Page 87 of The Cannon
“You might think I’m not the traditional type. That I don’t entertain the typical girly dreams. But you’d be wrong.”
“See. You’re always surprising me. I love that about you.”
“So, when the time comes, I want the proposal done properly. Bended knee, ring, your stomach flipping because I might just say no.”
He starts to chuckle but quickly sees I’m serious. Leaning his forehead against mine, fingers thread through my hair.
“I’ve got it from here. Don’t worry, baby. I’ll do it right.”
I roll on top of his warm body, and we wiggle the sheet out from between us.
“There. I don’t want anything cock blocking me,” I giggle. “We have just enough time to make love before I need to take my shower. We still have to make the sweet potato dish. It’s Thanksgiving, you know.”
“Have I told you yet today that I love you?”
“No. And it’s nine in the morning already. You getting tired of me, man?”
A naughty grin and a stiff cock pressing into me is his clear answer.
* * *
Drivingonto Mom and Dad’s property is a joy that doesn’t get old. The long tree-lined driveway leading to the house looks beautiful in the crisp November sunlight. Some leaves of gold and red cling to the branches, others fall to the ground.
While Sawyer and Jude listen to their favorite Sirius comedy station, I think about the last few months.
Sawyer’s diagnosis and subsequent surgery changed a lot. His future with the Mavericks over for good. The ability to pitch a cannon is a thing of the past.
But for us both, knowing he’s cancer free is the only thing that matters. Everything else is just details.
It’s odd that destiny brought us together through baseball. I imagined years spent watching home games, traveling whenever my schedule permitted.
I never liked the sport, but now that I love a player, I’ve come to love the game. I would have jumped in with both feet. His passion would have become mine. Now it’s a moot point.
Atticus and Brick have shown their affection for Sawyer in many ways. In fact, the entire Swift brood has wrapped their hearts around him. He feels part of the family now, even before anything official happens. Although it appears to be getting closer every day.
And Jude. He’s becoming part of the family too. Since the surgery he’s spent all his time with us. Everyone’s happy for that. The three of us, and even Julie. Now that his foster father’s on hospice, it’s one less child the mother needs to watch over.
Seeing death approaching when you’re not intimately connected feels like an intrusion. It sucks to be the outsider. I think that’s how Jude felt being in the house.
I believe he has begun psychologically separating from his fosters. He feels safe with Sawyer and me. And although we parent him, he never acts like he’s our son. He takes on the role of friend. It works. Moving slowly forward is the way to go. Especially till we find out about our ability to adopt.
It’s a fine line we walk, loving like mother and father, but not being able to give clear voice to our roles. I can’t stop thinking about the possibility. There’s an excitement building regardless of reminding myself not to assume it will happen. Is this my child?
I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t notice Grandpa Davis standing at the open front door. A persimmon bow tie for the occasion, and the wiggling Colonel in his arms. Now the barking starts. Every time he hears Sawyer driving up he goes bananas.
“The Colonel!”
Jude opens the back door and races to the house.
As Sawyer comes around to open my door, I watch Grandpa setting the dog down. How funny that it runs directly to him.
“Hey, boy!” Sawyer greets his biggest fan.
“Well, come in now everyone. The cooks are preparing a feast!”
* * *
All twelve ofus sit around the dining table. The platters, half-eaten casseroles and wiped-clean potato bowls dot the table. As usual there’s lots of turkey left over. Despite the fact we all had seconds.
