Sawyer nodded. “Everyone likes you. Well, I’m gonna go get dinner ready. Want a glass of wine?”
“I have a craving for a little eggnog. Do we have any?”
“Of course. You love eggnog.” He was back in half a minute with two glasses of eggnog. He handed her one, then clinked hers.
“Yum,” she said. “You don’t want help with dinner?”
“My job is reheating,” he said. “So no. You relax. It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes, per your mother’s very specific instructions.”
She flashed him a smile and sank onto the couch, Moose coming over and sitting in front of her, his head on her knee. Sawyer watched her give the dog a warm hug, wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms and hold her. But he was afraid to overwhelm her, and he had a feeling he should let her make any physical moves.
Over dinner they talked more about what they liked and didn’t, laughing more in twenty minutes than they had in the past three months. After dinner and cleaning up the kitchen together, they bundled up and took Moose on a long walk around the neighborhood, enjoying the holiday lights. Back home they watched a singing competition on TV, Maddie sitting very close beside him on the couch as she drank a little more eggnog. Then she yawned—twice—and they realized she’d better get to bed. It had been a long day for her, busier than either expected it’d be once she was discharged, and she could probably use the rest.
He followed her up the stairs, Moose trailing them. In their bedroom, she poked around her dresser drawers and pulled out blue flannel pj bottoms with little Woodstocks all over and a long-sleeved pink T-shirt.
“So...I’ll just change in the bathroom,” she said. “Is that weird?”
“Not at all. We just met this morning.”
She laughed. “It really does feel that way.”
It did feel that way. And not—at the same time. All their history was front and center in his head and heart, weighing heavily. He was taking a T-shirt and pair of sweats from the dresser when she came out of the bathroom. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail so her goose egg was even more prominent, the scratch beside it too.
“Which side of the bed is mine?” she asked.
“Window side. I’m the door side.”
“Ah,” she said, “so the robbers get you first.”
He smiled. “Exactly. And so I can roll out of bed and rush out if an emergency call comes in.”
She picked up the mystery on her bedside table and looked at the cover. “Am I reading this?”
“I think you just plucked it off the bookcase to pick up whenever I’d come in the bedroom—to avoid talking,” he said. “When you weren’t pretending to be sleeping.”
“Yeesh. That bad, huh?”
He looked at his wife, his beautiful Maddie, wishing he could say otherwise. “Yeah. There were recent moments, though, that even our stalemate couldn’t ruin. When I plugged in the Christmas tree for the first time. When Moose ate a stick that required a trip to the vet, and we were both so worried about him that we actually held hands in the vet’s office for the first time in forever.”
“Was Moose okay?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning toward him.
“Yeah.”
“But we weren’t. We’re not,” she amended. “I’m not sure I want to remember that, Sawyer.”
“Well, like I said, I’m prepared to give you ten kids. So, once your memory is back, we’re all set. We’ll start a family.”
She frowned. “But, Sawyer, you don’t want a baby. You’re only agreeing because you made a spiritual pact.”
“But I meant it. I’m prepared to have a baby.”
“Well, that’s not what Maddie-who-I-don’t-remember would want. That Maddie would want you to want to have a baby, a family of your own.”
He let out a breath, exhausted. “I don’t know that there should be conditions. A yes is a yes, right?”
“No. The yes was about something else. Having your wife back. Giving her what she wanted so badly because you made a bargain with the heavens. It’s not actually about what you want, Sawyer.”
“So what you’re saying is that I can’t win?” That came out sharper than he intended. They weren’t supposed to be arguing. Maddie needed her head to settle; she needed rest. Not this. He turned away, barely able to take it—that they were back in this place, arguing.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t really know anything, do I?”
Dammit. He walked over to her side of the bed where she was sitting, and he held out his arms. She bit her lip and looked up at him, then stood and walked right into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head atop hers, and hell if he didn’t feel tears stinging his eyes. “I’m just so grateful you’re alive, Maddie. That we have a second chance. That’s the truest thing I know.”
