Page 102 of Make it a Double

She squeezed my hand and smiled. “I’ve never really talked about this to anyone except for Liv. We bonded over mom trauma. Apparently, it’s common.”

“I’ll tell my daddy issues that there’s a new star in town,” I said.

Sawyer groaned, covering her face with her hands before peeking through her fingers. “Ugh. Is it awful to admit that, as much as I hate the thought of you suffering, I’m kind of glad you understand familial trauma? Like, does that make me a bad person?”

I didn’t think it was awful at all. People judged what they didn’t understand. Some of the guys I used to call friends would tell me they wouldn’t care what their parents did if it meant they never had to work another day in their lives. I always laughed it off with them, but it made me sick to my stomach.

But Sawyer never once balked as I skirted around the issues with my father. She knew, better than most, how complex parental relationships could be, and never tried to play devil’s advocate.

“Could you imagine if your one-night-stand turned baby daddy had,” I did an exaggerated gasp, “a healthy childhood?”

She let her hands fall away, lips twitching slightly. “Thank god for that.”

I stood, helping her up. Everything was marked so the guys knew exactly what was going where. “Can you check under the bed for me?” Sawyer asked. “I’d do it myself, but,” she pointed to her belly, “I’d never get back up again.”

I did as she asked, getting on my knees to do a quick sweep when my gaze snagged on a small spiral notebook near the back. “Got something,” I said, pulling it free. Sawyer’s cheeks pinked as I held it up between us. “Want this?”

She snatched the thing out of my hands so fast and clutched it to her chest. “Oh, thank god. I thought I’d lost it.”

Curiosity got the best of me when she opened it up and sighed. “What is it?” I asked, pushing to my feet and peering over her shoulder.

There was a date scribbled at the top, and Sawyer’s neat scrawl filled the lines below. She’d doodled baby rattles in the margins around a grainy black and white image that didn’t look like much, but it held our entire future.

“I wanted to do a scrapbook thing, but didn’t know how. It felt silly to spend all this money on something I wasn’t sure I’d keep up with, so I grabbed an old notebook I’d never used and started jotting things down.” She turned the page. There wasn’t a picture this time, but there was a doodle of a ferris wheel in the corner. “It helped me process everything as it happened. There were only so many times I could listen to Liv’s unusual positivity.” Another page, a new doodle of a stuffed giraffe.

“Would you ever let me read it?” I asked. “I’d love to see more from the beginning.”

Sawyer turned over her shoulder, studying me closely. “I don’t know if you’ll want to. Those first months were rough. Some days I hated you. Some I wanted you back.”

“Oh, I’m under no delusion that those pages are filled with praise, but I don’t care. There’s nothing that could change how I feel about you,” I answered honestly. “I just want to know what I missed.”

Sawyer was still coming to terms with her guilt over not telling me. It would be a long time coming until that went away, but I hoped my eagerness to learn even her worst thoughts would show her I didn’t scare easily.

“Okay, you can read it.” She held it out, snatching it back before handing it over. “As long as you promise not to hate me afterward.”

“Baby, what’d I just say? You’re stuck with me. There’s nothing you could do to scare me.” I took the notebook from her grip and kissed her. “Unless you called me a pussy about the ferris wheel. My pride can only take so many blows.”

She pulled away, gently smacking my shoulder. “We’ve got to get you better with heights.”

“Everyone has a weakness!” I protested, leading her into the living room. “That’s mine.”

“Mine’s this damn hip,” Gram said, smacking her right side. Beckett nearly bowled her over. “Seizes up when it’s cold, makin’ it hard for Harold to give me that good mornin’ sugar.”

I stared down at the eccentric woman who couldn’t have been more than five foot three. She was standing in front of me, leaning on her cane with a beaming smile.“You know, I’m always excited to see what shirt you’ve got on, Maeve. This one might be my favorite.”

She grabbed the bottom of her shirt and held it out proudly. “Harold said I shouldn’t wear it out in public, but I think it’s pretty clever myself!”

The words “Good Boy” were printed across her chest in large, bold letters, but the O in boy was in the shape of a dog collar.

“Grams, oh my god,” Sawyer said, covering her face. I saw the smile beneath her hands. “I, for one, agree with Harold. That needs to stay within the confines of this trailer.”

Her grandma stuck her tongue out. “Don’t you go turnin’ into one of those boring moms on me. I didn’t raise you to be a stick in the mud⁠—”

“I’m not, but⁠—”

“—and we definitely don’t kinkshame!” Grams finished. “Now, I know you’re getting out of here, but I wanna give you one thing before you do.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a gold necklace.

“Grams…”