Page 10 of A Crawford Family Christmas

He pulls me into his arms. “None of that, Angel. Our kids are out there somewhere. I know it. It’s just a matter of timing. I know how hard these last few years have been on you. Watching all my siblings welcome baby after baby.”

I sniff and let my tears soak into his shirt. It has been hard. So hard. All I ever wanted in life was to be a wife and a mother. I have an amazing husband, but the other illudes me.

“Maybe I’m just not meant to be a mother,” I say. “Maybe that’s why we haven’t been able to get pregnant.”

“I refuse to believe that. You have a mother’s heart,” he says. “All that love you have that you carry around with you, it belongs to some kids out there. I feel that in my soul.”

I nod. I open my mouth to tease him when my phone buzzes in my back pocket.

Unknown number.

I frown.

“Who is it?”

“I’m not sure.” I swipe to answer. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end is warm but professional. “Hi, is this Amber Crawford?”

“Yes, this is she,” I say.

“This is Lydia with the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services. I’m in Tarrant County, and we received your file. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

My stomach does a flip. “No, no. This is—this is fine.”

Quinn’s already watching me, eyebrows drawn, concern flickering in his eyes.

Lydia continues, “I wanted to let you and your husband know that we have a placement match for you. If you’re interested.”

My breath catches. “Yes! Of course, we’re interested.”

She chuckles. “Your homestudy indicated that you were interested in sibling groups, primarily two of them. So this might not be a perfect fit, but I wanted to offer because I just have a feeling about this situation.”

“Okay, sure,” I say, uncertain of what else to say.

“It is a sibling group—two girls, ages four and two. But…” there’s a pause, “…there’s a baby boy as well. One month old. He wasn’t originally part of the file because the birth mother tried to hide him. In any case, the department would like to keep them together if possible.”

I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God.”

“Take your time,” Lydia says softly. “If you’d like, we can set up the first visit after Christmas.”

Tears blur my vision. “No, we—yes. Of course. We want them. All of them.”

Quinn’s beside me now, worry etched deep. “Amber?”

I hang up and turn toward him, throat tight, heart pounding. “We got them.”

He blinks. “Got who?”

“The kids,” I whisper. “They approved us. Two girls—four and two—and…” My voice cracks. “A baby boy. A month old.”

For a heartbeat, everything stops—the crackle of the fire, the laughter, the hum of carols from the nearby stage. Then Quinn exhales, rough and shaky, and pulls me into his arms so hard I lose my breath all over again.

“Three?” he murmurs against my hair.

“Three.”

His shoulders shake once. Then he laughs—this stunned, joyous sound that breaks something open in me. “Guess we’ll be outnumbered.”