#heymikeys

You swore it was only yesterday that you were standing in the home ec classroom at your high school. The smell of burnt cookies lingering in the air masking the smell of your cookies – crisp on the edge but gooey in the middle, just the way you like them.

You were only fourteen at the time. A wide eyed freshman too naive for the big bad world of high school. You were insecure in every sense of the word, but standing in the kitchen with hands covered in flour you felt confident, free. It was in that moment that you realized you were descendent to be a chef.

“All hands on deck this morning?” you ask, sashaying through the back door of the restaurant. The kitchen was packed with employees, some of them people you hadn’t seen in a while due to your change in shifts. 

“It’s a big delivery,” Mark, the owner and head chef, says. 

You nod your head, setting your purse and keys in your small cubby before joining the rest of the employees. It isn’t long before the massive delivery truck is backing up down the small alley. Once the beeping stops you take off towards the truck, the rest of the employees trickling in line behind you.

It takes forty minutes to unload the truck. Your arms aching as you set the last box down near your station. Before you had time to regroup Mark was walking through the doors, clapping at the cooperation of his faithful employees. He takes a swig from his water bottle before shouting out orders. 

The day is far from over. 

/

After swapping your street clothes for your chef jacket you get straight to work. You spend the next thirty minutes chopping up vegetables. The kitchen has begun to take on the smell of the different soups boiling in the corner of the kitchen; meanwhile all that can be heard is the vigorous chopping of ingredients and the familiar sound of a whisk hitting the insides of the metal bowl. You barely notice the sound of plates clattering from where they sit stacked on the counter, your attention too focused on chopping up the onions to their proper dimensions. 

You aren’t entirely sure why you are preparing the vegetables given that it isn’t your usual job in the kitchen. Typically, you reside along side Mark acting as his right hand man and his favorite sues chef – or at least that’s what you tell yourself to make the hours of his screaming more bearable. 

Still, you took the job seriously with a “yes chef,” following the announcement of your new position for the time being. Truthfully, you don’t mind too much. Sure, chopping vegetables was tedious and sometimes left you stinking of onions, but it was better than having to portion out the steaks. Cutting vegetables was a lot safer of a job too. No one ever complains about a tomato being cut too small but miss a piece of a fat on a buttery piece of steak and you would be sentenced to dish duty. Mark didn’t mess around when it came to the kitchen. 

You’re chopping up your last bell pepper when the atmosphere in the kitchen changes. Suddenly, the noise of boiling water and knifes busy at work can’t be heard over the boisterous chatter that has broken out. You set your knife down, wiping your hands on your jacket before walking over to the kitchen doors to see what all the fuss is about. To your surprise it’s Kelly, the usual vegetable cook, showing off her latest ultrasound of her baby, her pregnant belly visible under her uniform. 

“Thanks for covering for me, Y/N,” she smiles, following you back to her station. “I wanted to be here but the doctor’s say I can’t lift anything over ten pounds. Plus, we got to find out the sex of the baby today. It’s a girl! Can you believe that?” 

You can. 

Having carried two girls yourself not too long ago you knew the tell tale signs of what being pregnant with a girl did to one’s body. You never believed your mom when she said boys give their mother’s beauty but girls take it away until you were pregnant with Kiya. Everything on your body had swelled from your boobs down to your feet. It was the worst nine months of your entire life and then a year and a half later you did it all over again. 

“Congrats, Kelly,” you smile, bring her in for a hug. “Luke and you must be so excited. Anyway, all the vegetables are chopped minus this one. I can finish it if you want, unless you want to dive right in?” 

“I’ll finish it up!” she says, enthusiasm dripping from her words. “I’m sure you’ve got more important things to be preparing anyway. Thanks again, Y/N.” 

/

An hour later the kitchen is in full swing. Mark is shouting orders as fast they come in and the chefs around you move in a rhythm that can be unmatched. You step in where help is needed, aiding chefs in charge of preparing the appetizers before things slow down and you are able to return to your own station. 

With Mark busy shouting orders and the kitchen finally up to speed on things, you can sit back and worry about plating the food. Admittedly, it’s one of your favorite things about being a chef. Nothing gave you more pleasure than making a simple piece of meat and potatoes look like art – well, except cooking the meal and getting compliments, but that didn’t happen too often anymore. Still, it was one of the most rewarding moments of your life, in fact, you still reminisce on the first time you heard the words “compliments to the chef” sometimes. 

