Twenty-Seven
twenty-seven
WHO KNEW - P!NK
CALLIE - JUNE 24, 2013
I t’s been over a week since I last heard from Owen. Each day, the silence stretches longer, like a wound that refuses to heal. I stare at my phone more than I’d like to admit, checking for a message that never comes. Every vibration sends my heart into overdrive, only to face the same disappointment. Nothing. Not even a “Hey.”
I should have added him on social media, but I never thought it’d come to this. I don’t even know his last name.
I need to let him go. I know this. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier. And with everything else going on, maybe it’s for the best.
Sara grips my hand tightly as we walk into my mom’s house. She waddles along, her tiny feet pattering against the floor, making my heart swell with warmth. Lately, life feels like a blur. Work, exhaustion, and being pregnant with another child while trying to raise Sara on my own—it’s a lot .
“Mom, we’re here!” I call, releasing Sara’s hand as she toddles toward her grandma with a burst of giggles.
“Thanks for watching her,” I say as I bend down to kiss Sara’s cheek. “I’ve got my OB/GYN appointment, and well, I don’t think Sara’s going to be a fan of that."
Mom smiles at me, concern written in the lines of her face. “Take your time, sweetie. You look like you could use a breather.”
I nod, grateful for the small reprieve. The weight of everything is getting heavier, but hearing that steady heartbeat in the doctor's office—it brings it all back into focus. I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.
Later that evening, I’m at Matt’s place, cuddled up on his couch while we watch Sweet Home Alabama. The movie feels oddly nostalgic, like it’s mirroring our own story—two people who drifted apart, only to circle back again.
Matt leans in a little closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You know, this movie always reminds me of us.”
I smile, a flicker of uncertainty creeping in. “Yeah. Do you think we could be like them?”
He grins, fingers brushing against mine. “Maybe we already are.”
It’s a sweet sentiment, but there’s a nagging feeling deep in my gut. Despite the chemistry, something feels off. But I let it slide as one kiss leads to another, and we end up in bed. It’s comforting, being with Matt again, but after he falls asleep, I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts swirling.
I slip out of bed quietly, my heart pounding with doubt. Was this a mistake? As I leave his place and drive back home, the weight of uncertainty presses down on me. It felt right in the moment, but now... now I’m not so sure.
The next day, Matt’s behavior sets my instincts on high alert. He’s distant, dodging my questions, his attention glued to his phone. When I try to talk to him about it over coffee at Brooked & Brewed , he brushes me off with some weak excuse about work.
Matty Red Flag #1.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Yeah, just busy,” he says, barely meeting my gaze. The smile he gives me is hollow, a mask, and I know something’s wrong.
The sinking feeling in my chest deepens.
That night, Matt comes over to my apartment. I try to shake off the doubts. He’s been good to me, right? But as things heat up between us, just when we’re lost in the moment, his phone rings. He doesn’t just ignore it—he answers it.
“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath as he rolls over, turning his back to me, murmuring something to the person on the other end. My heart thuds in my chest, but I force myself to stay quiet. He’s acting strange, and I don’t like it.
When he finally hangs up, I ask, “Who was that?”
“A friend,” he says, avoiding my eyes.
Red Flag #2.
It’s not the first time he’s dodged my questions, and now my patience is wearing thin. I don’t push it, but that nagging feeling is back, stronger this time. He gets dressed, mumbles something about needing to go, and leaves.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling more alone than ever. He bailed and I’m not getting any answers tonight.
Red Flag #3 .
Two days later, the truth unravels. His phone buzzes incessantly as we try to pick out a movie. I glance over at him, watching him silence the calls over and over, his face tight with guilt.
“Matt, who’s calling you?” I finally ask, unable to take the tension any longer.
He sighs, his face pale. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Red Flag #4.
And then it all comes spilling out. Not only does he have a girlfriend, but she’s not just any girlfriend—she’s his fiancée. And she’s moving back to town soon, expecting to move in with him.
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. How could I have been so blind?
“I’ll make this simple for you, Matt,” I say, my voice colder than I feel. “We’re done. I’m not going to be anyone’s side piece. Get the hell out of my life.”
His eyes widen, but I don’t wait for him to respond. I get dressed, grab my keys, and leave without looking back.
As I sit on my back porch, watching Sara play with her toys, a sense of calm washes over me. The sun is setting, casting a soft glow over the yard. I may not have all the answers, but I know one thing for sure—I’m done letting men treat me like I’m disposable. No more distractions, no more heartache. I’m stronger than this, and I deserve better.