Page 60 of Make Me Yours
“Hey, I earned ’em.” He glanced at me, eyes bright. “She looks just like you.”
“She’s got your dimple,” I countered.
He smiled. “Guess that means trouble.”
A buzz from my phone interrupted us—messages from Tessa, Callie, Emma, and half the town already flooding in. I opened the camera and hit record. “Say hello to everyone, Hope.”
The baby yawned and scrunched her little nose.
“She’s already photogenic,” Sawyer said proudly.
I started a video call to my parents. Mama’s face appeared first, her eyes filling instantly with tears. “Oh, sweetheart, look at her!”
Daddy leaned into view, voice thick. “That’s my granddaughter? Lord have mercy, she’s beautiful.”
Sawyer turned the camera so they could see him, his arm around my shoulders. “She’s got quite the set of lungs, too.”
Mama laughed through her tears. “Just like her mother.”
We talked until Hope started fussing again, and Sawyer promised to fly them up to Lovelace as soon as they were ready, reminding them that the new guest suite at the ranch was finished. When the call ended, the room fell quiet again.
Sawyer tucked the phone away, then looked down at our daughter with that soft, reverent expression I’d come to know. “Hard to believe we finished her nursery just in time,” he said.
I smiled, picturing the little room back at the ranch—sunny yellow walls, white trim, and the hand-built rocking chair Sawyer refused to admit had taken him three weekends to perfect. “You meanyoufinished it just in time. I mostly supervised.”
He chuckled. “Supervised? You picked every color in that house. Took what used to be my bachelor cave and turned it into something Martha Stewart’d cry over.”
“That’s called a home,” I teased.
And it was true. Over the past few months, I’d slowly carved away the rough edges of Sawyer’s life—the bare walls, the mismatched furniture, the echoing quiet—and filled it with warmth. Curtains that actually matched. Plants he pretended not to like but watered anyway. A kitchen stocked with more than frozen dinners and black coffee.
The biggest change had been the nursery—Hope’s corner of the world. Sawyer hung every shelf, assembled every tiny piece of furniture, and didn’t even complainmuchwhen I asked him to repaint the closet because the shade of white “felt too cold.”
“Cold?” he’d muttered back then, splattered with paint. “It’s white, Lilly. They don’t make warm white.”
But he’d done it anyway.
Even the stables hadn’t escaped my nesting spree. Sawyer bought me a green Gator one afternoon—said it was so I could visit Grace without trekking through the mud. “Figure my girls deserve the easy route,” he’d told me, patting both me and the hood. I’d spent many late afternoons bouncing down that dirt path, bundled in Sawyer’s old jacket, visiting his first love while our baby kicked against my ribs. Grace would nuzzle my belly like she somehow knew what was coming.
Now, sitting here in this quiet hospital room, it all felt like a thread leading to this moment—the nursery, the laughter, the smell of sawdust and coffee that had filled our days. All the little ways we’d built a life brick by brick, paint stroke by paint stroke.
I traced the ring on my finger—the one that had once belonged to his mother—and thought about how life had a way of circling back, offering new chances when you least expected them. Beside it, the slender wedding band Sawyer had placed there during our vows caught the light, its tiny diamonds glinting softly. He’d even added larger stones to my engagement ring to match the band he’d bought in Show Low. Now, the two rings fit together perfectly—like they’d always been meant to, just like us.
Sawyer leaned over, resting his chin on my shoulder as we watched our daughter sleep. “You know,” he said, “once Hope Haven’s ready, maybe we should host a renewal ceremony right on that deck. Just the three of us this time.”
I smiled, feeling his warmth against my cheek. “Maybe one day. But for now, I think this is perfect.”
He pressed another kiss to my temple. “Yeah,” he murmured. “This is home.”
I looked at our tiny family, at the world beyond the window pane, and felt it deep in my bones—the sense that we’d come full circle. From the woman who’d sworn she’d never trust again tothe man who’d thought he didn’t deserve love, we’d somehow built something solid and beautiful.
Outside, the lake lay still beneath its winter veil, moonlight catching on the thin crust of ice like silver threads. Somewhere out there, the cabin waited—our next chapter taking shape one board, one dream at a time.
I brushed my thumb over Hope’s small fist and felt her grip tighten, fierce for someone so new. “You’ve got your daddy’s strength,” I whispered, smiling through the lump in my throat.
Sawyer’s hand found mine beneath the blanket, rough and steady, grounding me like always.
The world was quiet then—just the soft hum of the heater, the steady rhythm of our daughter’s breathing, and the promise of everything still ahead.