“Chef David called in sick, that bastard,” Mark sneered, storming into the kitchen with a rage none of the chefs nor you had previously been exposed too. “How are we supposed to open doors in two hours without a proper seafood chef.” 

“I can do it,” you said. “Chef, I can do it.” 

You had only been at the restaurant for a month, giving you enough time to establish yourself as a vegetable chef instead of the glorious dish washing tasks you had been assigned on day one. Still, you knew you had potential to be great, but unfortunetly for you, your esteemed certificate from Le Cordon Bleu meant nothing in the real world. 

“Y/N, right?” Mark asked, still trying to learn your name. “What the hell none of you people decided to volunteer. You have an hour to learn the recipes.” 

“Yes chef,” you said, abounding your vegetable station, which was already prepared for the dinner rush, in exchange for the counter full of pots and pans. 

“You’ve got one chance, don’t fuck it up,” he shouted. “If you do you’re gone the minute your shift is over.” 

You worked the hardest you’d ever worked that night. Turning out perfectly cooked fish after perfectly cooked fish, a feat that not even the legendary Chef David could do in one dinner service. When you finally turned the stove off that night it was the proudest you’d even been, until you heard the faintest knock on the door. 

Mark opened the door to reveal the head waiter but behind him stood the most gorgeous boy you’d ever seen. He was tall, taller than the waiter, but what stood out was the way his dark skin reflected in the dim light of the restaurant seating area. Though you didn’t know the boy in front of you, your body ached too. 

“Someone wanted to give compliments to the chef,” Steve, the head waiter mumbled. “Told’m he had to stay ‘til closen’ and he did.” 

“Awe yes, we love to see our customers satisfied,” Mark beamed, eager to take the compliment for himself. “What is it you had tonight?” 

“Your seafood special, I can’t recall the name,” the boy smiled, a hint of an accent lingering in the way he pronounced the vowels in his words. 

Mark was taken aback, his gaze shifting from the gorgeous stranger to you, the measly chef who managed to step up in the kitchen in the face of an utter disaster. Stepping aside, Mark motioned for Steve and the stranger to follow him, the three of them made their way towards you. 

“Y/N, this customer would like to compliment your cooking tonight,” Mark said, stepping aside so that the stranger could face you. 

“Your seafood dish was cooked to perfection,” the boy smiled, sticking out his hand so that he could shake yours. “I’m Calum, by the way.” 

“Y/N,” you answered. “And thank you.” 

“No problem,” he said, turning back to Mark. “My family’s coming to town this week and I think I’ll be bringing them here for dinner. Make sure she’s cooking.” 

You smile at the memory. Calum has given you so many great things over the years from a loving relationship to two beautiful girls but it was often the recognition he bestowed on you that night that truly made your life. After all, he was the reason you were standing along side Mark today. If it weren’t for Calum you’d still be climbing the ladder of the culinary industry instead of teetering towards the top. 

/

It’s nearly two in the morning when your key unlocks the front door of your house. You enter quietly, kicking off your shoes before dropping your keys in the bowl. Your purse falls from your shoulder, meeting the floor with a thud that causes you to groan. The last thing you need is to wake up your sleeping family. 

In the pitch black of your house, you manage to make it to your bedroom without making more noise. Stripping out of your chef jacket and the rest of your clothes you collapse onto the bed. A groan falling from your lips when your head meets the pillow. 

“You reek of onions,” Calum mumbles, massaging the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” you whisper, slightly annoyed that you can’t just fall asleep now. “I had to cut the vegetables today because Kelly had a doctor’s appointment.” 

“Lu, told me,” Calum says. “Can you believe they’re having a girl? Another girl to add to this crazy bunch. We’re all in trouble someday.” 

You hum, exhaustion finally settling within your body. Your feet ache from standing on them all day and your fingers are sore from clutching the knife for hours. Not to mention, a knot is forming between your shoulders from lifting deliveries all morning. 

Thankfully, Calum takes the hint that you don’t want to be bothered. He kisses your forehead quickly before rolling back over, his back facing you. You watch as his body rises a little with each inhale of breath. The sound of his snores lulling you to sleep within seconds.

