Evolve Series Box Set (100 page)

“Me too,” I sigh, tipping my head left to help his cause.

“Then why you’d pull back? You never really told me.”

I flip over and grab his cheeks, stroking them and looking him directly in the eye. “I refused to believe I was as great of a package as you seem to think, and I guess I’m a glass half empty girl. When I didn’t know for sure all I might lose if you ran, I could deal, pretend we had more time as friends. But once I felt you, really felt the instant you became the other part of me, thinking of how much harder it’d hurt when you ran? It shredded me; all at once I had so much more to lose. I was scared.” I pause, collecting my thoughts while sampling his sweet lips. “I thought if I gave you up slowly, and first, by the time you did leave, I’d be used to it. But then, I slept without you. I ate without you. Something was funny and I’d turn to tell you, but you weren’t there. I couldn’t do it. I’m not strong enough to let you go. I already had a “forgive me” letter written; I was gonna hand it to you and run, but then I had to call about…you know. I’m selfish and scared and new to feeling like this, but I’m hoping you’ll love me anyway.”

“You’re as far from selfish as one can possibly get. And I love you for all you are, not even though.” He drops a delicate kiss to my lips. “Never again though, Emmy, promise.”

“I promise,” I reassure him with a smile, a yawn taking me by surprise.

“Baby, I know you’re tired,” his hot breath is on my skin, “but can you stay awake for me to give you your birthday present?”

“This trip was my present. That bath was my present.”

He kisses the crook of my neck, along the slope of my shoulder, and chuckles.  “Pretty sure the bath was my present.  Hang on.” He gets out of the bed and goes to his suitcase where he pulls out a wrapped package.

“Sawyer, you got me too much,” I argue.

“Zip it.” He air smooches to soften the blow of his directive. “Happy birthday, Emmy.” He hands me the gift and climbs back beside me.

“When’s your birthday?”

“May fifteenth. Now open it.”

Peeling back the paper, I snicker at the excited man by my side, twitchy with anticipation more so even than me. “Oh my,” I gasp, moisture building in my eyes.

It’s a black leather journal with “Shorty” embossed on the front, accompanied by a black and gold pen. 

“Sawyer,” I turn to him, not quite sure what to say besides, “thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, love. No more tiny notepads in your back pocket. You deserve a big, badass place for your thoughts.”

I go in for a chaste kiss on his lips. “You still can’t read them.”

“Dammit,” he grumbles. “I can see your nipples but not your notes?”

My head falls back on my laugh. “They’re not notes!”

“Pussy but not your passages?”

“Better,” I set aside the gifts, “but still, no.”

CHAPTER 18

The Sweetest Things

***Emmett***

The birthday weekend with Sawyer was the happiest I’ve ever been in my life—and way too short. Driving home, I can actually feel my mood start to sour the closer we get to reality. Not that our real life isn’t spectacular, because he makes it so, but still…

He takes hold of my hand. “Babe, we can go back soon, I promise.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Lil’ bit.” He smiles. “Here, I got something for the baby.” He releases my hand to fiddle with the radio while driving. “The book said babies can hear voices and music, so… I give you…La Baby Lullabies.”

Me, the mother, should probably think of these things, but I must confess that it does something to me to watch him get so involved, so excited at his discoveries.

The first song is slow and peaceful, something about the moon. Not bad.  We smile at each other, an endearing moment of classical music that of course we both find painful to the ears, but good for our baby.

The second song is morbid, about falling out of a tree or a swing or something.  “Oh my God,” I gasp, shocked someone thought this song would comfort a baby. “That’s awful.  They said—”

“I heard.” He slams the “off” button. “Bastards.”

“I think Alex is a Bruno Mars baby.” I reach up, plugging in my phone and searching artists.

“Alex?” he asks, turning down “It Will Rain.”

“Cute, right? And unisex.”

Sawyer goes silent, highly unusual, and drops his shoulders. “Yeah, cute.”

“Hey,” my hand finds his now and squeezes, “what just happened? The CD was very sweet. We can try some other songs if you want.”

“That CD blew—babies falling to their deaths? Fuck Rock-A-Bye,” he grumbles, his grip on the steering wheel noticeably tightening.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Or something.”

