Chapter 22.

Callie rolled over, too warm under the sheets, the morning sunlight shining on her face. Stretching, she parted her eyelids and smiled. Brandon was beside her, propped up on his elbow, just staring at her.

"Good morning, baby," he mumbled.

"Morning," she replied with a yawn. "How long have you been up?"

"A little while," he admitted, reaching over to stroke her messy hair. "I was just watching you sleep."

"Why?" she asked, merely curious. She'd never met anyone who was so fascinated with her small life, except him. And Sophia, now that she thought about it. It was no wonder her sister and Brandon got along so well.

He smiled softly. "It's always going to be like this now, isn't it?"

She laid her hand on his arm, rubbing his bicep tenderly. "What do you mean?"

"Us, going to sleep together, and waking up together," he explained. "You're going to be the first person I see every morning. I just can't get over it."

Callie nodded, unable to contain her grin. "It is pretty wonderful."

"Did you know you snore?" he asked with a laugh.

"Me?" she gasped dramatically. "I most certainly do not."

"Do so," he teased, pressing his lips to her neck. "And it's adorable. You talk in your sleep, too."

"Do not," she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Do too."

"Fine," she laughed. "What did I say?"

He scratched the side of his head thoughtfully. "I believe it was something along the lines of 'Please, Brandon. Harder.'"

"You lie," she giggled, smacking him with her pillow.

"Okay, okay," he relented. "So I made that part up. But you really do snore."

"Do not," she pouted, as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

"I love you," he whispered, their lips parting with a soft smack.

She curled up against him, encircling his waist. "I love you too."

As they lay there, holding each other, Callie thought back to the night before. Starved for each other, she and Brandon had made love, frantically and desperately, over and over; nothing else had mattered but relieving the ache in their bodies from being apart. They only stopped when they were too tired to keep their eyes open. It was the most passionate night of her life.

"You know what's weird?" she asked, tracing his nipple with her finger.

"Hmm?" He'd been staring up at the ceiling, but her turned to look at her through soft, sleepy eyes.

"I'm not afraid of you," she told him.

"Should you be?" he replied, amused. The corners of his beautiful lips turned up in a half-smile.

She shrugged. "You remember those panic attacks I used to have, after Wyatt and I tried to be together?"

"Yes," he nodded, more soberly. He wasn't thrilled to hear Callie say Wyatt's name, but he ignored the sting of jealousy. There could be worse times to hear Wyatt's name in bed.

"Well," she said. "I've never felt that way with you. Not ever. When I was with him, I felt like I was going to suffocate. I couldn't breath. With you, I feel free. And Beautiful, and loved."

"Maybe you're not afraid of me because you know I have good intentions?" he offered. "You know you're safe with me, and that we're meant to be together."

She nodded, chewing her lower lip. "Yeah."

Brandon pulled her closer, their foreheads resting against each other.

After breakfast, Brandon announced that he was taking her to see the new apartment. They walked, holding hands, leaning against each other for shelter from the cold December wind. The landlord met them at the door of Mat's former apartment, and unlocked it for them.

"Thank you," said Brandon, guiding Callie inside.

Callie looked around a spacious, airy living room. She tried to imagine a Christmas tree set up in front of the large windows, and she couldn't help but smile.

"What do you think so far?" he asked.

"It's pretty," she replied honestly. She crossed the room to the kitchen; it was partitioned off the living room by a counter and cupboards, so it was open and casual. The walls were painted sky blue, and a refrigerator hummed in the corner.

"Enough room for a nice kitchen table?" Brandon asked, joining her.

"Definitely," she nodded. "Can I see the bedroom?"

"Yeah." He guided her down a narrow hall off the kitchen, and opened a door. "Here it is."

She was met by a hardwood floor and cream-colored walls. "I love this," she sighed.

"I knew you would," he said, squeezing her shoulder. "And now, the bathroom."

Callie followed him through another door, which opened into the modest-sized bathroom. She looked around, inspecting the bathtub and toilet, when something small and brown darted past her, under the sink. She squealed in fright.

