Page 49 of Loving London

“Oh my gosh! Look at him in this Santa hat, Loïc,” Sarah says to me before saying to Evan in a baby voice, “You got the chubby cheeks. Yes, you do. You’re the chubbiest and the cutest.”

“He’s pretty damn cute,” I agree.

Evan will be four months old tomorrow, and he really is a beautiful baby. His wrist and ankle rolls along with his double chin that loves to collect drool just add to his cuteness. He smiles all the time and has just started laughing, which might be my favorite sound in the world.

“It’s your first Christmas, and you are the cutest Santa baby Mommy ever did see,” Sarah coos.

She bounces Evan on her knee, and he belly-laughs in his Santa romper.

Life in the Berkeley home is pretty great. Sarah hasn’t gone back to work yet. I told her to stay home and be with Evan for as long as she wants. The house is paid off, and our bills are minimal. There’s no reason for her to miss out on time with Evan. He’s growing so fast, and I want her to be able to experience all of it.

She’s an amazing mom, just like I knew she would be. I know she wants to give Evan everything that she didn’t have, and she’s already doing a great job. Maggie and her family have adopted Sarah and Evan as their own as well. He is one loved little boy. There’s just something about a baby that mends broken hearts.

Each week, I continue to go to multiple types of therapy—individual and support groups. I’ve even started to lead some of the group sessions. I feel pretty good now, but I know it’s because of the medication I’m on and all the therapy. I’m always going to be someone with PTSD. It will get more manageable over time, but it’ll always be there. I’m fortunate that I got help before it dragged me too far down. Eventually, I hope to be well enough to help other veterans get the help they need.

“What a great Christmas. I love our little family!” Sarah exclaims as she snaps some photos of Evan.

“Do you want to see if he can open one of his presents?” I ask her.

“Sure.” She sets Evan on her lap and puts a box in front of him. “Here you go, buddy. Like this.” She demonstrates how to rip off the paper.

Evan gurgles and coos and drops a glob of drool on top of the box, but he doesn’t do much more. I never thought I’d see the day when I thought someone’s spit was adorable.

“Look, bud. See? Like this.” I slowly rip the paper off of his wrapped toy. “Rip the paper. Rip the paper,” I chant in a silly voice.

Evan giggles and flails his arms. He hits the present, but I think it was just because it was in his way.

“He’ll get it next year,” I say to Sarah with a chuckle.

“Yeah. More for us to unwrap, I guess.” She grins. “Here, let’s take a family selfie.”

I position myself close to her. She holds her cell phone out and takes a photo of the three of us. Evan even smiles for it, but he’s always smiling.

“Aw, that’s a total framer,” she says, admiring the photo.

After opening presents, we eat the delicious cinnamon rolls that Sarah made, and then she heads to Evan’s room to put him down for his first nap of the day.

I make quick calls to Maggie, Cooper’s family, and Dixon.

I reached out to him back in July when I decided to get some help. He’s become a real friend, calling and checking in with me a couple of times a week.

“He was tired,” Sarah says, entering the room. “Being so precious is exhausting.”

She plops down next to me on the sofa. “I love you,” she says, leaning her head against my shoulder with a happy sigh.

“I love you, too.”

“Marry me, Loïc.”

My body freezes. “Sarah,” I say on an exhale.

“I know, I know.” She sits up to look at me. “We’re family. You love me like a sister. Blah, blah, blah. I know.” She lets out a frustrated groan. “But it could be so much more, if you’d just try.”

“Sarah…”

“No, listen to me. We live together. We’re raising the most amazing little boy together. We’ve each seen the other at their worst and loved them anyway. No one loves me like you do, Loïc, and no one will ever love or understand you the way I do. You see me as a sister because that’s what you allow yourself to see. Just try seeing me another way. Try opening your heart up for more. Just try.” Her big blue eyes stare into mine, pleading.

Closing my eyes, I bring my hand to my forehead and rub my temple, thinking. If things were different and there had never been a London, then…maybe. Perhaps I could have learned to love Sarah differently.

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