14. Ava #2
Giggling, I shift her so I can get out of bed and change her. Only the moment I swing my legs over the side of the mattress and the cool air hits them, I realize that I’m still not wearing pants.
And any preconceived—and wrong—notions Brayden may have are seemingly confirmed.
“I’ll, uh, take care of it.” War hops out of bed and scoops Scarlett up.
Once she’s settled in the crook of his arm, he meets my eye, his lips folded in.
Clearly, he’s holding in a laugh at my expense.
“Come on, Bray. Once we get this one’s diaper changed, we can get breakfast started, and then it’s present time. ”
I slip back under the covers, hiding my bare legs before Josie notices.
Beside me, she shouts, “Presents!” But rather than barrel out of here, she turns her attention back to me, snuggling into War’s pillow.
She looks so cozy in the plaid nightgown that matches his pants.
Now that I’m seeing them again, I realize that Scarlett’s jammies were the same plaid. Brayden’s too.
My heart trips over itself. Did Tyler Warren buy matching Christmas pajamas for all of them? And if so, why is that so freaking adorably hot?
I bat away thoughts surrounding War’s attractiveness. But the pajamas only solidify my decision to marry him. Not for me, but because these kids deserve the kind of love and devotion he is clearly lavishing them with.
“This really is my best present,” Josie says in that soft, whispery voice she always used when we’d snuggle in her hospital room and watch movies.
She’d share little thoughts with me. Not true secrets, but thoughts that were important to her.
Every time she trusts me to keep one, my heart grows another size.
I run a hand through her hair and cup her face. “What is, love?”
“You are. Christmas morning wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
Warmth creeps up my neck and into my cheeks.
With fair skin like mine, there’s no way to hide the blush.
I so badly want to tell her that I’ll always be here.
But before I do, I need to check in with War.
If he’s changed his mind, I can’t really blame him, since I accepted a proposal he hadn’t made and all but forced myself on the man.
A man who dislikes me greatly.
A man I dislike as well. Obviously.
At least, I did . I’m not sure I can continue to hate a man who isn’t at all what I thought.
I’m beginning to realize that I made a lot of assumptions and based my opinion on what I think may have been misconceptions.
How could they not be? A narcissistic playboy doesn’t choose to move away from his friends and purchase a large family home so he can adopt three lonely kids.
“Waking up to your beautiful face has definitely made this the best Christmas,” I admit.
“We should have had a sleepover in my room. Boys smell, and my room is prettier than this one.”
I laugh at the matter-of-fact way she lays it all out.
“You think Tyler smells?” I tease.
She shrugs. “No. He actually smells really good.” She snuggles deeper into his pillow. “For a boy.”
Joy bubbles up inside me. God, it feels good to be here with her.
I never could have imagined Christmas going this way.
Just the thought of how I could have woken up by myself this morning, how instead of giggling with Josie, I’d be lying in the dark, lost in the past, has me rolling closer to her and sniffing War’s pillow.
Pulling back, I let my mouth drop open and widen my eyes in an exaggerated way.
“His pillow does smell.” I give her head a sniff next, tickling her while I inhale her sweetness.
It’s a tease, though in reality, I’m soaking her in.
“You’re right. I should have slept in your room. You smell so much better.”
We stay like that a little longer, laughing and cuddling, until I send her downstairs, promising I’ll follow once I get dressed.
Once she’s gone and I’m left in the quiet room lit only by the morning sun peeking through the blinds, I realize I’ll either have to stay in War’s clothes or put my dress back on.
The memory of his whispered words about how he liked seeing his number on my back has my body heating even as I get out of bed, pantsless, and my bare feet hit the cold wooden planks.
If I’m really moving in with him, then I’ll definitely request he add a plush area rug.
Or will I have my own bedroom?
If he had an extra room, wouldn’t he have offered it to me last night? It’s not like he wanted me to sleep in his bed.
Or did he?
God, I could go round and round in my head all day if I’m not careful.
Overthinking and overanalyzing every interaction we’ve had over the last twenty-four hours won’t do me any good.
So I head to the bathroom and slip on the far too large sweats he pulled out for me last night.
I have to roll them four times to keep them from slipping down my hips.
Then I squeeze a small glob of toothpaste onto my finger and run it over my teeth and give my hair a quick finger combing, working to make the mess look a little tamer.
When I’m finished, I look a little less like Anna from Frozen when she wakes up and more like myself—albeit a happier version.
Because even though I don’t have my own clothes or a toothbrush, I woke up to three smiling kids, and honestly, I can’t think of anything better.