Liam

 

Sharon and Paul bring the girls to the hospital at eight, allowing Kensley to get rest after her fast delivery. When asked what she was naming the little boy—little, because he was only nine-ten, thanks to being two weeks early—she looked at me as she answered.

Ryan William Cole.

Unlike the girls, she wasn’t giving the baby Mark’s last name. “He can fight for him,” Kensley told me, stubbornly, after. “And it will piss him off that the baby’s named for you.”

I was absolutely humbled by that.

By the fact that Ryan’s name was my middle, and that his middle was, basically, my first—not that my parents named me William, but Liam was often derived from it.

At around nine that morning, after a three-way video chat with both mine and Kensley’s parents, Sawyer and I head down to the cafeteria. We’re on our way back with a bag full of a hodgepodge of items when we run into Mark.

When I see him turn the corner, I’m not sure how Sawyer will react.

Would she reach for him?

Talk to him?

Or, because—at least, as far as Kensley and I know—it’s been four months since Sawyer saw him last, would she not even know who he is?

What I do know is I can’t very well run away from the man so, with Sawyer on my hip and the bag in hand, I stay in the hallway, waiting for him to reach us.

The asshole doesn’t even look at Sawyer.

Doesn’t acknowledge her.

I see fucking red.

But then Mark holds out a manila envelope. “Termination of alleged father. For all three. Congratulations, asshole.”

I’m too stunned to do anything about his word choice in front of Sawyer. Mark turns, leaving as quickly as he came, not allowing for any elaboration.

I shift Sawyer and the bag to look inside the envelope, needing to see it.

Maybe it’s a joke. Maybe the papers aren’t his termination of paternity, but are actually him contesting it.

Sure enough, though, inside the envelope are three signed copies of his termination papers.

Grinning, I look at Sawyer, who thankfully doesn’t look like any of it affected her. “It’s a good day, half-pint. A really good day.”

She has zero clue what’s going on, but the smile on her face is enough for me. In that way she does, Sawyer pats my cheeks then struggles to get down. Carefully, I set her on her feet and take her hand, heading back through the corridors and to the elevators.

“That one,” I tell her once we’re inside one, pointing to the appropriate floor. She has to stand on tiptoes to do it, but when her small finger presses it, I press the button harder. “Good job, Sawyer.” She smiles and bounces on her feet.

Kensley’s been giving me hell for carrying Sawyer all the time. Says she’s not going to learn to be independent.

I let her be independent.

Sometimes.

I chuckle at the thought. Sawyer’s my pal, though. I don’t love one girl over the other, or the girls more than the baby, but there’s an unmistakable bond between me and Kensley’s littlest girl, and there has been since day one.

“Alright, lady,” I say, watching the numbers of the floors illuminate. I crouch down so Sawyer can wrap her arms around my neck, and soon again, I’m holding her and heading toward the room our family is all in.

We’ll be back to the house before Kensley’s and my parents make it to town, but the room is plenty crowded with Sharon and Paul. Additionally, there’s Mae and Josh, who’s sitting on the couch, coloring alongside London.

I’m surprised to see Johnson and his wife in the room too.

“Hey, man,” I say, lowering Sawyer to the ground. She goes running into Sharon’s arms, and I allow Johnson to pull me in for a man-hug.

“Congrats.”

“Thank you.” I grin at him. “Didn’t realize you’d want to come by.”

“Of course, I did, dippy.” I was thankful he chose the abbreviated version of ‘dip shit’; he may have left the road life, but the road life didn’t leave the man. “Cute kid.” He nods to the baby sleeping in Kensley’s arms.

A baby I want to hold.

“Yeah, he is.” I grin at him, then wink at Kensley. “She makes cute babies.”

I’m dying to talk about the papers I have, but don’t figure Kensley’s wants to talk about them in front of an audience. I set them on the counter and start to distribute waters and snacks.

It’s only when Johnson and his wife, and Mae and Josh, leave, that Sharon holds up her phone.

“I got a message earlier; while you were downstairs, Liam,” she says, walking over. The girls are surprisingly asleep—not hard to do when napping alongside their grandfather, though. Paul has one girl on either side of him and all three are out. Even Ryan is zonked out in his bassinet.

I’ve got an ass-cheek on the bed, sitting beside Kensley. “Did you?” I shift so I can sit beside Kens better, toeing off my shoes before kicking my feet up. She curls into my side, no doubt exhausted. I lift my arm to give her better access, then bring her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple quickly.

“Mmm. I did. Did you have a run-in downstairs?”

I frown. How did she…?

“What run-in?” Kensley asks, looking up at me for clarification.

Well, I can’t lie to her. And it’s not exactly something I want to keep from her. Hell, I would have jumped into the room, going all Tom Cruise on her, if the room had been free of family and friends.

“Sawyer and I ran into Mark downstairs.” Kensley pushes back a little, to frown up at my face. “Turns out, he wanted to relinquish his rights. He gave me papers. They’re over there.” I nod toward the counter that the now empty bag sits on.

Kensley’s face goes through a myriad of emotions—shock, pleasure, happiness, and lastly, confusion.

“But what about yesterday?” she asks me, but it’s not me who has an answer.

It’s Sharon.

“When Liam picked up the girls yesterday, he explained that Mark had paid you two a visit. He also said that Mark may have been scoping out the house. For that, Kensley, I apologize. I had your new address on the fridge, and I wasn’t thinking when I put it there. He must have copied it at some point. But I was so mad when I heard he came by yesterday.”

I love watching Sharon talk. She reminds me of everyone’s favorite grandmother; it’s no wonder that the girls love her so much, and that Kensley doesn’t want to lose her in our lives.

“So, I met him at the house, and I told him how disappointed I was in him. I also informed him that his father and I would be writing him out of our wills if he did so much as harm a hair on those girls’ heads. He doesn’t want the kids; he just wants to watch you suffer, and I refuse to sit by and watch him do that to you. Love and goodness is so much more important than a last name. I gave him options; I’m happy to see he chose the correct one.”

“You can’t write him out—” Kensley starts, but Sharon pulls her scolding face on her.

“I can do whatever I darn well please, Kensley Ann. And I will use that to my advantage, to see you and your babies cared for. Loved.” Sharon steps to the bed and takes my hand in hers, squeezing it once before pressing a kiss to Kensley’s forehead. “Liam can give those babies more love than my son ever could. That makes me sad, but as long as you promise me that those babies will know who I am, I stand by my word. They do not need Mark in their lives, but they do need Liam. You need Liam.”

Kensley’s crying now, and I can’t even hug her—Sharon’s doing that.

Then Sharon looks to me, schooling me. “You will love those babies like they are your own. Do you hear me, Liam?”

“I already do.”

And I did.

Whatever last name they had, I loved them completely and forever.

I was more than happy being the step-father. I was honored that Kensley chose me to be that person for her kids.

But putting Hardt on all three of those kids?

It made my heart freaking soar.

Life couldn’t get much better than this.