Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy or Waitress!

A/N: the first 7 chapters of this are reuploaded from a story I started back in 2019. I lost access to the account I was using and sadly never got to finish it, but after several songs from taylor swift's new album reminded me of calzona in this story I just had to get back into it! I sincerely hope this story finds its way back to all of the kind readers I had back then. I hope you all are well!

A bead of sweat began its agonizingly slow decent down Callie's forehead, and her nose twitched slightly at the irritant. She released a quick, frustrated breath, strong enough to momentarily blow the dark tendrils of hair that had fallen out of her loose ponytail away from her face, and wiped her temple with her forearm. It was early September and the heat in Sweetwine, Georgia didn't appear to be dying down any time soon.

Callie supposed that fact shouldn't have surprised her. After all, it was the deep south, and the sweltering weather never seemed to let up until October. So every citizen of Sweetwine—all 3,774 of them—would be doomed to thin, sticky layers of sweat coating their bodies and mosquitos gorging themselves on their blood and the stench of rotting peaches from the orchard up the road for at least another month.

It was a season she knew all too well. She was 29, closing in on 30, and had spent every summer of her life thus far in the little, suffocating town.

Swallowing that particularly unpleasant reminder down, Callie squinted her eyes at the clock on the kitchen wall. 5:38 AM, leaving her 22 minutes before the diner opened. Plenty of time, the brunette thought with a proud smile, as she rested her hands on her hips and admired the pie on the counter before her. Just a few more pecans painstakingly sprinkled on top and her famous chocolate bourbon pecan pie was perfect.

See, baking pies was kind of her thing, and it always had been. She had spent countless hours as a child walled up in the kitchen with her mother, learning everything she knew from her. It started when she was four and was finally allowed to pour the sugar after months of begging, and by the time she neared 14 she had perfected her craft and was inventing all sorts of eccentric flavors of her own. Strawberry guava. Deep dish blueberry bacon. Banana cream cheese. And over two dozen more of her original creations.

And, not that she was cocky or anything, but they were good. Each day, the diner she worked at—Monday's Place Diner, the only place to grab a bite to eat within miles—would feature a different Callie Moore specially made pie. It drew in regulars daily and was regarded as a bit of a local treasure in their small town.

Today was chocolate bourbon pecan day, a flavor she had invented her senior year of high school, nearly 12 years prior. It had been nearing midnight on a Friday, and she and her childhood best friend were tipsy off of bourbon they had stolen from her dad's liquor shelf. With the smoky-sweet taste of charred oak on her lips, her mind started racing, and the only way she could get it to stop was to bake. And bake she did, for hours, until she and her friend lay drunk on the kitchen floor, giggling and covered in flour and feeding each other bites of Callie's newest invention.

"Callie!" a deep voice barked for her attention, startling the brunette out of the nostalgic haze she had fallen into. She scowled at the man it belonged to, smoothing her hands over her apron and clearing her throat in an attempt to regain her composure. She could be a bit jumpy when frightened. Her heart hammered loudly against her ribcage, even as she was mustering the most carefree looking smile she could manage.

"Fuck, Mark, you scared me. Good morning to you too." Mark was her boss, the sole manager of the diner. He was a good ten years older than her, far too crass to ever be considered a professional, and, well, a textbook asshole, but in a weird way he was also a friend. Callie liked to think behind the gruff persona there was a decent man in there somewhere.

"Yeah, yeah," Mark waved her off, chewing on the end of a toothpick distractedly. "Get your ass moving, we open in ten. And make that coffee strong enough to chew."

But Callie was already maneuvering through the diner before Mark finished his sentence, propping her finished pie up neatly in its display case. With a piece of gritty chalk, she scratched the words Chocolate Bourbon Pecan in her feminine handwriting on the diner's 'Pie of the Day' board. She brewed the day's first pot of coffee and joined her favorite coworker and closest friend, Addison, near the front door, where she was wiping down the glass in preparation for their first customer.

"Morning, Ads," Callie singsonged, with a subtle southern drawl that was uniquely Georgian.

The redhead looked up from her busy work, and her green eyes narrowed slightly, lips pursed together in suspicion at the carefree smile on her friend's face. She knew instantly it was ingenuine. "Morning, Cal. Did ya do it yet?" she pried.

The Latina's grin faded instantly, her vertebrae straightening up in one rigid motion. Her voice lowered to almost a whisper, lest Mark or the other waitresses overhear. "Addison, can you give it a rest already?" she hissed, hands uncomfortably wringing the sides of her apron. "You've been pressing me about this for weeks now."

