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When Knoah offered the guitar and sheet music, I was floored. The music and guitar had meant the world to Dylan. Between the two of us, he’d been the sentimental one. Knoah giving them to my son was…there were no words.
I heard the door open and the sound of women laughing. Sawyer gushed over all the stuff for the baby, which made me smile. She needed this.
Mom said, “We?
??ll be back with the next load. You just wait here and we’ll bring it.”
Man, Mom was excited about this baby. I still needed to talk to her about Dad, but that could wait. Later. Today was a day of happiness for my girl.
Wait…load? How much shit did Sawyer get?
I heard Knoah and Sawyer talking. “If you need my help getting everything ready, let me know.”
“Oh, I’d love that. Maybe tomorrow if that sounds good. I think a nap is in my immediate future.”
Sawyer had to be exhausted after this day. She’d been gone for nearly four hours.
“I bet you’re tired. I can’t wait to see all of the goodies you got today set up in the nursery.”
“Me, either. I need to figure out the furniture. Maybe tomorrow we can do that, too.” There was a pause. “Thank you for today. This was just what I needed.”
“I’m glad.”
Twice more the women came and went, bringing stuff. How much stuff does a baby need? Holy shit. The door closed one last time, and I waited for the confirmation from Knoah.
Knoah: She’s alone.
Listening again, I heard the water dispenser running on the fridge. The anticipation building inside me was worse than any night on stage. I hoped Sawyer liked my surprise. Making her smile did something to me—rocked me to my core.
I pressed Play on the CD player, and the sound of my voice singing gentle songs filled the air. Over the last two weeks, I made a special lullaby disc for Dylan.
“Kurt?”
“In the spare bedroom,” I called out.
Sawyer stopped in the doorway, her eyes huge. Her mouth opened and closed several times. “What is this?”
Her hands motioned around the room, pointing at the different pieces of furniture between gasps. “Kurt, what is all this?”
Beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the sight of the woman I loved carrying our child. Our child. There was a soft rosy glow to her cheeks. Because of Sawyer, I had hope.
“Well, it’s the baby’s stuff. A little birdie told me you loved this set.”
“Kurt, this is a twenty-thousand-dollar crib. It’s why I only secretly loved it and you had to hear it from a birdie.”
Yep, she loved it. And I would have spent a million dollars on a crib if it made her happy. “I’m aware. I just signed the bill.”
Sawyer threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly.
“Do you like it?” I needed to know for sure.
“Like it? No…I love this. But it was—”
I put my finger to her lips. “It doesn’t matter. If you love it, that’s all that matters.”
The furniture seemed nice. It was something called a vintage whitewash on black wood. Whatever the hell that meant.
“Hush Little Baby” came over the speakers. We stared into each other’s eyes, and I loved what I saw. With that look of adoration, I could conquer the world.
