I shake my head as I slide my phone back into my pocket. When I step inside, Callie is closing the door to my bedroom.
I freeze, drinking her in. She’s changed into a colorful sundress and the straps of her bathing suit are visible. Her long hair is twisted back into a bun and a pair of sunglasses is perched on her head. Her face is bare, her movements slow, her demeanor calm.
I bite the corner of my mouth. Man, I missed seeing her like this. Breathless and effortless.
Unstressed. Unhurried. Natural.
Callie James is always beautiful but there’s something special about the simplicity of this moment. It’s a sneak peek of the slice of life we could have. And man do I want it.
“Ready?” she asks, looking up.
“Let’s do it.”
I follow Callie out into the sunshine and love how comfortable and at ease I feel. How normal this is.
How ready I am to settle down, take things day-by-day, and just live with the woman I’ve always wanted by my side.
If Callie wasn’t laughing as loudly and as frequently as she is, I’d disown my family.
But man, would I miss them. Even if I’d never admit it aloud.
Pieces of Callie’s hair have escaped her bun and fall around her face, framing it. Her head is tossed back, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes shut and crinkling at the corners, as she howls with laughter.
Beside her, Svetlana is flapping a hand in front of her face to keep her tears at bay so she doesn’t smudge her mascara. Another giggle erupts from her as she holds out her wine glass, gesturing for my brother to top her off.
He does so, amid his own bursts of laughter.
Carla sits in a beach chair, braiding Ariella’s hair, and looking around the group of adults with amusement dancing in her eyes. Jake shakes his head, looking at me as if to say, this stupidity is really what you want for your life?
But as I look at my mom and pop, sitting side by side in beach chairs, their toes digging into the sand, their hands clasped casually between them, I realize it is.
My parents are celebrating fifty years of marriage and are sitting on the beach in my mother’s hometown with their entire family—children and grandchildren—scattered around them and bent over in laughter. What could possibly be better than that?
“Callie looks happy,” Mom remarks next to me.
I look at her and she arches a knowing eyebrow.
“She does. She needs a break,” I say.
Mom nods. “She needs family, too.”
I narrow my eyes. “She has?—”
“She experienced too much loss in a short amount of time. She needs to be with people who know her, who love her.” Mom’s tone holds an edge, and I hate that I know what she’s trying to convey without coming right out and saying it.
She belongs with our family.
Deep down, I think Mom knew, maybe even before I fully accepted it, that Callie was it for me. There was no other woman I brought around as much as Callie. Because it was always under the guise of work, the rumors that would normally spin around my family were tempered. My family has always respected my career and been my biggest support system.
But one December, I was sitting in Mom’s kitchen orchestrating a company to decorate Callie’s home with Christmas lights and Mom looked up in surprise before smiling and giving me a knowing look. Since that day, she’s always peered a little too close at me whenever I mention Callie or whenever Callie comes around. Mom’s always known that my feelings for Callie were more than just professional or platonic.
I clear my throat and take a swig of my beer in response.
Mom laughs lightly. “Callie!” she calls out.
Callie looks up, her eyes dancing.
“Did Gage show you the caves yet?” Mom asks.