"Maybe because I'm serious, Cal. And I'm pressing you because I'm genuinely worried, not just to fuck with you," she answered with a shrug of her shoulders. Callie hated the tone of Addison's voice. She sounded truly worried, truly genuine, which was so unlike the little fireball that it nearly made the brunette nauseous.

Or maybe she really was nauseous.

She held one hand to her mouth and another to her stomach, standing almost statuesque still, willing the wave of nausea to pass. When it finally did, she was pale and clammy, but proud of herself for managing to get through the first hour of the day without vomiting. She ignored the pointed look Addison was giving her, and instead focused on retying her hair up with the yellow ribbon she wore in her hair daily. "Not now, okay?" Callie pleaded tiredly, eyes diverting to the parking lot visible through the front windows. "Good old Richard is here anyway, so we better open up." And with a skip she was off, and smiling, and chirping "welcome to Monday's Place, darling, what can I get started for you?" in the sweetest voice to the familiar faces trickling in, as if her life wasn't teetering on the borderline of collapse. She had gotten so good at putting on a show for the customers. Smiles meant tips and tips meant Luke was less likely to come home angry. These days, avoiding angry days was her biggest focus.

She stopped in front of Richard, an elderly man that happened to be one of their most loyal regulars. He was in every morning, like clockwork, with the daily paper, and Callie knew his order by heart. She still let him say it every morning though, because she was pretty sure he liked to. He was bossy and a little rude and a horrible tipper, but the Latina had a soft spot for him anyway. She waited on him every morning, after the other girls had long ago started refusing to.

"Mornin', Richard," Callie beamed, standing on her tiptoes and pretending to peer over the man's newspaper. "What's the paper got to say about Aries today?"

"You kids and all your damn voodoo magic these days," Richard grumbled, snapping the paper out of the waitress' line of vision. "A bunch of nonsense is what that is, pie girl. Maybe if your generation learned how to grow up, we'd have less of it."

"I think we could all use a little more magic," Callie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Richard never once called her by her name, it was always 'pie girl' or, on special days, 'yellow ribbon'. She thought it was funny, and she was always excited to see which nickname she'd get. She liked riling him up on his long rants, too. She figured he was lonely, and if he needed someone to debate with and gripe at and just… talk to, well, she had nothing better to do. She raised one eyebrow in curiosity, childlike innocence in her eyes. "Well?"

With a deep sigh, Richard flattened his paper out on the table before him. It was already on the astrological column, just like it always was. Because he always gave in and read her horoscope to her every morning. It was part of the game. "Aries," he grumbled, straining his eyes over his glasses to read the small text. "Your thoughts are emotionally charged, Aries, but you'll find that this can be used to your advantage. You have a great deal of knowledge at your disposal, and you aren't afraid to throw in a little drama just for the fun of it. Your dramatic flair will take you far on a day like today. Don't hesitate to get exactly what you want."

Callie shot him a grin. "I've decided I want a million bucks. Wanna split it fifty-fifty?"

Callie swore she almost saw him start to laugh, but as quickly as it came it was gone again. "I wanna get some damn food is what I want. And why is it so hot in this god forsaken dump? Tell that sorry excuse of a boss of yours to turn the air on," he demanded, bossy as ever, eyes narrowed in accusation. Callie nodded gently, raising her pencil to her pad to take his order, though she knew she didn't really need to. It was the same every day. "I want two eggs, scrambled, and a piece of toast, but on a different plate, not touching. And a cup of coffee. But bring it after my meal. And a water before my meal. Make sure the coffee's steaming. And make sure the water's not too cold. Hurts my teeth." He turned his head to the pie of the day board, narrowing his eyes. "And a slice of your chocolate bourbon pecan pie. A good slice, too. Don't you try and gyp me."

Callie smiled patiently at the patron, nodding her head, kind as ever. "Coming right up, Richard. Be sure to read up on your horoscope too. You're a Virgo, y'know," a cheeky wink and she was gliding away to her next table before he could start up another rant. She really did enjoy his company, as strange as it was. She had taken his order nearly every morning for close to eleven years and knew little about the man other than his name. He apparently never bothered to even learn hers, but that was fine. She had grown used to being invisible. Smile, sprinkle in some southern bless your hearts and how do you dos, and go on your way. A carbon copy of an old routine.

