Chapter 4
SAGE
“She’s the most precious thing, ever,” I said in awe, brushing my fingers over the new baby’s dark curls. She was bundled up like a burrito in a blue blanket in my arms, fast asleep and I couldn’t tear my eyes off her.
I was seated on a small couch in one of the recovery rooms. Mrs. Wilder was beside me, her shoulder brushing mine, smiling and staring down at her new granddaughter. Mr. Wilder was in the tall back chair and Buck leaned against the wall. Watching, not the baby I held, but me.
Me.
Trig sat on the edge of Ellie’s bed. Her dark hair, which had been long down her back at the diner this morning, was up in a sloppy bun. She was in a hospital gown and eating one of the danishes I brought.
The other Wilders had gone to the other recovery room to visit the other new baby.
The plan was to switch after a little while, but all I could do was stare at baby Sage.
“I can’t believe you named her after me,” I said, watching as her little bow lips pursed in her sleep. I was in love. She was absolutely perfect and I ached with want. Tears filled my eyes and I sniffed hard to will them back.
She wasn’t mine, I knew, but I wanted one of my own fiercely, and right now.
“The ultrasound said she was a he,” Ellie said from bed, shaking her head in amazement.
“I swear there was a penis in the images,” Trig grumbled.
“We all did, even the doctor,” Ellie reminded. “We’ve been calling him Junior for five months.”
“I used blue yarn when I knitted the blanket,” Mrs. Wilder said with a little laugh.
“Surprised the hell out of me when she came out,” Trig added. “What the hell am I gonna do with a girl?”
I glanced up for a second, saw him running his fingers through his hair, a little afraid.
“We didn’t have a girl name picked out at all and I love yours, Sage. You fed my weird cravings this week and were right there when we went into labor,” Ellie exclaimed.
“That’s so kind.” I blinked back tears and handed her to Mrs. Wilder. I was impressed with her restraint at not ripping her from my arms. “Here you go. I think she’s eager to meet Grandma.”
“Gigi. I’m going to be Gigi,” she told me, our eyes holding for a second with little Sage between us.
I stood, went over to Ellie on the opposite side of the bed from her husband. Met her striking eyes, weary but so happy. “This is so special. Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”
She beamed and Trig took her hand. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, looking across the room toward his daughter, protective.
“Knock knock,” a man said from the partially open doorway. He wore a sheriff’s uniform, shirt untucked, his dark hair a mess. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a while. But he had the biggest smile and the tiniest bundle in his arms. This had to be Colt Wilder and his new baby.
“Oh, you’ve brought her,” Mrs. Wilder said in a breathy, thrilled way. “How’s Molly?”
He walked over to his mother, leaned down and set her other granddaughter in her other arm, like she was holding two footballs.
Trig had his phone out and took a photo.
“She’s good. So good. She knows the Wilder brood will switch rooms soon but thought you might want a second with them together. Clarabel, meet your cousin, Sage,” Colt said to his sleeping daughter. “You two are gonna run us ragged, I can already tell.”
Trig slapped him on the shoulder, then they gave each other a man hug.
Clarabel Wilder. Sage Wilder.
God, that made me wonder what it would be like to be part of this family, for me to be called Sage Wilder. They were an amazing family. Loving. Friendly.
But not mine.
I flicked my gaze around the room one last time, my eyes catching Buck’s briefly, then quietly slipped out. They may have given their daughter my name, but that was all this was. A nice name used in a pinch.
I took a deep breath, let it out.
There couldn’t have been any greater push for me to get on with what I wanted than having a baby named after me.
I’d left New York to get away from the wreckage of my life. To come here and give myself room to figure out what I wanted, without a man stringing me along or a job I couldn’t return to or overbearing parents who had expectations I was currently not meeting.
My want hadn’t changed. I was just going to put me first, for the first time ever.
It was time. Now, the only thing stopping me from my baby dream was me.
I pulled out my phone, swiped until I got to the number of the sperm bank I’d called three times this week, but hung up before anyone answered. This time, I let it ring.
“Cyrobank of the Rockies, how can I help you?” the woman’s voice asked when she answered.
A thrill of panic and excitement shot through me. This could work. It would work. “Hi, yes, I’d like to make an appointment to purchase donor sperm.”
I spoke with the receptionist for a minute or two sharing my information and picking a time when the diner wasn’t usually busy but I could close for a few hours so I could go in for an appointment, then hung up.
I couldn’t help but smile at the idea that this might actually happen. That it might be me on this floor in a year or so. For the first time in a while, I was excited about the future.
Tucking my cell back into my purse, I spun around to head for the elevators.
And bumped into a hard body.
A tall one.
Wide.
Solid.
One that smelled like winter landscapes and leather.
His hands wrapped around my biceps, warm and gentle.
“Oh, I’m so–”
My words dried up when I tipped my chin back and saw who it was.
It was Buck. Gorgeous Buck. My heart pitterpattered.
Beneath his Stetson, his dark eyes raked over me, as if he were looking for something.
“You want a baby?” he asked, his voice deeper than the few times I’d heard it.
I blinked, then swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“You’re gonna get one from a sperm bank?”