You awake to an empty bed, the sounds of giggles from somewhere in the house, and your body clothed with your favorite pajamas. A smile breaks out onto your face when you realize Calum must have changed you into them when he woke up this morning. With a yawn, you stretch out before rolling over to the edge of the bed. You let your legs dangle for a moment before your feet are met with the chilly tile -- you wince, feet achey from the long day you had yesterday. Pushing yourself up from the mattress, you adjust your pajama shorts that have ridden up your thighs during your slumber before grabbing your phone from the nightstand and padding your way down the hallway in search of your giggling family. 

Calum is sitting at the small table in the middle of the spare bedroom turned play room for the girls. He has a a tiara perched on top of his head and a a pink beaded necklace dangling from his neck. Gracie is seated next to him, a tutu hugging her tinny waist while she clutches her princess wand, swinging it around in the air. Kiya is there too, pouring an invisible cup of tea into Calum’s cup. She has an apron tied around her waist, the one you had gotten her only a few months ago for her fifth birthday. There are a few stray stuffed animals residing in the rest of the seats, but one remains open. 

You watch from the doorway as Kiya takes her seat next to her father. Gracie stands next, pushing in her chair before skipping towards the front of the room where Calum and Kiya are facing. All of their backs are towards you, allowing you to be a fly on the wall for a few more moments. Calum plays the music from his phone, the opening verse of “Part of You World” filling the room as your daughter prances around pretending to be Ariel while dancing and singing. She’s in the middle of the grand finale when she spots you in the doorway. Dropping her princess wand she runs towards you, her small body coiling around your leg until you bed down to pick her up. 

“That was beautiful Gracie,” you smile, kissing her cheeks. 

“Hi sleeping beauty,” Calum musses, motioning for you to join them. You take the seat next to your husband, holding out your cup so Kiya can pour you some of her delicious tea. “You made it right on time! Kiya is about to start her rendition of “Belle,” weren’t you Ki?” 

Kiya nods her head, dusting her hands over her apron before walking over to the spot Gracie was just in. Just like before, Calum starts the music and Kiya begins her routine. Though you haven’t seen the movie in quite sometime you know your daughter is mirroring Belle’s moves perfectly. Her voice is delicate and soft just like her father’s and you can’t help but wonder if she’ll follow in his rockstar path. 

Before the song is over, your phone begins to buzz on the table. Mark’s name is flashing on the screen and though you don’t want to miss the finale you know you have to take the call. You frown at your daughter, giving her a round of applause before exiting the room and heading back to the quiet of your bedroom. Once again, leaving Calum in charge of the girls. 

“How come mommy left?” Kiya asks, a bit out of breath from her three minute show. 

“She got a call from work Ki,” Calum says, trying to fight back the frown that is threatening to form on his own face. He hates when you push him and the girls away for work. And lately, it’s been happening more and more. “Come on you two, let’s go get you some lunch. How does mac and cheese sound?” 

“Can we have the pwincess mac and cheese?” Gracie asks. 

“Does that sound good to you Ki?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she says, though her voice is deflated. 

He ushers the two girls into the living room, flicking on the television to the latest episode of Sophia the First before heading into the kitchen to start on lunch. He looks back quickly, smiling at the sight of his two girls snuggled up on the couch together. It’s beautiful, yet he can’t shake the thought that’s someone is missing. Glancing down the hallway towards your bedroom, he shakes his head before walking into the kitchen. 

/

Calum is busy pouring the powdered cheese mix into the pot of boiled princess crown macaroni noodles when you walk in. Your hair is damp from the shower leaving water stains on your chef jacket – which still reeks of onions but you have no choice but to wear it, the other one’s are in the wash. 

“Are you really feeding my girls that crap that is considered macaroni and cheese?” you blurt, your words sounding harsher than you intended. 

“Yeah I am. It’s easy and they love it,” Calum answers. He finishes stirring in the powdered mix before turning to face you. His face falls at the sight of your jacket and the way your pulling your wet hair into a bun. “Why are in your work clothes?” 

“Mark called – dammit,” you huff, struggling to wrangle the stay pieces of your hair into the bun. Frustrated, you let all your hair fall back to your shoulders while Calum steps behind you, pulling the stands together before twirling them and securing them with the elastic band dangling between your lips. “You’re pretty good at this.” 

“I’ve got two girls, someone has to be their to get their hair ready for school and dance class,” he says, hoping you pick up on the small dig. 

You don’t. 

“Anyway, Mark called. Kelly called in sick again so I have to go chop vegetables again this afternoon. It’s okay though, he wants to talk to me about something so I have to show up early no matter what.” 