The hours passed in a blur, as they normally did during a particularly busy shift. Sweetwine was small, but Monday's Place was the only diner in the area that was clean and had decent food, so it was always crowded by Sweetwine standards. It was even kind of cute, in the old-fashioned neon lights, checkered floors, and red booths kind of way.

The place hadn't changed since before Callie had been born. Sometimes when she sat at the booth in the corner, she felt like she was 15 again, sitting across from her best friend over milkshakes and working on their chemistry homework together. Callie had always ordered strawberry with extra cherries, and she had always gotten vanilla with marshmallows. God, she had loved marshmallows, and donuts, and sugar in general, really. And chemistry. She was so smart, she always ended up tutoring Callie in all of her science classes. They'd study until they couldn't focus anymore, then scrap together their last quarters to play Etta James or The Supremes on the old jukebox and dance together until past their curfews.

Glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching, Callie lightly brushed her fingertips over that very jukebox, a sad smile ghosting over her lips. It had broken long ago, and now only remained in the diner for decorative purposes. But, god, what she wouldn't do to hear it play My Girl just one last time. That had always been her favorite.

A loud bell jingled, signaling the front door opening. She closed her eyes briefly, mustering the energy within herself to plaster a smile on her face. She was exhausted and her body ached. She had been on her feet for over five hours without a single moment to herself, but she supposed that was a good thing. Kept her mind from wandering too far, like it had just done.

She whipped around with her signature grin, pearly whites that had everyone wrapped around her finger, and a friendly "welcome to Monday's Place" was already halfway out of her mouth when her mind registered who the customer was. Her smile faltered on instinct and she rushed to correct it, clearing her throat softly. "Luke, honey, what a surprise." Her eyes drifted from the tall man, his flannel darkened with dirt and sweat, to the clock on the wall. It was only 12. He wasn't supposed to be off work until 5. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't see my wife?" he asked, his southern accent thick. He wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and looked Callie up and down, before plopping himself down at one of the empty tables. "Where's my kiss?"

Callie forced a tight smile, leaning in to kiss her husband gently on the cheek. She had married Lucas Moore ten years prior, when she was 19, after knowing him for under a year. She had been young and on her own and he had promised her the world, so she said yes, desperate for some kind of family or financial stability. She hadn't imagined the decision would lead her here, in a loveless marriage, stuck in her hometown and working doubles at the diner every week to provide for them. "Of course you can, I'm sorry. I'm just surprised is all." She began pouring him a cup of coffee and preparing him a plate of pie, cringing internally when he propped his feet up on the table she had just cleaned. "How was work?"

"Work was shit. My boss is a dick. Said he's cutting my hours 'cause I was late too many times," Luke scoffed, as if the idea was completely outrageous. "I mean, can you believe that shit? Me? I'm the guy's best worker!" He stuffed his mouth full with a bite of dessert, not bothering to chew before he finished talking. "Well, he's a dumbass. He'll see."

Callie felt her stomach lurch at the news, but she tried her hardest to keep her face neutral. "He will see. I'm sorry, baby," she offered sympathetically. She chewed on the inside of her cheek in an attempt to keep herself calm, her eyes fleeting around the diner and briefly connecting with Addison's. She looked at her sympathetically, then turned back to the table she was cleaning. "I, um, I really do need to get back to work now, sweetie, but I-" she was interrupted by a firm, strong hand on her wrist, pulling her closer to him. She flinched instinctively, but all he did was dip his hand into her apron pocket, fishing around for the cash tips she had made that day.

"What'd you make me?" he grunted, pulling out a small wad of cash. He looked visibly unhappy with what he found. "This it?"

"Yes," Callie answered meekly, biting her lower lip and adverting her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'll try, um… I'll try to do better."

"You better," he said lowly. It felt like a warning. It probably was one. He shoveled his last bite of pie into his mouth and stood up, giving Callie's ass a slap. "Be good, and I'll see ya at home." He narrowed his eyes at her, scraping them up and down her body in examination. "Are your tits getting bigger?" He questioned, nodding his head toward the pie on the counter. "Maybe lay up on the sweets, baby," he laughed. And then he was kissing her and then he was leaving and then, in a whirlwind, Callie was on her knees in the bathroom, emptying her stomach into the toilet in front of her.

Because her body was starting to change. And she had been getting sick for weeks. And she really couldn't ignore it for much longer. She splashed her face with cold water and washed up, startling a bit when a sharp knock sounded on the bathroom door. "Cal?" a familiar voice called. Addison. The brunette sighed and wordlessly unlocked the door, but she didn't make an effort to open it for her friend.