"What is it?" Brandon asked, turning to her.

"I saw a mouse," she panted. "Over there."

"Oh," he nodded. "Well, I mean, that's not unusual. We could always set traps."

"I guess so," she shrugged, shuddering. They went back into the hall, and Callie noticed one more door, partially open. "What's in there?"

"Oh. I think it's another bedroom," he told her, going to the door. Behind it was a room half the size of the other one. "We could use this room for storage," he suggested. "Or we could put another bed in here for when Sophia stays over."

Or a crib for a baby, Callie thought to herself, though she didn't say it out loud. She wasn't even sure where the thought had come from, except that it was a tiny room, perfect for a tiny person.

When they came back to the living room, Brandon took her in his arms, so close their noses touched. "What do you think, babe? Can't you see us living here?"

She looked around once more, and smiled broadly. "You know... I can."

He nodded, pleased. "Do you want to go for it?"

"Yes," she said, gripping his shoulders. "Please."

"Good," he sighed, hugging her tight. "I'm so glad. Because my lease runs out after the new year."

The wonderful thing about being with Brandon, Callie thought, was that they didn't have to talk all the time. They were silent as they walked home, simply enjoying each other's company; she knew they were both thinking about the apartment, which they'd just finished filling out the rental agreement for.

But she broke the pleasant silence as they passed a used furniture store. "Oh my gosh," she breathed, approaching the storefront window.

"What is it?" Brandon asked, going to her side.

"Look at that table," she said, pointing. "Just look at it."

"It's nice," he nodded.

"Nice?" she gasped. "It's gorgeous."

"Let's go in and take a look," he suggested, opening the glass door for her.

The store was crowded with furniture of all kinds, newer stuff and antiques. Callie ran her hand over the smooth wooden table top appreciatively.

"There's some scratches on it," Brandon pointed out, looking it over. "But it's solid."

"I like the scratches," she replied. "It means it's been loved. And now it can be loved by us." She fingered the chairs, tracing the cut-out backs.

"You really like it, don't you?" he asked.

She nodded, speechless.

Brandon picked up the price tag, and his eyes went wide with shock. "Oh my word."

Callie looked over his shoulder, read it, and nodded. "I've got it."

"Baby," he sighed. "It's beautiful, but it's too much."

She shook her head. "I can afford it."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I'm a trust fund baby now, remember?"

"Okay then," he finally agreed with a smile. "I guess we found our table."

After their purchase was made, and they'd arranged for delivery, they went on their way.

"It's strange," said Brandon, as they walked together. "I kind of forgot that you're rich. You're still just the same Callie I've always loved."

"Well, this is kind of my first splurge," she admitted. "Besides my car, I mean."

"You haven't done anything crazy with your money?" he asked, matching her steps."No solid gold limo?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I got access to half of my trust fund when I turned eighteen. I don't get the rest until I graduate college. I plan to save most of it, and make sure Jude is taken care of, of course."

"Oh," he nodded. "Wow. That's really admirable, Callie." He smiled. "You're a great big sister."

"I try to be," she confided. "You wouldn't have known we were poor growing up if you'd seen my mom. She was beautiful, Brandon. Like, movie star gorgeous. And she always dressed nice, and kept us neat and clean. But my dad was a heavy drinker, and he never kept a job for very long. I think all they had in their bank account was like, five cents. It was scary, living paycheck-to-paycheck, and knowing we had nothing to fall back on. Even as a kid, I knew."

She sighed, before going on. "It makes me feel good to know that my own children won't ever have that fear someday. They won't, you know, have to wonder where their next meal is coming from, or feel embarrassed because they're the only ones in their class who can't afford school pictures."

She stopped. Blushing, she wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry," she apologized, looking away.

"They wouldn't have to," Brandon told her, taking her cold hands between his, warming them.

"What?" she asked, turning her head to face him.

"Go without," he explained. "Our kids. I would never let that happen."

To Be Continued