Page 52 of Make Me Yours
A part of me still couldn’t believe it was real. That a guy like me could find peace in something as simple as helping set up chairs, watching the woman he loved smile at a wedding, and knowing that in a few days, he’d get his first glimpse of their future.
I let my fingers drift down to intertwine with hers, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. She lifted her gaze, her eyes shimmering with a mix of understanding and tenderness that spoke volumes without uttering a single syllable. In that moment, I realized something profound—I wasn’t trapped in theshadows of my past anymore; I was stepping boldly into the future.
A future that shimmered with possibility, filled with her, with us, and with the tiny heartbeat that would soon echo in our lives.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Heartbeat of Hope
Lilly
A Few Weeks Later
Mornings had started to look different lately.
Coffee was brewing in Sawyer’s kitchen instead of mine. Sunny curled up on the rug near the kitchen island, her tail twitching as Sawyer moved around in his easy rhythm, whistling low and off-key. Half my clothes were now hanging inside a massive closet of my own off the master suite.
Sometimes I caught myself smiling at how ordinary it all felt—how right. Not so long ago, we’d spent our nights secretly tangled in sheets and stolen moments, whispering promises we weren’t brave enough to say aloud in the daylight.
Back then, mornings meant hurried goodbyes and pretending nothing had happened when we passed each other in town. We thought we were hiding it from everyone, but the truth was that we were hiding from ourselves.
Now, I woke up to the smell of his coffee and the steady comfort of his presence. We’d gone from stolen hours to something that felt like a home—quiet, steady, real.
Sawyer glanced over from the counter as he poured his coffee, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ll tell you one thing,” he said. “These mornings beat the hell out of sneaking out your back door before sunrise.”
I laughed softly, the memory both sweet and bittersweet. “You mean you didn’t enjoy those stealth missions?”
He winked. “Oh, I enjoyed every minute. But this—having you here when the sun comes up—yeah, this is better.”
And yet, as I stood there buttering toast, I couldn’t quite bring myself to eat; nerves fluttered in my stomach that had nothing to do with morning sickness.
Today was our first ultrasound.
Sawyer came in from the hallway, tucking in his shirt and smoothing the sleeves. I nearly laughed when I noticed the new boots on his feet—polished brown leather, the kind he’d normally avoid wearing for anything short of a wedding.
“You bought new boots for this?” I asked, tilting my head.
He gave me that slow grin. “Figured it’s a big day. Can’t have the kid’s first photo op without looking presentable.”
I tried to smile, but my hand instinctively drifted to my belly. “I just… I hope everything’s okay.”
Sawyer reached for my hand, curling his fingers around mine. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe it’s just habit. I like to plan, to make sure everything’s perfect—and this is something I can’t control.”
He kissed my cheek. “You’re doing everything right, Lilly. You worry enough for both of us, so I’ll handle the calm part.”
I looked up at him and smiled despite myself. “Deal.”
The doctor’s office was small but cozy, with a mural of snowcapped mountains on one wall and soft instrumental music playing overhead. The tech, a woman named Paula, had an easy laugh that helped settle my nerves, though my palms still felt clammy against the thin paper sheet beneath me.
Sawyer sat close, his broad shoulders somehow making the tiny exam chair look too small for him. He’d been quiet since we walked in, but his thumb had never stopped tracing little circles on my hand. The man could face down chaos without blinking, yet here he was, holding his breath like the outcome of this ultrasound mattered more than any mission he’d ever led.
I lay back as Paula squeezed the gel onto my stomach, the coolness startling me. Then came the low hum of the machine, the flicker of gray and white on the screen—and there it was.
A flutter. Tiny, perfect, alive.
“That’s your baby,” Paula said softly.