“Oh,” he sighs, walking back over to the stove. He scoops a spoonful of macaroni into each of the princess bowls to his right before calling the girls in. He get’s both of them settled on the bar before turning his attention back to you. “What time are you leaving?” 

You glance at the clock, your nose scrunching up when you realize you promised to be there at one and it was already 12:40. “Now actually.” 

“What time are you going to be home?” he asks, following you out to the front door. “Remember, we’re supposed to meet Kiya’s teacher at three. Michael’s going to watch the girls so we can go. She’s coming in especially for us today so you better be there.” 

“I’ll meet you there,” you say, typing the information into your phone. You kiss Calum goodbye, shouting bye to the girls before heading out the door. 

Calum locks it behind you, watching from the window until you turn onto the boulevard and he can no longer see your car. With a sigh, he heads back into the kitchen, serving himself a bowl of mac and cheese and joining his girls at the bar. 

“Looks like it’s just us again today. Why don’t we start Sunday Movie night early, yeah? We can watch Lilo and Stitch?” 

“Sounds good daddy,” Kiya smiles, Gracie nodding along with her sister. 

/

Calum, Kiya, and Gracie spend the next hour and half snuggled up on the couch. He’s got one girl curled up under each of his arms, their heads’ using his chest as a pillow. Gracie has fallen asleep, her thumb tucked between her lips as her chest rises and falls softly. Kiya’s eyes flutter in and out of sleep, her body stirs when she hears a knock on the door. 

“Ki, why don’t you go get another movie for you and Uncle Michael to watch,” Calum urges. 

Kiya yawns but agrees, jumping off the couch running down the hall towards the playroom. Calum picks Gracie up, nestling her head in the crook of his neck before he opens the door. He motions for him to be quiet before letting him in. Michael follows Calum into the girl’s room where Calum puts Gracie in her bed before shutting the door a bit. The two walk back to the living room where Kiya is setting up another movie. 

“What are we watching today, Ki” Michael asks. 

“Peter pan!” she answers, before running down the hallway in search of the bathroom. 

“Where’s Y/N?”

“At work,” Calum grumbles, rolling his eyes. “She’s supposed to meet me at the school.” Calum picks up the blanket Gracie was previously using, folding it back up and dangling it off the arm rest of the couch. “Gracie will sleep for another little bit. I shouldn’t be too late but if I am, there’s some money on the counter for pizza. Make sure you get cheese ‘cause that’s all the girls will eat. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back.” 

“Don’t worry about us,” Michael smiles. 

“Yeah daddy don’t worry,” Kiya says, snuggling up to Michael on the couch. 

You’re in the middle of sautéing mushrooms when you hear your name being called. The kitchen isn’t that big and yet somehow you’ve managed to drift so far inside your head that the noise of Mark shouting is the only thing that can reel you back in. 

It’s a deja vu moment. Steve is at the swinging black doors connection the kitchen to the dining area with Calum standing behind him. Though, this time Calum is stiff, his arms crossed tightly across his torso causing the fabric of his shirt to bunch up around his shoulders. He doesn’t look too pleased to see you when his eyes spot you. 

“Y/N take a five minute break,” Mark says, walking Calum over to where you stand in front of a stove. “I’ll handle the station.” 

Relieved, you usher Calum towards the back door and into the dimly lit alley behind the restaurant. You wipe your hands on the front of your jacket before stuffing them into the pockets on your pants. The crisp air is a stark contrast to the warm kitchen you just left. 

Though you can tell Calum is upset, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, tugging the corners of your lips up towards your eyes. You were happy he came, unsure of how you were going to go the next few hours without telling him the good news Mark had delivered to you only a few short hours ago. 

“Just the man I wanted to see!” you gush, pecking his cheek. 

Calum doesn’t return the gesture, instead his arms constrict tighter around his middle. His eyes furrow creating a crease in his forehead. He lets out a long sigh before meeting your gaze. 

“You missed the conference with Kiya’s teacher.” 

“Oh shit!” The words tumble out of your mouth as Calum stares at you. He’s always been hard to read and now with the clear distance between the two of you it’s even harder, but you can sense the frustration boiling inside him. “I’m so sorry. My meeting with Mark took longer than expected and I got behind on preparing vegetables but that’s all just crappy excuses. I’m really sorry, but guess what?” you ask, pausing to wait for Calum to give you a sign to continue. “Mark offered me a restaurant!” 

“What do you mean he offered you a restaurant?” Calum asks, skepticism manifesting itself in his words. 

