Page 84 of The Only Heart that Matters

“Something smells good.” I try to change the subject and step away, but Sawyer still has a hold on each of us, keeping us connected.

Angus’s breath tickles my face when he replies. “I’m making you dinner. My way of saying thanks for letting me invade your space.”

My heads spins with the need to kiss his beautiful lips hovering only inches away. Instead, I take a step backward.

He clears his throat. “Come on, little man. Let’s let Mommy take a load off.” They move to the great room, where he sets Sawyer down on the couch. When he pulls his hat off his headhis fine toddler hair, full of static, sticks straight up. “Bud, look at your hair. You’re stylin’, dude.” Angus carries on, helping him with his coat and shoes. Sawyer is wide awake and ready to play now.

“Gus, play vroom truck!” He jumps from the couch, running to his room, leaving us alone.

“Sorry about the silly waterworks,” I say, shrugging off my coat, hanging it on the hook by the front door.

“Not silly at all,” he says, crossing the room to hang up Sawyer’s coat and drop his shoes next to the ones I just took off.

And just like that, we obliterate the distance between us.

“You didn’t need to make dinner.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” He reaches for me and just as his thumb caresses my cheek, the patter of socked feet running down the hall has him dropping his hand, but his gaze remains fixed to mine for several heartbeats before he turns toward my boy.

“Vroom, vroom.” Sawyer soars a plastic dump truck in the air with one hand, his other carries a tow truck he holds out for Angus.

“You get them warmed up for me and I promise to play after dinner.”

“No! Gus play now!” he whines, stomping his feet.

“Sawyer Brian Powell,” I say, using my mom voice.

My tired boy drops himself to the ground, landing on his diaper-clad bottom. His lower lip quivers and I know the waterworks are on deck. He’s exhausted and melting down. I’m about to step in, but Angus beats me to it.

“Bud, I made you a special spaghetti dinner and it’s time to eat. I promise we’ll play after dinner.”

Sawyer's lower lip still quivers as one giant crocodile tear hangs onto his lower lashes for dear life.

“I will never break a promise to you, buddy. Never.”

Angus means what he says with everything that he is. He is one of the most loyal, dependable people I have ever known. The only lie he’s ever told me was that we would only have one night together, because he gave me a second.

Sawyer nods his head in understanding.

Easing Sawyer’s toys out of his hands and then picking him up, the tattooed man who just promised my son he would never go back on his word, walks to the already set table and secures Sawyer in his high chair.

“Come on, Momma, time for dinner. Go get out of your scrubs.”

In a daze, I follow his instructions, and change out of my work clothes and into equally comfortable yoga pants and an oversized off the shoulder sweater. When I meet them at the table, Sawyer is chewing on a piece of garlic bread while Angus pours two glasses of red wine.

Why is he doing this? Why the effort? Has he changed his mind about the possibility of there being an us?

“There she is.”

“Momma!” Sawyer holds out a fist full of slobbery bread.

“Hey, sweetie. Looks yummy.”

“Yummy, Momma.”

My eyes drift over to Angus. He’s watching me and when I catch him, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he says barely above a whisper, “Hey.”

One word. That’s all it takes and I am a mess. If I hadn’t just landed in my seat, I would be a puddle on the floor.

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