“I guess I kinda thought we’d pick the baby’s name together,” he says softly.

Oh. Well, if a Sawyer pout isn’t the sexiest, most charming thing ever, I just don’t know what is. 

“God, you’re the best man alive,” I whisper, constantly astounded by the many sides of Sawyer. “Babe, I have to call the baby something and we don’t know what we’re having, so I thought Alex was a cute unisex nickname, for now. I wouldn’t pick the name without you. Promise.”

He cuts his eyes to me skeptically, that luscious bottom lip of his pulling up in the corner. “Alex works for now.”

“You let me know if you think of something better,” I suggest, hiding my smirk.

***

“Surprise!”

I look around my living room, startled. There are no balloons and nothing’s changed, the only occupants Laney, Bennett and Whitley, who are all three beaming at us and clapping. I’m not sure what the surprise is exactly, but I thank them anyway.

“I take it we’re good?” Sawyer asks them over my shoulder.

“Yes!” Whitley squeals, jumping up and down like we just won the lottery.

“We’ll be going,” Laney says with a grin, pulling the other two by their shirts. “We hope you like it, Emmett. All Sawyer’s idea.”

Bennett nods, confirming the credit to Sawyer.

Once he’s hugged them all and walked them out, he comes back wearing a huge smile of his own. “Come on.” He links our hands and leads me down the hall to the door of the spare bedroom. “Ready, mama?”

“Ready.”

He opens the door, stepping to the side to let me enter first. “Wow,” he whistles, “they nailed it.”

Oh. My. God.

If I closed my eyes and envisioned the exact, perfect space where I would want to lay my sweet baby down each night, this would be it.

He’d planned and executed my dream nursery.

The walls are green, with various critters and trees spread around the room—a few rabbits, a lamb, squirrels and the cutest little deer. And of course, one single butterfly flying toward the ceiling, where the paint becomes a pale blue and turns the ceiling into a perfect sky with clouds. This is what our precious Alex will see when looking up, kicking those tiny feet.

Covering the line between green and blue are swirly, scripted words around the entire perimeter of the room. “Always Kiss Me Goodnight,” then a heart, “Our First Miracle,” another heart, “Wish Upon a Star.”

Sawyer’s laugher shatters my trance. “What?” I ask.

He points above the closet. “‘Play ball.’ Not one I wrote down.” He shakes his head and grins. “Good ole Aunt Gidge.”

Aunt. I never dreamed it’d actually ever be, and there it is—this baby will have a family. I will have a family, the head of it the exact man I would have hand-picked if granted a wish.

“I can’t believe you did this.” I stand on my tiptoes, curling my arms around his shoulders. “It’s beyond perfect,” I take a deep breath, hoping the word pleading to be released doesn’t send him packing, “Daddy.”

“Daddy,” he repeats me on a breath. “Daddy,” he says again, as though taste testing it, followed closely by a tender look of delight. His dark blue eyes take on an unmistakable shine and he meets my forehead with his own, grinning. “Very cool.”

I fall in love with him all over again in that moment. “It suits you.” I pucker, offering my lips ‘cause I can’t reach his on my own.

He pauses, withholding his kiss. “Do you really like it? I didn’t want to overstep, but I saw it in a magazine and thought—”

“Magazine?”

He shrugs. “Doctor’s office. They really should be ashamed of how long they make people wait. Why even set appointment times if you’re never gonna hit them?”

“I don’t know,” I giggle at his exaggerated frustration, not at all a cover for the fact he’s embarrassed he reads the magazines. “But yes, I love this nursery, and you could never overstep because there is no line.”

“No lines, very promising,” he teases, pinching my butt.

“You are awful,” I titter, shaking my head. “We’re standing in the nursery.”

“That’s bad?” His brows furrow, but he recovers quickly. “I mean, that’s bad. Ok, so I thought tomorrow after class we could go pick out a crib together. I didn’t figure I’d push my luck, picking too much. And then the name thing. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about being a huge hypocrite.” He grabs the back of his neck, ducking his face.

“You know, I never have to worry about being mad at you. You get mad enough at yourself, for nothing, for both us.” I poke him in the stomach, unsuccessfully as my finger bends back against the firmness there, but he does lift his head to me now, grinning. “We can go look at cribs, sounds fun. Did you know, my gramma told me a story once, that when my mom was born, unplanned, eleven months after her older sister, they were so poor that they turned a dresser to the wall and used a drawer? True story.”