“He wants to expand Butter and Grace and I guess he found a really good piece of real estate up north. He wants me to run it! Be the head chef and manager, can you believe that?” 

“You want to move up north? What about the house and the girls? Kiya finally started liking school and she’s doing good too, which you would know if you bothered to show up today.” 

“I already apologized for that,” you emphasize. “And yeah we’d have to move up north. But I mean it wouldn’t be too bad it’s not like we’re leaving the state or anything.” 

“Just relocating miles away from home and Los Angeles,” he marvels. He can’t believe you are actually condoning the idea of uprooting your entires lives. Sure, a restaurant of your very own was always your dream and Calum knew this but it wasn’t just your life that would be effected. It was yours, and Calum’s and your two girls and everyone else in your lives. “The boys and I are supposed to start writing again. How am I supposed to do that when I’m miles away?” 

“You haven’t written in years,” you remind him, instantly regretting your tone when you see his face fall.

“That’s because we decided to settle down for a bit, start families you know. But we’re all itching to write again.”

“And I’ve been itching to have my own restaurant as long as you’ve known me and even before that,” you defend. One of your hands yanks at the hair tie managing your hair, tugging it free your hair falls. You run your fingers through it for a moment, massaging your head before wrangling it back into it’s bun -- this time without Calum’s help.

“I know that but this isn’t just about me and you anymore. We have two girls to think about. You work too much as it is now and if you were the manager at a restaurant and head chef we’d never see you. And when we did you’d be consumed with setting up the specials for the night and creating new recipes.”

“Wow Calum,” you deadpan. Your own arms crossing in front of you mirroring your husband’s body language. You know it’s been longer than five minutes but you can’t tear yourself away from the conversation. Glancing back at the door, you listen for the heavy footsteps belonging to Mark to call you back in. When the kitchen doesn’t save you, you continue. “It sounds like you resent me for working. Do you want me to quit my job too?” 

“Fuck Y/N, of course not!” he shouts, throwing his hands up into the air. “I love that you work and that you love your job. I’m not asking you to quit I’m just asking to consider the toll this is going to take on our family. The girls already ask why you aren’t around a lot.” 

“I’m busy working,” you sigh.

“I know that and I tell them that but telling them is only going to work for so long. You didn’t see Kiya’s face earlier when you left before she was done performing to answer the damn phone. You didn’t get to hear her teacher gush about how smart she is and you weren’t there this afternoon when the three of us curled up on the couch to watch a movie,” Calum rambles, not giving you time to interject. “Listen, I know your job is important but so are we and we miss you!” 

“You know I never wanted to be a mom,” you blurt, your hands immediately flying to cover your mouth. You can’t believe the words that just left your mouth and by the expression on Calum’s face neither can he. His eyes are glossing over, the frustration fizzling out of him as he lets his shoulders fall. “Fuck! I didn’t -- fuck Calum I didn’t mean that!” 

“You know, I just came here to see if you were okay since you didn’t show up at the school. I think I’m just going to go home now,” he says. He uses his index finger to swipe a few tears building on his eyes lashes before he starts walking away. Before he walks back into the kitchen he turns to look at you once more. “I’m not going to fight with you over this. Kiya may have been an accident but we made a conscious decision to have her and an even more conscious decision to have Gracie two years later. You may not have wanted to be a mom, but you are.” 

“I know, but--” you begin, praying that Calum will hear you out. 

“I’m furious and I’m not doing this here, not know,” he breaths. “We can talk about it when you get home tonight. I’ll send the girls to Michael’s or Ashton’s for the night.” 

“But Ki has school tomorrow,” you remind him. 

“It’s nice of you to show interest in her schooling at the last hour,” he laughs, but it’s not his laugh. It’s too low and his eyes don’t crinkle, instead his face is hard hiding his feelings. “I’m aware of that. Ashton can take them, he has to take Ryder anyway. I’ll see you at home.” 

The house is quiet when you get home an hour later. You kick your shoes off before unbuttoning your jacket and shrugging it off your shoulders. You toss it into the hamper down the hall from the front door before stripping from your pants and tugging on a random pair of pajama shorts that were sitting on top of the washing machine. 

