Page 45 of The Cannon
“I look at you and see my babies,” I say out of nowhere.
Her reaction makes me doubt. The gentle shake of her head, her downcast eyes.
“Did I go too far?”
I put down the mason jar. Mine and then hers. Fuck. A tear courses over her cheek and down her face. I reach up and wipe it away.
“Talk to me, Bristol.”
Lifting her head, our eyes lock. She takes a few moments to compose herself, then squeezes my hand.
“I can’t have children. For me it’s physically impossible.”
The way she speaks, the tone, makes it sound as if she feels a sort of shame. I lift her chin and come close to her face.
“Alright. That’s something we can deal with. You know that.”
“But I’ll never be able to carry your child or give you a biological child. My eggs aren’t viable. And it sounds like you want to be a father.”
“I do. It’s something I’ve always known. But it’s not important to me how that happens. You’re a doctor. You know all the options. Remember Bristol, I was a child without a real family. It would be an honor to be a father to someone who is in the same situation.”
She looks up at me and takes it all in. My words, expression, how sincere she thinks I am.
“We haven’t known each other long, but I’m telling you what I say I mean. Making a home for a child and being happy in that home is my dream,” I say. “It’s nothowit happens butthatit happens.”
“You’re too good to be true,” she says cracking the tiniest of smiles.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
I hold firm with my statement. It wouldn’t matter to me if Bristol gives birth or we go to a building and choose a child. The important thing would be we would be becoming mother and father, prepared to love and be loved by our children.
“Well, it’s really a moot point. We practically just met,” she says.
But there’s no conviction behind her words. I think she wants to hear my reaction.
“What’s this heart-beating, soul-craving feeling then? Why do I lose my breath when you’re near? And why is it you feel the same?”
I stand and take her hand.
“Come on, Scarlett. Quit fighting the inevitable and give Rhett a dance.”
Chapter 12
Bristol
These last few weeks have passed as quickly as a Tennessee breeze floating by. July has moved to August. Sawyer and I. The sentence has passed my lips a hundred times since the night under the stars.
It was a new experience for me all around.
Dancing on the flatbed of an old truck while listening to country music was sexy and deeply, sweetly, romantic. I never appreciated the genre before and didn’t know what I was missing. My new playlist is heavy with Blake Shelton and Luke Bryan. Every day Sawyer sends me a new song to listen to. They’re always ones he loves.
Hearing Sawyer talk about the constellations and their positions in the night sky was beautiful. He said one of his foster fathers had a telescope and would let each child take a turn. The fact he was the only one interested meant he had the bulk of the dad’s attention.
It’s obvious he absorbed the best his foster families had to offer and pushed the rest to the back of his mind. It kills me to think the boy Sawyer was ever ignored or marginalized.
Who knew I’d fall for a romantic man? Even more surprising is how much I like it. Obviously I misunderstood the concept. It always looked and felt cheesy to me. Disingenuous. I know now it was because I had never known love. But Sawyer is the real thing. I’d be surprised to know he ever says or acts anyway other than how he’s authentically feeling.
When I think about the effect it’s had on my family, it’s almost comical. They’re so happy for me it makes me think they must have thought I was a lost cause in that department.