Not that she needed to. Within seconds, the redhead was in the cramped bathroom with her, pulling a little pink box out of her apron. She had bought her a pregnancy test, Callie realized, her cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. "Come on honey, you've waited long enough. It's better to know," Addison said, handing the box over to her friend. There wasn't a single ounce of judgment in her green eyes, just genuine support. It made Callie feel a little better. "It'll all be alright."

Callie sighed in defeat. She knew she had little choice at this point. She scratched at the box with her painted forest green nails, pulling the stick out and scrunching her face up. "God, Addison, how'd I get myself into this mess?"

Addison tilted her head curiously, arching a manicured eyebrow. "I thought you didn't sleep with Luke much anymore?" She turned to face the wall, giving Callie as much privacy as she could in the tiny washroom.

A humorless laugh reverberated off the tile walls. "I don't. It was only one night, and I had on that stupid red dress. He got me drunk, and I do stupid things when I'm drunk, like sleep with my husband."

"Oh, I love that red dress! It goes so well—"

"Really not the point here, Ads."

She grinned. "Okay, well, maybe it'll still only be one line. Maybe his swimmers are just as useless as he is and—"

"I can't do this. I just… I can't believe this. I never wanted this. One night and my whole life is ruined."

"Don't go there, Callie," Addison sighed, squeezing her eyes shut at her failed attempt to distract the Latina. "Not yet anyway. We don't know what the test says." She clicked her tongue against her teeth, turning around once Callie had finished up and was washing her hands. Just three minutes until they finally knew. For better or worse, at least the wondering would end. "If it makes you feel any better, I think Derek is cheating on me. Again."

Callie pressed against the bathroom wall, staring up at the ceiling as she waited for the painfully slow three minutes to tick by. "I'd ask why you're even still married to him at this point, but we both know I'm the last person that should be talking." Which earned a laugh from Addison. She lowered her gaze from the ceiling to look at her friend, brown eyes softening. "You really do deserve better though."

The redhead shrugged, gesturing to the cramped space between them. "I think both of us deserve a little more than this, but it is what it is." She hesitated, then reached out to take Callie's hand. They were close and trusted one another, but it was incredibly rare that they were sentimental or serious like this. "Even if it's positive, Cal, you could still leave him. You could crash with me and Derek for a little while, get back on your feet…"

Callie shook her head, willing herself to push away the tears prickling at her eyes and pulling her hand out of the pale woman's grip. "He would never let me leave him. He'd just… find me. And besides, he takes every penny I earn, I could never save up enough to even afford my own pair of shoes, let alone an entire life. Not without him noticing."

Before Addison could argue, the alarm on her phone echoed loudly, making them both jump. The test was ready. Callie paled several shades and ran her hands over her face. There was no turning back now.

She held the small test in her hands, brown eyes focusing on the two lines before her.

Shit.

She felt green eyes on her, but she couldn't say anything. What could she possibly say? She had an unwanted little parasite growing inside of her, and any tiny piece of hope she had left for a new life for herself crumbled instantaneously.

Shit.

She finally worked up the courage to meet her friend's eyes and was disheartened to see the absolute heartbreak and fear in them. Addison knew what this meant for her too.

Shit.

Saved by the bell, a loud pounding from the opposite side of the door snapped them both back to the present. Callie shoved the test into her pocket and wiped her watering eyes as Mark yelled, "Ladies! If you could wrap up the slumber party in there, we have customers waiting on your lazy asses." He hit the door one final time before walking away, grumbling.

Addison grabbed her wrist before Callie could open the door. "I'll get an appointment set up for you, okay? So Luke doesn't suspect anything before you're ready."

Callie mustered a pitiful smile. "Thank you, Addison," she mumbled quietly. She meant it. She didn't know what she would do without her friendship. She wiped her eyes one last time, released a shaky breath, and plastered on a smile for the customers before opening the door.

She felt like a puppet sometimes. Go through your motions, say your lines, wear your costumes, all with that stupid fucking smile on your face. Again and again and again. Every day. Nothing was wrong. Everything was perfect. The patrons and her boss and her husband and her family would take and take and take much more than she could ever give, but she would smile. She would always smile. Show them how god damn happy you are.

"Hi, sweetie, welcome to Monday's Place, what can I get started for you?"

A/N: Thank you so much for reading my first story! I will continue if anyone is interested, so please leave me a few reviews. Arizona will be introduced formally in the next chapter :)