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I loved the dynamic he'd had with his brothers and sister.
I loved the one I had growing up with my siblings.
We wanted a big family.
"We are open to adopting again," Nixon answered for me while my mind swirled.
"Would you be interested in setting up a meeting?"
"Absolutely. I mean, we need to talk to Quen about it all first," I said, looking over at our boy. He still had the warmest smile I'd ever seen. He also happened to have the biggest heart. If he knew he had a baby sister, he would want her to live with us. He wouldn't even hesitate.
"Of course. Yes, absolutely. You two can get back to me once you've given the situation some thought."
"We will," I assured her. "We absolutely will. Soon."
"Great. That's fantastic. I really hoped you would be interested. Well, I will let you get back to your outing. I am looking forward to hearing back from you."
"Hey, Andrea?" Nixon asked before she could hang up.
"Yeah?"
"What's her name?" he asked, always able to think more clearly in an exciting situation than I could. And, duh, how could we talk to Quen about his baby sister if we didn't even know her name?
"Sammy."
I was pretty sure the whole world tilted in that moment.
Sammy.
Really, what were the odds?
Nixon ended the call because my mind was still too all over the place to think straight.
"Well," he said, taking a deep breath. "That sounds a fuckuva lot like fate to me," he said, arm snagging me around my lower back, pulling me in at his side.
"Sammy," I repeated.
"Sammy," he agreed, pressing a kiss to my temple.
And just like that, we had a daughter.Reagan - 11 yearsI woke up with one little foot pressed into my cheek, a little head on my lap, and a little hand jabbed into my throat.
My head rested on Nixon's shoulder.
We'd all climbed into bed to watch a movie late the night before, all falling asleep before the credits rolled.
The sun was breaking through the windows.
Mal was purring on the other side of Nixon.
I could smell the coffee machine brewing.
My gaze moved around my three children, faces soft and sweet in sleep, then toward my husband, the man who made this whole life possible.
Beautiful.
Perfect.
Complete.
It was right then that I found out that my therapist all those years ago was right.
Healing happened slowly, then all at once.
Until, one morning, you woke up and your loss wasn't your first thought anymore. Or your second. Or third. Or fourth.
It was still there.
It would always be there.
But you healed.
You moved forward.
You found new places to pour all that love you had leftover.
"Want me to get you a cup?" Nixon asked, voice gruff from sleep, somehow untangling himself from the kids without waking any of them up.
"Those are the most romantic words you've ever said to me," I told him, feeling my lips curve up.
"I'm not making any fancy crap," he forewarned me, as he always did.
There was the surly man I fell in love with all those years ago.
Nixon came back a few moments later, helping me move little bodies toward the end of the bed, so we could enjoy our coffee without being punched or kicked in delicate places.
He pulled me close to his side, smelling better than my coffee, so I took a breath, breathed him in, before taking a sip.
"What's on your schedule today?" he asked.
"Jackson and Quen have karate. And then I have to grocery shop. Meet Krissy for lunch. Oh, and I have to run to Costco to get more peaches," I told him.
"Sh," he said, making my gaze turn to find him smirking over at me. "Don't dirty-talk me in front of the children," he demanded, making me throw my head back and laugh.
Life had changed a lot of things.
But some things never changed.
My appetite for peaches.
And Nixon's appetite for me.XX
