Page 89 of Her Christmas Wish
He hadn’t said so—that he loved her still. But she knew him well enough to understand that he’d never have come to her porch that night if he wasn’t in love with her.
That move, more than any other, ever, spoke to her heart.
And it was that thought that she took to bed with her.
And fell asleep on.
Waking to find Leigh, in her so-sweet pink unicorn pajamas, crawling into bed with her the next morning. “I waked up before you,” the little girl pronounced as she pushed herself under the covers and snuggled up, with her head on Sage’s chest.
Filling her up in a way Gray had never known.
The thought of him, waking alone, broke her heart as she said, “Yes, and you did the right thing, coming in to get me.” And gave her daughter a grateful hug, kissing the top of Leigh’s head.
Just as her mother had kissed hers. Countless mornings.
She’d spent her childhood with love all around her, holding her up. Not just her mother, but with a twin. She hadn’t even been alone in the womb.
Gray...he’d been loved, but alone...forever.
“What do you want for breakfast?” she asked Leigh, knowing that her day had to go on. Because life did.
That was how it worked.
And when Leigh sat up, scrunching up her forehead, her finger on her chin, she smiled, a real smile, and waited for the answer.
“Pancakes, I think, and then, maybe, chocolate.”
“Uh?” Sage sat up. “Do we have chocolate for breakfast?”
“No, but we don’t ever sleep in our clothes, either, and you’re wearing your yesterday’s shirt!”
Sage couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out of her. “Got me,” she said. “But we still aren’t having chocolate for breakfast.”
Just as she wasn’t going to let her own heartbreak shower down on the precious little girl she’d been blessed with.
Or the little one inside her.
She’d made choices, commitments, and had others relying on her—for the rest of her life.
Gray had made no such commitments. And even if he could somehow find a way to be okay as a part-time dad to his own child, he’d need to be that for two, which was asking the impossible of him. Yet, no way would either of them allow Leigh to feel that she wasn’t as important to Mr. Buzzing Bee as her little brother or sister would be. Gray would walk away long before he’d do that to her.
He’d already walked away.
She knew. Understood.
But she also knew, as she took Leigh through their morning routine, that she wasn’t going to be free from the aches, the longing, the needs, the tears. Probably ever.
She’d provide a happy home for her children. Would undoubtedly know many happy times and even some perfect moments.
But she wasn’t going to do what she’d done in the past—she wouldn’t cut Gray out of her heart’s awareness and reinvent herself. Focusing only on herself and the life she wanted. She would carry him with her. Stay present in her longing for him. Be willing to hurt. To be able to welcome him into their lives in whatever capacity he could be there. Even if that meant a Christmas card every ten years.
Because she loved him that deeply.
And because he deserved to be so loved.
The problem with cotton was that it wrinkled. Gray had the inane thought as he traipsed from his almost new home down closer to the water early Sunday morning. He’d awoken, sometime during the night, and had found himself sitting propped up against the house again.
Remembered the beer he’d consumed too quickly. Purposely allowed grogginess to remain as a buffer between him and his brain, had lain down proper in the sand, uncaring that even in his long-sleeved shirt, it was cold, and went back to sleep. He’d needed unconsciousness, rest, more than comfort.
