Page 37 of Married to the Mountain Man
"Four children?" The number makes my head spin.
"Four McKennas running around, driving their mother crazy and keeping their father busy building chicken coops and tree houses and whatever else they need." He grins at the image. "Tommy teaching his little brothers and sisters how to fish, how to climb trees, how to be brave and kind and strong."
The picture he's painting is so vivid, so appealing, that I can almost see it. A house full of children with Sawyer's blue eyes and stubborn chins, a yard full of laughter and adventure and the kind of chaos that comes from a family that's too big and too loud and absolutely perfect.
"Nap time," Tommy announces, apparently bored with our conversation about theoretical siblings. "Truck book now."
"Truck book now," Sawyer agrees, shooting me a look that promises we'll continue this conversation later. "Come on, buddy. Let's get you settled."
As I watch my husband carry our son toward the house, talking quietly about trucks and naps and the sandwich we'll make for lunch, I press my hand to my still-flat stomach and wonder if there really is a baby growing inside me.
A baby created from love and trust and the kind of happiness I never thought I deserved.
A baby who will grow up in this house, on this mountain, surrounded by family and safety and more love than any child could possibly need.
A Christmas baby, if Tommy's prediction is right.
Twenty minutes later, I'm staring at two pink lines on a pregnancy test, tears streaming down my face while Sawyer holds me against his chest.
"Happy tears?" he asks, though his voice suggests he already knows the answer.
"The happiest tears." I look up at him, this man who saved me and Tommy, who built us a life I never thought we could have. "We're having a baby, Sawyer."
"We're having a baby," he agrees, and the wonder in his voice matches my own.
"Tommy's going to be a big brother."
"The best big brother. He's going to teach this baby everything he knows about trucks and building and being part of the McKenna family."
"The McKenna family." I say the words like a prayer. "Our family."
"Our family," he confirms, leaning down to kiss me. "Growing and perfect and ours."
As he holds me in our bathroom, with our son napping down the hall and our unborn baby safe inside me, I think about how far we've come from that desperate morning two years ago when I asked him to marry me.
I think about Derek Morrison, who's hopefully living a miserable life somewhere far away from here. About Emma, who I like to think is watching over us from wherever she is, proud of the life we've built for her son.
About love winning over money and manipulation and fear.
About dreams coming true in ways you never expect.
About the family I found when I thought I'd lost everything.
And about the man holding me now, who loved me for twenty years before he ever got the chance to tell me, who fought for us when I didn't know how to fight for myself.
Who's about to be the father of two children and couldn't look happier about it if he tried.
"I love you, Sawyer McKenna," I whisper against his chest.
"I love you too, Lisa McKenna. You and Tommy and this baby we're going to have." His arms tighten around me. "I love this whole beautiful, chaotic, perfect life we've built."
"Even when there are four kids running around driving us crazy?"
"Especially then."
And as I stand in my husband's arms, in the house that's become our home, listening to our son sleep peacefully down the hall while our unborn baby grows safely inside me, I know with absolute certainty that this is exactly where I belong.
This is exactly the life Emma would have wanted for Tommy.
This is exactly the love story I never thought I'd get to live.
This is our happily ever after.
And it's only just beginning.
