Eight Months Later

 

Kensley

 

I wake up in the hospital bed and can hear Liam talking to the kids.

Or rather, to Sawyer.

“Smile, half pint.”

I lift my eyes but stay still, wanting to watch without being noticed. Not that Sawyer would care. She’s in a mood.

On the couch across from the bed, Liam sits with our big girls while Ryan plays on a blanket on the floor, pushing his favorite truck. Even I can tell the boy is bored. He’s a month shy of four, and as anxious to move as his father is.

It doesn’t matter that Ryan doesn’t have Liam’s blood in his veins; he still picked up on many of Liam’s traits.

London is curled up in the corner, her knobby knees drawn up to her chest as she reads her favorite Magic Treehouse book. She still has a foot in make believe, my sweet London.

Meanwhile, Sawyer sits on Liam’s lap, frowning.

She’d done really well when we brought Ryan home.

…But Liam should have been better prepared for this.

“I’m tired,” Sawyer says stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, you are, but that’s not why you’re mad.”

Sawyer, in all her five-year-old glory, doesn’t even bother to direct her glare at her daddy, but instead, at the bassinet beside my bed.

“I don’t like her.”

I watch Liam fight a grin. He’s trying hard to be straight faced. Sawyer…

Sawyer’s a sweetheart.

And she loves her daddy fiercely.

But she has an attitude that puts London’s to shame.

When she’s mad, when she’s hurt…watch out world. Hurricane Sawyer is coming your way.

“She’s too new to not like,” Liam grins, hugging her. “Plus, she probably won’t ever like your toys. You’re almost six years older than Lea. You just get to be the awesome big sister.”

If anything, Sawyer’s scowl deepens.

Her glare intensifies.

Liam and I talked about this.

Briefly.

Not nearly as much as we should have, apparently. But it was something that I’d thought about off and on—over the last month, especially.

Sawyer is Liam’s half pint. His buddy. His constant shadow.

But now there’s a new baby.

And a new girl baby, at that.

I choose to break through my quiet. “Why don’t you come look at her, Sawyer? She’s really cute. I think you’ll think so too.”

I press a button on the bed to make the back go up, wincing slightly at the pain in my abdomen.

Miss Lea Alexandra Hardt thought it would be super fun to stay warm and cozy for forty-one-and-a-half weeks.

Super fun.

Which meant she got to be that ten-twelve Liam once joked about.

The difference?

Our older three may have been born with cheeks for days, but apparently Liam brought melon heads with him in his genetics, and Lea got stuck, resulting in an unexpected C-section.

Like I said.

Super fun.

“I don’t wanna.” Sawyer is so stubborn.

London swings her legs down and bookmarks her book. “Is she awake?”

I look over. Lea’s still sleeping, but her mouth is moving, suckling at air. It won’t be long before she is awake. “Almost. Why don’t you come over?”

London crawls up onto the bed beside me, under the watchful eye of Liam, of course, and looks at the baby. “She is cute. She looks like a baby doll.”

I nod. “She does. She’s going to have the same nose as all of you,” I say, poking London on the tip of her nose. “I think she has your daddy’s face, otherwise.”

London grabs the railing of the bed and is leaning over the bassinet. “She has no hair though.”

Liam stands then, holding Sawyer still, who—arms crossed over her chest—grunts her displeasure but doesn’t do anything to be put down.

He’s really going to have to stop carrying her. He knows it, too.

“C’mon, Ry Guy, let’s wash your hands so you can hold your sister.”

“No,” I say finally, answering London while watching my husband with our two middle kids. “But Ryan didn’t either. Neither did Sawyer.”

“Did I?”

“A headful of black hair.”

London gasps. “But my hair is blonde.”

I nod. “It is. But you had so much black hair, London. So much. And then it all fell out a few months later.”

London doesn’t believe it; I’ll have to show her pictures.

When Liam calls her over to the sink, she goes willingly, but with one last look at Lea.

If I have one kid who wants to be all up in the baby’s business, it’s definitely London.

It takes some coaxing, but eventually we get Sawyer to hold her sister, while sitting on the bed beside me. Liam takes all the pictures, so many pictures, and eventually, my mom comes back in the room—our parents, Sharon and Paul included, went out to dinner and would be taking the big kids back to our house shortly—and took our first, full-family picture. We took pictures of Liam and me right after Lea was born, but at the time, Sawyer wasn’t having it.

Finally, after Lea eats and the kids and grandparents leave, Liam climbs beside me in the bed. He won’t stay up here—he’ll eventually move to the couch—but he lays beside me for a while, holding Lea in his arms.

“I think,” I say into the darkening room, “I think Sawyer’s fear is that you’ll love Lea more.”

Liam frowns at me. “We’ve done everything to tell her that won’t be the case. I love her and London equally, why would it be different with Lea?”

I stare at him a moment. He’s the only father Sawyer consciously knows.

But she has pictures. Not many, but she has pictures from when she was a baby.

She knows…

“Because Lea’s yours.”

I see him open his mouth to refuse it, but he closes it quickly, working his jaw.

And his eyes fill with tears.

“Liam…”

“I won’t play favorites, just because she has my DNA,” he finally says, his voice thick with emotion. “I love our kids, so fucking much.” His voice breaks on the last half. “So much. Those kids look like you. Lea’s probably going to look like me. Sorry, kid.” He leans down to kiss her forehead, and she suckles at the air again. “But that does not change how I feel about them.”

“I know that. But I think that’s where Sawyer’s head is.”

“I’m going to pull her from school tomorrow.”

I turn my head and smile into his arm. The stubbornness in his voice…

Oh, you thought Sawyer got that from me, didn’t you?

Pride, sure.

Stubborn?

That’s all Liam.

“She and I are playing hooky tomorrow and having a daddy-daughter date.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” I say into his arm, then lift my chin. It takes him a second, but he gets with it, and presses a kiss to my lips. “We’ll hopefully be released in the morning, and Sharon said she’d take the girls to school, keep Ryan occupied... You can pick Sawyer up from the school. That way, London doesn’t say anything.”

“You’ve thought about this."

I nod. “I have. I noticed little things the last few weeks,” I pause before adding, “She also brought out her picture book.”

Liam’s sigh is heavy with emotion. “Well, now I feel like shit.”

I laugh lightly and rest my head to his shoulder. “Don’t. She’ll be fine. She just needs a day with you.”

“You’re a smart one, Kensley Hardt,” he says after another moment.

We sit in the darkening room, in silence. But it’s a comfortable silence.

I love watching Liam with our kids. He’s so damn good with them, and watching his big hands, gently cradling Lea…it makes my heart so incredibly happy.

I lucked out with this guy.

Lea goes to breast one last time before Liam moves to the couch, but before he does, he kisses me deeply, thoroughly, well.

“I love you,” he whispers, and I whisper the words back.

Then, when he’s on the pull-out couch, I listen into the quiet room for the words I know he’ll whisper.

The words that he whispers almost every night.

“Thank you.”

For me.

For the girls.

For Ryan.

For the life he unexpectedly found himself in.

“Thank you,” I whisper back.

For the fairy tale.

For the real life.

For the love.

For the future.

 

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