid.”
“I bet. Whose idea was it?”
“Hailey’s. That girl’s hanging around a louder crowd lately, and Charlotte’s just trying to fit in.”
I wince. “That’s scary. She’s still such a kid.”
“Exactly,” Josie sighs. “But I told him it could’ve been worse. At least she didn’t sneak out to meet some boy.”
“True.”
Holland tugs at my arm. “Can I go find Daddy?” she asks, her little voice hopeful.
Josie smiles and stands. “I’ll tell him you’re here, sweetheart,” she says, brushing her hands on her jeans as she heads toward the garage.
The door swings shut behind her, leaving the faint hum of tools and the smell of grease hanging in the air.
* * *
Wrenley picks the kids up around four, just in time for me to make dinner without someone tugging on my leg every three minutes. The house feels unusually calm—just the soft lull of the lullaby music coming from the swing, Landon tucked inside, dozing off more with every sway.
By the time the pasta’s done, the sky’s fading to gold and pink outside the kitchen window. I move around quietly, the way you do when a baby’s finally sleeping.
Mitch calls around six, his voice tired but still warm. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m not gonna be home ’til closer to seven.”
“It’s okay,” I say, shifting the phone to my shoulder as I plate his dinner. “Could be worse.”
He laughs a little. “Yeah, could be nine again.”
Exactly what I was thinking.
When I finally hear the rumble of his diesel coming down the road, it’s nearly seven-twenty. You can always hear that truck before you see it. It’s a comfort now, that sound. I’m stuck on the couch nursing, the TV playing quietly in the background, but my shoulders relax the second I hear the door.
He steps in, lunchbox in one hand, boots heavy on the floor, the bottom half of his pants stained green from grass. The smell of dirt, sun, and fresh-cut lawns follows him in.
“Hey,” he says with that smile that never gets old.
“Hi,” I reply, glancing down at the trail of grass he’s already leaving. “Can you brush off on the porch, please? I just Swiffered.”
He glances down at himself, half-sheepish, half-amused. “Yeah. Sorry, I’ll go shower after I eat if that’s alright.”
When he comes back in, he drops a quick kiss on my forehead before heading to the kitchen. “I’m starving.”
“There’s a plate in the microwave,” I tell him. “Already made it up.”
He grins, opening the door. “You spoil me.” The microwave hums to life.
“How was your day?” he asks, turning to lean against the counter.
“Fine. We went to the garage for a bit, then walked around the block.”
“Nice,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was hot.”
“It was.”
He exhales, long and low. “I gotta use the laptop tonight—pay bills, type up some invoices. Luke can’t; he’s busy with Maddie.
My heart sinks, just a little. I was hoping we’d spend the night together, just watching something and pretending we weren’t tired. But then I remember tomorrow is date night, our first one in a while, and that softens the sting.
“That’s fine,” I say, smiling anyway.
When Landon’s done nursing, I set him in his bouncy seat by Mitch’s feet at the table while I grab a quick shower.
“Hey, buddy,” Mitch says, leaning forward, his voice lighter now. “Are you being a good boy?” He tickles his tiny feet and Landon’s face lights up in that gummy smile that still feels like a miracle.
By the time I come back down, Mitch’s plate is practically licked clean, pushed to the side. He’s got Landon sitting on the table in front of him, talking gentle and soft to him, both of them smiling like they’re in their own world.
I just watch. That sight…Mitch’s calloused hands holding Landon—our baby—still makes my heart tighten every time.
When Mitch finally stands, he passes Landon gently back to me and leans down, pressing a kiss to my hair. His BO clouding the air around us nearly suffocates me. I scrunch my nose.
“Yeah…your turn,” I tease.
He grins, heading toward the door. “I’ll be back.”
* * *
I slept maybe three hours total last night—four, if I’m being generous by counting the half-doze I got sitting up with Landon at three a.m.
Thank goodness I don’t watch the kids today—Wrenley’s off on Wednesdays.
Landon was up every hour. Fussy. Irritable. I think he’s getting a tooth, but I didn’t figure that out until this morning when I saw how much he was drooling and gnawing on his hand like it was his favorite toy.
By nine he’d soaked through his onesie. By two, I’m touched out and mostly running on fumes. He hasn’t fallen asleep on his own once today—only in my arms—and the one time I managed to transfer him to the crib, he woke up fifteen minutes later and greeted me with a blowout.
He used to sleep fine. Binky, swaddle, sound machine, done. I used to lay him down, tiptoe out, and have a solid hour to breathe. Now it’s like he knows the exact moment my feet hit the hallway and decides that’s his cue to scream.
My mom’s supposed to come over tonight to watch him so Mitch and I can go out—our monthly date night that we’d promise we’d prioritize. I’m so tired, and if she wasn’t working, I’d be tempted to ask if she’d wanna come now so I could lay down.
I stare at Mitch’s mom’s name on my phone for a long minute instead, thumb hovering over the call button, my stomach twisting.
She’s…complicated. I’ve never seen the side of her that Mitch and Macy talk about, but I’ve heard enough. She’s sweet, helpful, and present, until she’s not. And when she’s not, she makes sure you know why.
She was wonderful when Landon was first born, offering help, meals, time, anything. So were my parents and Josie and Macy. I actually had to keep track of who got to hold him next. And now, three months later, it’s quiet. Nobody’s offering as much anymore.
I think I did that, though. I turned help away so often in those early weeks, wanting to prove I could handle it, that I wasn’t falling apart, that everyone assumes I’ve got it under control now.
Truth is, I needed help then, but I really need it now.
Newborns are easy. Sleep, eat, repeat. But now Landon wants to be entertained, held, rocked, sung to. He eats more, cries louder, sleeps less. And suddenly, all the people who used to show up with casseroles and offers to hold him for an hour have gone back to their lives.
The bouncer squeaks when I finally get him settled in it, and I watch him chew on his hand, drool glistening on his chin. He’s so dang cute, even when he’s wearing me down to nothing.
When my phone rings and I see Mitch’s name, I could cry with relief. I give Landon his binky, pat his butt, and answer.
“Hey,” I breathe.
“Hey, babe,” he says, voice staggered. I hear a Weedwacker running in the background. “How’s your day?”
“Good,” I lie. “How’s yours?”
“Not great. I’m hoping to be done by seven.”
“Seven?” My voice dips before I can stop it.
“Yeah, I know it’s late again, but it could be worse.”
“So…we’re not going to dinner?”
“Oh shoot.” He pauses, groaning quietly. “I totally forgot.”
My shoulders slump. “It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Really. But we’ve gotta get these jobs done—it’s supposed to rain like a banshee tomorrow.”
“So you’ll be home tomorrow?”
“No, we still have stuff to do. But I’ll be home by five, I’d think.”
I close my eyes and draw in a slow breath, trying not to let him hear how disappointed I am.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Let’s go out tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure.”
“It’s a date. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
When the call ends, I set my phone on the counter and just stand there a minute before I text my mom, asking about tomorrow instead.