You head down the hall towards the girl’s rooms. Peering in, you notice neither of them are there. The house is eerily quiet and when you see the play room left untouched a knot forms at the bottom of your stomach. Your on the brim of an emotional breakdown, body heavy and vision blurred with tears, when you hear it. The faint sound of strumming followed by the shrill noise of fingers moving too fast against the frets of a guitar. You follow the noise, your feet tiptoeing down the hallway until you reach the end of it. The door that’s remained closed and locked for years is ajar, the noise echoing from the white walls inside. 

It’s Calum’s studio or at least it was Calum’s studio. From the small opening of the door you can see Calum. He’s hunched over the desk in the corner of the room. His guitar is sat on his lap held secure by his left hand while the right one welds a pen across the paper of the familiar moleskin notebook. Though his body isn’t in the most comfortable position, the tension from earlier has left him just like the shirt that was once clinging to his back. 

He’s beautiful. A piece of abstract art that you can’t tear your eyes away from, the longer you stare the more consumed you become. And yet, you feel an ache in your heart at the sight of him, your mind wanders to the last time you saw him in tucked away in this room.

“Cal, what are you doing?” you shouted, angling your body between him and his precious collection of instruments. You watched in horror as your husband’s face fell, his head falling into the palms of his hand as his whole body shook. 

“It’s over,” he sobbed, collapsing into the large rolling chair that sat in the middle of the room. “I mean we decided it’s for the best, you know? You’re pregnant, Ryder’s finally starting school, the other boys are settling down. We saw it coming, but it still hurts.” 

“Hey,” you cooed, kneeling beside your husband despite your large eight month belly that threatened to throw you off balance. “This is a good thing. You’ve been so stressed lately trying to write now you can relax and let inspiration find you. It’ll be okay. And when the time is right you’ll get back together, I know you will.” 

“But what about the baby? How am I supposed to provide for you if I can’t even write songs?” 

“I’ve got my job at Butter and Grace which pays good money. I’m working until I’m ready to deliver and then I’ll take the six weeks of maternity leave like we planned for. We’ll be okay.” 

Were you okay? 

Snapping out of your trance, you decide to push open the door. Calum doesn’t notice at first, in fact, he doesn’t even turn his chair to investigate the creaking of the door. Using every bit of courage you can muster you walk over to him, letting your arms drape around his shoulders as your head uses his shoulder as a perch. 

Calum rolls his shoulders freeing his body from your touch. Usually, your presence calms him, his body aching when your not around for the soft touches of your hands. But not today, no. Today your presence ignites a fire deep within him. His muscles tense, body stilling when he senses you still behind him. With a dramatic sigh, he puts the guitar back in its place next to the desk before shutting the notebook. He swivels in his chair, eyes bloodshot and hair disheveled he finally meets your gaze. 

“Where are the girls?” you whisper. Your afraid to speak any louder. Afraid that the minute you raise your voice the man in front of you will break. He’s fragile, exhausted and it’s because of you. 

“I told you,” he mutters, one hand coming to massage the nape of his neck. “I took them to Ashton’s for the night.” Calum stands from the chair, pushing it in before tucking the notebook into a drawer on the desk. His steps are heavy as he tracks out of the studio before they stop, waiting for you to leave the quiet room. 

Suddenly, you feel like a stranger in your own home. The pictures hung up on the wall -- those from your weddings and milestones from your girls -- seem like life times away. Your usual warm husband, is cold which only makes you crave his warm embrace more. 

You follow him towards the laundry room, standing in the doorway as he flicks on the light tugging the drier door open. His jaw tenses when his eyes land on what he had thrown into the drier nearly an hour ago. Though you can’t see it from your spot, you notice his knuckles turning white as he yanks the clothing from the drier. There in his hands is your chef jacket, your name embroidered in the corner, the fragile stitching barely holding together after several thousand wash cycles. 

“What are you doing home so early?” 

You shrug, watching as he folds the jacket. Careful, to press every fold tightly so it doesn’t wrinkle or come undone when he stuffs it into your dresser later. The white fabric is blinding, a blatant reminder of what got you into this mess in the first place. Your eyes glaze over the embroidery again and you can’t help but sympathize with the worn out stitching. 

Maybe Calum and you were worn out stitching trying to cling to something that didn’t exist anymore. 

“You know I didn’t mean what I said back there,” you start, words coming out slowly to gage his reaction. “I just got frustrated. I love the girls with all my heart and I’m so glad your their father and that they’re a piece of you and me. But, you have to understand. I don’t want to be the stay at home mother. I don’t have it in me.” 