She raised her head and looked at him, then kissed him on the lips, just a peck, but a kiss nonetheless. Then she got into bed and drew the down comforter up to her neck.
He slipped in beside her knowing there was no way he’d get a wink of sleep tonight.
* * *
Maddie’s eyes fluttered open as she felt Sawyer suddenly bolt up beside her. She heard the doorbell ring—twice. Then a third time.
She sat up and glanced at her phone on her bedside table. It was 12:19 a.m.
“Someone’s at the door?” she asked.
His phone pinged, and he grabbed it, reading the screen. “Oh man.”
“What?”
“It’s my brother. He’s the one ringing the bell.” He texted something back, then got out of bed. “I’ll handle this. Try to go back to bed, Maddie. You need your sleep.”
Sawyer had a brother? No one mentioned a brother.
There was no way she was going back to bed. Sawyer’s brother was at the door after midnight, pounding on the ringer and texting? Something was definitely up.
She found a terry bathrobe on a hook in the bathroom and put it on, then tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the bottom step as Sawyer reached the door. Unless she was mistaken, he took a breath before pulling open the door.
Standing there, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, was a younger version of Sawyer, with shaggier and lighter hair. He wore a black leather bomber jacket and a thick black ski hat. He had an overnight bag slung over his shoulder.
Before he could say a word, Sawyer barked, “Cole, it’s really late. And Maddie’s not feeling well.”
“Yeah, hello to you,” Cole said.
Sawyer didn’t invite him in. “The last time you needed a place to crash and I let you stay a couple days, you robbed us blind and disappeared. If you need a place to stay, I’ll front you some money I know I’ll never see again, but you can’t stay here.”
“I’m not looking to stay here,” Cole said, his body language all fidgety and nervous. “Um, look, it’s not good for the twins to be out in the cold so long, okay?”
“What?” Sawyer asked. “What twins?”
Cole leaned down and picked something up out of view. Sawyer stepped onto the porch and Maddie heard his gasp. She rushed toward the door as Cole came inside carrying two infant car seats, a baby asleep in each one.
Sawyer stared at the babies, shutting the door behind him. “What the hell is going on? Whose babies are these?”
Cole put the car seats down on the foyer rug, then dropped the bag off his shoulder, rubbing his face with both hands. He looked absolutely miserable. And nervous.
Maddie stepped out of the shadows. “Hi.”
“Hey, Maddie.” Cole nodded at her, his expression warmer, and she had the feeling they’d gotten along at some point or that she’d been kind to him. “Whoa, what happened to you? That’s some bump on your forehead.”
“Car accident,” she said. “I’m okay, though.”
“What the hell, Cole?” Sawyer barked. “Whose babies are these?”
“I got an ex pregnant,” he answered, his voice shaky. “We got back together, but then I was fired from my job, and she told me forget it and hooked up with someone else, but he said no way is he gonna be a father. So she went into labor yesterday and called me and I rushed over. I witnessed the birth—wow, that was something.” He shook his head. “And I thought maybe my ex would say she wanted us to have a second chance, but she told me she wasn’t ready for motherhood and didn’t want the twins. She even signed away her parental rights. Unless I accepted responsibility for them, the state would have put them up for adoption.”
This time Maddie gasped. She looked down at the two infants—newborns—asleep in the carriers.
“Good Lord,” Sawyer said, shaking his head.
Cole closed his eyes for a second, his expression pained. “I stood outside the hospital nursery, staring through the glass at their bassinets and holding the forms to give up my rights so they could be placed for adoption. A nurse saw me struggling, I guess. She came over and told me that allowing them to be placed for adoption could be the best thing I could do for them if I couldn’t take care of them. She said it was up to me, that I was their father. Damn that word, Sawyer. Father. Father. Father.” His eyes brimmed with tears, and he slashed a hand underneath and sucked in a breath.
