Jenna squeezed her tightly. They parted but stayed close, and Jenna laid her hand against Sawyer’s cheek. “You’re gonna be an amazing aunt. Your nephew is very lucky to have you.”
“And I’m lucky to haveyou,” Sawyer said quietly. “I have you, don’t I?”
“Hundred percent. Yes.” She held Sawyer’s gaze. “I love you.”
Sawyer’s swallow was audible, and it took her a moment to collect herself. “I love you back,” she said, her voice a whisper. She leaned down and kissed Jenna softly, and when they parted, Jenna glanced across the room to see the family of three watching them in surprise.
She shrugged. “Sorry. Living my own romance novel over here.” When she looked back at Sawyer, her smile was radiant. “I really am.”
“Me too.” Sawyer pulled her into a hug. “It’s my new favorite genre, you know.”
Epilogue
Six months later
The screaming.
Holy shit, the screaming.
Sawyer stared at her six-month-old nephew and, not for the first time, wondered how the hell something so small could make a noise so incredibly big. Doing a favor for her sister and taking the baby overnight for the first time was one thing, but sacrificing her own eardrums—not to mention her sanity—was quite another.
She stood there, hands over her ears, and just watched as Ethan Sawyer Jacobsen did his very best to shatter all the glass in his aunt’s home with nothing but his voice. And his lungs.
As she debated calling Courtney and telling her to get her ass back here and pick up her devil child, Jenna hurried into the room with a bottle in one hand and a cloth slung over her shoulder. She was completely calm—how? How the fuck was she not rocking in a corner like Sawyer wanted to be? But she wasn’t. She was softly smiling, and the second she reached down to pick up Ethan, the smile grew. She scooped his little body up, cradled him in the crook of her arm, and gave him the bottle.
The screaming stopped.
Bliss.
“Oh my God,” Sawyer said on a whisper, afraid speaking louder would disturb this newfound silence, and let her hands fall from her ears.
Jenna looked at her with a radiant smile. “You okay?”
Sawyer looked at her in baffled awe. “How does he make that much noise? How is it possible for something so small to be that loud?”
Jenna laughed softly. “I know, right?” She turned back to Ethan. “Poor little guy was starving,” she said in baby talk.
Ethan’s big blue eyes were fixed on Jenna as he drank, watching her with fascination, not that Sawyer could blame him. She was breathtaking in this role, something that had surprised Sawyer, though she wasn’t sure why. Jenna was a natural when it came to maternal instincts, and it was beautiful and unexpectedly sexy to watch.
Arnold nudged Jenna’s leg, Sawyer noticed, so Jenna squatted down and let the dog smell the baby. He was gentle, sniffing him all over, then giving him a little nuzzle near his chin, probably trying to taste the bottle’s contents, which were dripping a bit into Ethan’s neck folds.
“Good boy,” Jenna whispered and gave Arnold a kiss on his head.
By unspoken agreement, they moved to the porch, where they’d installed a porch swing. It was early June, not too hot yet, not too buggy in the evenings, and the porch swing had rapidly become their favorite spot. They sat, and Sawyer put one foot up on the railing so she could gently push them. Ethan drank greedily, and Jenna stopped to burp him twice before the bottle was empty.
“Dude.” Sawyer held it up. “You’re a little piggy.”
“You tell Aunt Sawyer you’re a growing boy. You gotta drink all your milk, huh?” Jenna bounced him gently on her knee, then handed him over. “Here. I’ll take the bottle in, he’s gonna be asleep in minutes, and I need a glass of wine. How about you?”
“God, yes,” Sawyer said with a sheepish grin.
Jenna laughed and dropped a kiss on the top of her head before heading inside.
Sawyer held her nephew and pushed the swing with her foot, and the two of them watched the neighborhood go by. It wasn’t quite dusk yet, so people were busy. Across the street, two kids were having a game of Horse in the driveway, shooting hoops. She could see Mr. Creeley two doors down watering the potted flowers he’d put out the day before. A young couple walked by with two Boston terriers on leashes, followed not far behind by a woman pushing a stroller.
“Do you know how much my life has changed in the past year?” she asked Ethan softly. “No, of course you don’t. How could you?You’ve only been here for six months.” She shifted his pudgy body so he was sitting up in her lap and could see the activity too. “Well, let me tell you, I was kind of a different person when I moved in over there.” She pointed to her own front door. “Your Aunt Jenna didn’t like me much, not that I blame her. I was kind of a di—er—a jerk to her. But not because I didn’t like her. It was because I was struggling with my own stuff, you know? Like, I didn’t know who I was. At all. And your Aunt Jenna? She helped me figure that out.” She played with his chubby hand, stroking his tiny fingers between her thumb and forefinger, everything about him just so small and soft. He grasped her finger in his fist tightly. “Oh, that’s a good grip, buddy. You could play baseball with that grip. Or golf. Or tennis. You could be a star and make millions of dollars and support your aunts in their old age. Right? What do you think? I like it.”
Ethan made a gooing sound, and Sawyer grinned.