“I realize that but being a stay at home mother and being a mother are two different things. And honestly, you haven’t been either of those things to Kiya or Gracie,” he snaps. 

“D-don’t say that,” you whimper. 

“Why not?” he shouts. “It’s the truth. You don’t know how Gracie likes her pancakes cooked. You don’t help Kiya with her homework even though she waits for you to get home to do it. Fuck Y/N, her teacher praised me for being a single dad. A single dad!” 

Calum storms out of the laundry room, slamming the drier shut. He carries the stack of clothes into your shared bedroom, placing them on the dresser in the corner before opening the drawer. Despite his anger, he tucks the clothes away gently making sure they’re placed just so before turning to face you. 

“You haven’t taken Kiya to school since the first day and that was months ago. So many months ago that her teacher has forgotten you even existed.” 

“I’m working,” you mumble, not trusting your voice to speak any louder. Your throat is dry, twisting into a knot. You know the tears are coming but you refuse to let them fall. You can’t let Calum get the upper hand. 

“I know,” he sighs. “But you’ve been putting your work before your family for too long and I’m fed up with it. It’s not fair to the girls or me or even you.” 

“I don’t know how to be their mom anymore,” you blurt out, tears falling no matter how hard you tried to keep them inside. 

“What are you talking about?” he asks, voice quieter. “You carried them for nine months, both of them! If their’s anyone qualified to care for them it’s you!” 

“That’s not true,” you sob. “I only kept them alive because they needed me too. I went right back to work as soon as I could after! They don’t look at me the way they look at you. They don’t laugh or talk with me like they should.” 

“Y/n, they love you,” Calum reassures you. “They just miss you that’s all.”

“I turned down the job.” 

“You did?”

You nod your head, eyes glued to Calum as he takes a step towards you. You want to run to him, close the distance and be safe in his warm arms. But you don’t. Instead, your body collapses onto the edge of the bed -- your legs no longer strong enough to hold you up. 

“You were right,” you say. “It wouldn’t be fair to us. I can’t take the girls away from their home or their family. We’re already so far away from our own parents I can’t take the girls away from their uncles.”

Calum finally sits next to you. The anger that was brewing in his eyes is gone, the familiar chocolate color staring back at you now. You still can’t place his attitude but then his arms are circling around you. You break, the flood gates open again. Calum tries to hold you still but your body shakes against him until he’s got you situated in his lap, one hand holding the small of your back firmly while the other cups your cheek. 

“Hey,” he coos. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Then why does it feel like you hate me?” you cough, working yourself up so much that you can no longer breathe. 

“I could never hate you. I love you with every fiber of my being, okay? For better or worse remember, I’ll always be here,” he whispers, closing the distance between the two of you. His lips are chapped but you don’t care, your just happy he’s kissing you. And kissing you without the cries of protest from your girls. 

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Calum apologizes. “I never should have said any of those things to you. You’re a wonderful mom and the girls and I appreciate everything you do for us. And I’m sorry I got in the way of your dream when you never got in the way of mine.” 

“Maybe it wasn’t really my dream,” you mumble. “Being the manager at Butter and Grace would be great yeah, but it wouldn’t be mine. You know? I want to have my own restaurant where I call all the shots and curate my own menu.” 

“So then let’s make it happen.” 

You shake your head, biting your lip to stop them from curving into a smile. As nice as all of that sounds, you know there’s something else you want more than a restaurant of your own. 

“One day, maybe when Gracie’s in school and we have more time,” you smile. “For now, I just want to spend time with my family. Do you think it’s too late to call Ashton and go get the girls?” 

“It’s almost eight,” Calum says, glancing at the clock on his nightstand back to you. “Gracie’s probably asleep already.” 

You almost miss the smirk playing on Calum’s lips too caught up in your need to hug each of your daughters. But then you spot it, and soon Calum is adjusting his weight on the bed leaning back so that your laying flush on his chest. And then, he’s flipping you over, a giggle escapes your lips. 

“What are you doing?” you squeal. 

“Just spending time with my beautiful wife,” he smiles, this time with his eyes crinkled. “When was the last time we were home alone?” You try and think but end up shrugging your shoulders. Clearly, it’s been too long. “You know what that means right?” 

“We can order something that doesn’t include cheese and watch R rated movies?” 

“Mmm, you read my mind,” he smiles, kissing you quickly before helping you off the bed. “Go change into some pajamas. I’ll get the take out menus.” 

“I love you, you know?”