Sawyer put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, his expression full of so many emotions Maddie couldn’t begin to pick them out.
“But I couldn’t sign, Sawyer,” Cole continued. “I couldn’t just abandon them completely like that. I know what it’s like to be tossed aside.”
Maddie’s chest constricted. She had no idea what Cole’s story was—and from what she knew, he wasn’t raised with Sawyer next door to the MacLeods, or his name would have come up. But whatever his story was, it certainly didn’t sound good.
Cole dropped down on the bottom step of the staircase, covering his face with his hands, then stood up and paced. “My name is on the application for the birth certificate that Gigi started filling out—and they look like me, I can see that, even though I thought all babies just looked like babies. They’re mine. But I can’t take care of them. I can’t take care of myself.”
“Jesus, Cole,” Sawyer said, his gaze moving from his brother to the infants.
“The twins were cleared to leave, and the nurses told me what to buy before I could leave with them—two infant car seats. She also told me to buy some newborn-sized pajamas. When I returned with all that, they gave me a starter pack of diapers and formula and other stuff I’d need. I sat in my car in the hospital parking lot for a half hour with the twins in the back seat and completely panicked, no clue what to do, what to think, how I was gonna do this. Then I drove here.”
“Did you name them?” Maddie asked gently.
Cole didn’t respond; he just ran a hand through his hair. He looked so frantic. “I’m gonna get their other bag from my car. Be right back.”
He dashed out, closing the door behind him. Sawyer stared at Maddie, then looked at the two sleeping infants in the carriers again. They looked so peaceful, blissfully unaware of all that had happened since they came into the world just a day ago. All that was going on now.
Maddie heard a car start and peel away, tires screeching.
Sawyer raced to the door and flung it open, rushing out to the porch. Maddie followed, pulling her bathrobe tighter around her in the cold December night air.
She saw the car’s red taillights barely pause at the stop sign up on Main Street before turning right. Maddie recalled the sign for the freeway in that direction. “He’s not coming back tonight, is he?” she said. More a statement than a question.
Sawyer took her hand and led her inside, closing and locking the door behind them. He stared at the babies, then at her. “I’m not sure he’s ever coming back.”
Chapter Four
For a moment, Sawyer just stood staring at the two babies on the floor in their blue car seats. But then one of them opened his eyes, and Sawyer almost jumped.
The little slate-blue eyes opened a bit wider, the baby moving slightly, his bow lips quirking.
“That one’s awake!” Maddie said, stepping over. She picked up the carrier and looked at Sawyer until he picked up the other carrier. His brain was not quite catching up just yet. As a cop, as the chief of police, he never had time to be shocked. Police work, training, protocol always took over. But right now, where his brother was concerned, where his newborn nephews were concerned, shock had permeated. There were few people in this world who could get to him. Cole was one of them.
He followed Maddie into the living room. She set the carrier on the rug and began unlatching the harness, the baby staring at her, the bow lips still quirking.
“Oh my goodness, look at you,” she said, her voice holding a wonder he hadn’t heard in a long time. She moved aside the white-and-blue-striped blanket covering the baby, slid a hand behind the baby’s neck and another under his bottom, gently lifting him from the seat. “Aren’t you just beautiful,” she whispered, rocking the infant slightly in her arms.
Sawyer eyed the baby. He looked healthy, good color in his cheeks, eyes clear. He wore plush green pajamas with feet. Thank heavens for that kind nurse, telling Cole what to buy, giving him a little breathing room to leave and return.
He could imagine Cole driving from the hospital with the twins, no idea where he was going, what he was doing. And then the idea lighting in his mind: Sawyer and Maddie.
The baby in Maddie’s arms began to squirm some. You’re my nephew, Sawyer thought, trying to wrap his mind around that. I’m someone’s uncle. Two someones.
“Hey, there’s what looks like an M on his cap—in marker,” Maddie said, peering closer. “M for male?”
