Page 236 of Wild Then Wed
Sawyer, somehow entirely too comfortable with all of this, leans in slightly. “It didn’t stay on long anyway.”
My jaw drops. “Sawyer!” I smack his chest and try not to melt into the couch.
The girls immediately lose it—Lark and Miller squealing and howling and collapsing into each other. Sage lets out a shocked little laugh and covers her mouth. Miller and Lark high-five right over my head.
Ridge gags. “Jesus Christ! That’s my sister, dude.”
Boone’s already shaking his head. “Can wenottalk about Wren’s bikini? Or whatever didn’t stay on?”
Sawyer just smirks beside me, smug and content. And I sit there—blushing, mortified, and somehow…totally okay with it. Maybe even a little happy to be here in the middle of all of it. My life, as ridiculous and loud and unexpected as it’s turned out to be.
Mom’s voice cuts through the noise, clear and calm but unmistakably final. “I already knew this was coming,” she says with a smile, her eyes landing on me, then on Sawyer. “But I’m happy for you two. Really. We already love you, Sawyer.”
She turns to him, gesturing loosely to the group as Miller starts arguing with Lark about who’s responsible for making the salad. “And not to mention, you’ve handled this wild crew pretty well.”
Sawyer chuckles. “I appreciate it, Mrs. Wilding.”
She narrows her eyes. “It’sMolly.You’re married to my daughter, for God’s sake!”
That pulls a full laugh out of him. “Sorry.Molly.”
She nods like she’s granting him permission to live another day. “That’s better.” Then she claps her hands once. “Now, time for lunch. Everyone—go set the table.”
It’s like she pressed a button. The entire room scatters in different directions, chairs dragging, someone yelling about which drawer the napkins are in. Sawyer stands and reaches for my hand, tugging me up from the couch just as the room starts to empty.
Before I can even brush the hair out of my face, his hands find my waist. He pulls me close and kisses me, right in the middle of the living room like the world isn’t happening around us.
I blink up at him when he pulls back. “What was that for?”
He gestures vaguely toward the ceiling. “There’s a mistletoe.”
I glance up and see nothing but wood beams and a crooked snowflake one of the twins must’ve taped there.
“There’snomistletoe,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
He nods toward the front door. “Pretty sure I saw some back there.”
I laugh. “I think the rule is you have to be standingunderit.”
He leans in, lips brushing mine. “Yeah, well…maybe I just like kissing you.”
He kisses me again—deeper this time. Warmer.
And then, quieter, he says, “Thank you.”
I look up at him. “For what?”
“For this. For once, Christmas doesn’t feel like this huge, looming thing I have to get through. It’s starting to feel like something I might actually…like again.”
I smile at him, soft and a little overwhelmed. “That’s all thanks to my crazy family.”
But he just shakes his head, brushing his thumb against my cheek. “No. It’s thanks to you. For letting me in, for letting me be here.”
He kisses me again, softer this time. In the background, someone drops silverware and someone else yells about rolls, but none of it touches this moment. His hand’s still at my waist, his forehead brushing mine, and I’m standing here in a room full of noise feeling steady for the first time in a long time.
And for once, I’m not bracing for what comes next. I’m just here. Letting myself stay. Letting myself be his.
I used to think love was something you either had or didn’t. That it came easy for some people and skipped over the rest of us.