He scowls. “We’re getting a crib.”

“I know, silly, I’ve just always thought it was a cool story.”

“Cool story, babe, but do not tell it again.” He grumbles under his breath, something about babies falling from trees and being shoved in drawers, then finally returns the kiss I’ve been waiting for…but with a tight, grumpy mouth. “You done in here for now?”

“I guess so,” I take another look around, sighing wistfully.

“We can stay in here all night if you want.”

“No, I’m good, for now. Hey! Let’s walk over so I can thank the girls. This was so sweet of them.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty great. Remind me to tell you that story one day, how Laney and Whitley met and became friends, it’s a classic.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “But for now, you go on.” He caresses my cheek, kissing my forehead. “I’ll unpack the car and meet you down there.”

“You sure?” I pout, pathetically not wanting to be without him. After a few days locked away in Wonderland together, you get clingy I guess. “I could wait, and help.”

“Nope, you go. I’ll even start the laundry. Anything to buy time from hearing the play by play of every brushstroke from three possessed women.”

“Fine, but hurry.”

His right brow lifts. “Why Miss Emmett, are you jonesing for your man?” One hand snakes around and grabs my ass, pulling me against him. “I can fix that for ya.”

“Not in the nursery!” I shriek, disgusted, pushing at his chest.

I’m swept up before I can blink, both his strong hands lifting me and turning to leave the room. “I can fix that too. Pick a room.”

Damn he’s strong, and sexy…and so sly. I’m tempted, but resist. “Babe, I need to go say thank you.”

“He knew you were gonna say that.” He sets me down and looks at his dick with a sigh. “Sorry, bud. I was rootin’ for ya.”

CHAPTER 19

One Screw Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

***Sawyer***

At first, I thought Em had a specific crib in mind and knew where to get it and that was the reason she boycotted Babies ‘R Us, laughed at Brooke Ashley’s Boutique, and refused to exit the vehicle at Four Monkeys. I finally told her just to tell me where to go.

All I got was right, left, straight…which is how she got away with stopping me in front of a resale shop.

Am I snob? No. I wore shoes from The Salvation Army after one of my foster brothers outgrew them.

Am I gonna let my baby sleep on used shit? Hell no.

“Emmett, what the hell are we doing here? That mattress has a piss stain!” It does—the one mattress they choose to display out front and it’s been pissed on? Come on.

“Sawyer,” her soothing tone tries to placate me, “babies need lots of really expensive things and I have a budget. Alex will never know how fancy the crib was, but I bet he or she would notice if their ear keep hurting or their belly was empty. I have a budget based specifically on priorities.”

I love her planning, her organization and sensibility. I also love her, which is why I’m not going to bellow harshly at her. “Em,” I mock her calm tone, “there is no ‘I’ in “our baby’s budget exceeds pee-soaked hand-me-downs.” Oh yeah, I threw her some air quotes.

“Do you know what diapers, formula and doctor visits cost? Or medicine? Please,” she rubs her forehead, “don’t fight me on this. Let’s go in and see what they have.” Quibbling, I get out and walk around to her door, helping her out. “I’m sure we’ll find something great, trust me.”

An older woman spots the two suckers and zones in on us right when we walk in, and now we’re stuck. “Hi, can I help you guys?”

“We’re looking for a crib, and a new mattress.” She turns and smirks at me.

“Back here.” Sanford’s…daughter leads us through too tight, cluttered aisles. “Boy or girl?” she asks.

“We don’t know. We decided to let it be a surprise!” Emmett exclaims back to her.

Oh, I’m gonna spank her butt, the little twerp, saying it like sunshine rolling off her tongue…now. Lemme tell ya something—she did not agree with me on that without a whole lot of goading. Little in life surprises me, and I wanted this one, bad. And through my powers of prowlsuasion…I won.

“Cribs are pretty neutral and with some plain bedding, you should be fine. Okay, here’s some brand new mattresses, still in the plastic. And the cribs,” she takes another right turn, “are here. Now the used models are the ones on the floor, put together. But we do have some in boxes, mostly returns or overstocks.”