Sawyer looked at the other baby’s cap. “This one has an S on it. Could be their initials.” He froze, then looked at Maddie. “M and S? That’s us. Maddie and Sawyer.”
Her eyes widened. “Coincidence?”
He shrugged, barely able to take in everything, let alone begin to process and think straight.
“Could you root around the overnight bag and see if the starter kit of bottles and formula are inside?” she asked. “He doesn’t feel wet, but he’s probably hungry. Babies eat every few hours the first couple of months, I think.”
He picked up the bag Cole had left behind and sat down with it, going through it. Yup, luckily there were the hospital-issued beginner supplies. A small pack of newborn-sized diapers. Two bottles and a few different nipples. Pacifiers. Formula. Two blankets, a few extra baby hats. Enough to get through the night.
And some clipped-together paperwork. The birth certificate applications. Cole had named them. One was Shane Wolfe. The other was Max Wolfe. Something told him the nurse had initialed their caps as a just-in-case.
“Their names are Shane and Max,” he said, holding up the application. He flipped through the papers. The relinquishment of Gigi Andersen’s parental rights, signed by two witnesses, both nurses. He shook his head.
“Shane and Max. Sawyer and Maddie. That can’t be coincidence.”
“I’ll go make up a bottle,” he said, unable to wrap his mind around that. “At the PD, we’ve watched training videos on assisting with births and newborn care, so none of this is all that unfamiliar to me.”
And honestly, he was grateful for the chance to slip away into the kitchen so that he could catch his breath. Take a breath. He scanned the directions on the small canister of formula, then added the powder and water to the bottle, shook it up and put on the correct nipple. He quickly made up the other bottle just in case the little guy’s brother woke up.
C
ries coming from the living room—two different voices—indicated he had. Sawyer rushed back in, bottles in hand, and gave one to Maddie.
As he reached in to pick up the other baby, he glanced over at Maddie, leaning back against the sofa, feeding the infant, her expression so serene, so full of marvel. This is what she always wanted, he thought. All she wanted.
His chest squeezed and he focused on the other baby, gently lifting him out and settling beside Maddie with the other bottle.
Man, was this weird. You’re my nephew, he thought, watching the baby slurping the bottle quite contentedly, his blue eyes opening and closing as if he couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to be awake or asleep again. The baby was his kin, but nothing about this felt natural. Maybe because he and Cole had been estranged for the past couple of years. There had been times over the years when Sawyer had felt close to Cole no matter the distance between them, physical or emotional. But since that last time, when Sawyer had given Cole a place to crash for a few days and he’d stolen cash and a diamond bracelet that Maddie had inherited from her late grandmother, Sawyer’s heart had closed up to his brother. He’d felt done with Cole, the last straw.
And now this.
With the newborn cradled in her arms, Maddie reached into the bag and rooted around and pulled out a folded-up mat. “I think this little one needs a change.”
She lay the baby down on the mat and undid his wet diaper. She found a small container of cornstarch and gave his bottom a sprinkle, then found some rubbing alcohol and cotton pads and gently cleaned the umbilical cord area before putting on a fresh diaper. “I have no idea how I know how to do all this. Either instinct or common sense.”
Or you wanted to be a mother for so long and did so much research in preparation that it’s in your blood and bones and veins if not your memory.
Once the infant in Cole’s arms was done with his bottle, Maddie reached over for him as well and got him all changed, then they each sat on the sofa, just holding the twins, unable to even speak for a time.
“I guess we’ll hang on to the paperwork for a few days,” he said. “See if Cole returns.” He looked down at the baby in his arms, S for Shane and possibly Sawyer, then at baby Max in Maddie’s arms, M for Maddie. Their mother had signed away her rights. Their father had taken off. And here were Maddie and Sawyer, caring for them, all of a day old, for God knew how long. “I guess it’s fitting they’re named after us. If they even are.”
A Wyoming Christmas to Remember Page 4
