Page 101 of The Only Heart that Matters
Shaking his head, he shivers in his saddle. “Normally, I would ask for details, but this is Mia, and I don’t wanna know a damn thing.” He signals to Mabel, and they take off.
And just like that, our conversation is over. I give River a squeeze to his rib cage, and we take off at a breakneck pace after them. Between the rush of the wind against my skin as we race back to the barn and the relief that I seem to have the support of my family to move forward with Mia, I feel lighter than I did when we met at the barn this morning.
My feelings for Mia aren’t a secret anymore, and I like it that way.
Now we just need to take care of her to-do list and see about getting our real life started.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Mia
The hint of Italian herbs attempts to override my senses when I walk through the front door, but try as they might, they don’t stand a chance at distracting me. Not when I feel as queasy as I do. My nerves have been going haywire all day, because my life changes tonight. I wish I could say it will be for the better, but I’m not that delusional.
As soon as I have his coat and shoes off him, Swayer takes off at the speed of light to find his Gus Gus. Pieces of my heart crumble to the ground and the words haven’t even left my mouth yet.
“Hey, buddy. How does spaghetti sound?”
“Hmm... yummy,” Sawyer replies as Angus picks him up.
“What about you, Mom?” he asks, turning his attention to me. “Spaghetti work? I know I’m repeating my recipes already, but my skills in the kitchen only run so deep.”
Does spaghetti work?
Who cares about dinner when my world is about to come crashing down around me?
The domestic scene in front of me has my head spinning and my insides churning, but I play along. “Sounds perfect.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, bile crawls up my throat. “Can you watch him for a minute? I’ll be right back.”
Not waiting for his answer, I sprint down the hall barley reaching my bathroom in time. With the reality of my situation staring me in the face, the sour stomach I’ve been keeping at bay all day wins the battle. If only retching what little was in my belly into the toilet made me feel any better.
Once I have control of my body again, I brush my teeth, change out of my scrubs and do my best to clean myself up. Pasting on a brave face, I leave the safety of the bedroom.
It’s a herculean feat to control my emotions when I find them at the table, waiting for me. Sawyer is in his high chair, one fist holding a toddler fork, the other holding his spoon, with a bib tied around his neck. Angus, his twin, has a napkin shoved into the collar of his T-shirt and silverware in his fists.
I will not cry tonight. I have done nothing but cry for months now. I’m all cried out. I’ve cried sad tears, angry tears, happy tears. Tonight, I need to be strong. For Sawyer.
I force a giggle, shaking my head at their adorableness. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”
“We’re gentlemen. We wouldn’t start without the lady of the house.”
Faking a smile, I pray I’m hiding the anguish slowly suffocating me. “Well, I’m here now. Eat up.”
“To be honest, manners aside, he got so messy last time I wasn’t sure how to approach Sawyer and red sauce. I’ll have to defer to you, Mom.”
Grateful for the distraction, I cut up noodles and throw together a bowl of spaghetti, busily helping Sawyer and avoidingeye contact with Angus, praying he hasn’t noticed I’m not eating. My stomach may be empty, but it won’t tolerate more than the two bites I’ve taken.
Dinner is peaceful, but messy. Once Sawyer is full, I sneak away for bath time, leaving Angus to do the dishes. It’s early, but once he’s in his jammies, I tuck Sawyer in bed and read him three different books until he finally closes his eyes.
Lingering in the moment, I stare at my little boy and hope he understands how much I love him. That I’ve only ever tried to do what was best for him. I have no idea what our futures hold after I leave his bedroom, but I know I’ll fight for my little boy, no matter the cost.
Running my fingers through his hair, I whisper, “I love you, baby boy. I hope one day when you're old enough to understand, you'll know I did what I thought was right for you. I’m so sorry for whatever we lose after tonight, but you’ll always have me.”
I sure hope that’s enough.
Planting a kiss on his forehead, I watch him for a couple more heartbeats before walking out of his room, closing the door to the quiet, beautiful life we’ve been living.
Angus is leaning against the kitchen counter, a dish towel over his shoulder, scrolling on his phone. He’s distracted and doesn’t notice me, but I notice everything about him. His tan, McKinnon skin, the intricate details of the guitar on his forearm that symbolizes his father’s love of music as well as the other art that cover his arms. There’s no ignoring the muscles straining the cotton covering his tattooed and scarred torso. But it’s his face I can’t tear my eyes away from. Long lashes line caramel-colored eyes that always seem to see more than I want to show him. His pillowy bottom lip is begging for me bite it again. He’s like a priceless painting. More beautiful the longer I admire him.
Sensing me in the room, he looks up and a smile lights his eyes. The final brush of brilliance to his magnificent face.
