24. Mom
Mom
ANDY
That first morning, I woke up in my own bed and nothing about it was familiar.
Wyatt's arm was heavy across my waist, his breathing slow and even against the back of my neck.
His hand was resting just below my ribs, fingers loose, like he'd fallen asleep holding on and his grip relaxed without letting go.
I lay there trying to hold on to every detail before the morning took it from me.
I turned over. He was still asleep, his face relaxed, his lips parted, his hair scruffed up from the pillow. I reached out and touched his cheek.
His hand came up and caught mine. Eyes still closed, still mostly asleep. His fingers closed around my hand and held it against his face, like even unconscious he knew it was me.
I leaned close. "Barb and Birdie might come looking for you."
He opened his eyes. It took him a second to land where he was, whose bed, whose hand he was holding. Then he smiled and kissed my palm.
"You look so pretty in the morning."
He tipped my chin up and kissed me. Then he got up and found his clothes on the floor. I watched him dress in the dark.
"See you tonight?" He zipped up his pants and straightened his shirt.
"Yeah."
He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned down and kissed me slow.
"I had a great time."
"Me too."
I listened to him move through my house. The floorboard creaked in the hall, then the front door clicked shut. I lay there staring at the ceiling of a room that still smelled like him.
After that, the shape of our routine changed.
I still came over for dinner most nights of the week when I was off and not working late.
But instead of going home alone after Birdie and Barb went to bed, Wyatt walked me across the street every time.
I still braided Birdie's hair on the mornings I wasn't working, but instead of doing it on my porch, I did it at Wyatt's kitchen table while he made coffee.
His hand found the small of my back when he passed behind my chair.
He looked at me over Birdie's head while she was talking.
When Birdie ran to the bathroom to check her braid, he kissed me in the three seconds we had before she came back.
We told Barb first. She didn't even take her reading glasses off.
"Well. That was about as predictable as one of my novels."
Gus was happy about it. The day we went to tell him over lunch, he set two coffees down at his counter, looked at us sitting there together, and winked at Wyatt.
The crew was the loudest. Wyatt told them at the firehouse, and the first night we walked into The Lantern together, Travis made a noise that got the entire bar to turn around.
The teasing started before we reached the table and didn't stop for the rest of the night.
Greene bought a round to celebrate. Knox raised his glass. "About time."
I sat at the booth with the crew that first Friday with Wyatt's arm around my waist, and realized the world had already made room for this. Before I was ready for it. Before I knew I wanted it. The block, the bar, the firehouse. They'd seen it coming and left the door open.
Doug made sergeant. Burns announced it in the bullpen and the room erupted in backslaps, handshakes, a few whistles from the far side of the room. Doug stood in the middle of it grinning like he couldn't believe it was happening to him.
When the room cleared out, I walked up to him.
"I'm proud of you, Doug. You deserve this."
"Don't make me cry, Walsh."
"Sergeant Price. It sounds ridiculous."
"It does, doesn't it?"
He was taking over a squad on the other day shift rotation, which meant he wasn't just moving up.
He was moving out. No more cruiser rides.
No more Doug switching lanes without checking while I grabbed the handle.
No more tutu stories on the way to a bad call.
Three years of partnership, and the best partner I could have asked for was moving on.
I was happy for him. I was also going to miss him more than I knew how to say.
"Diana's doing a dinner this weekend. She wants you there."
"Tell her I'll bring wine."
"She said to tell you not to bring anything. She also said you're going to bring wine anyway and she's fine with it."
He squeezed my shoulder. "Next time we're celebrating, it's going to be your detective shield. I'm putting money on it."
"Thanks, Doug."
Burns gave me a new partner the same week. Jeremy Murray, transferring in from Northeast Area Command. Young, mid-twenties, clean uniform, an eagerness in his posture that said he was ready to prove himself.
"What made you transfer to this command?" I asked, walking him through the bullpen.
"My father worked out of this precinct. He was killed in the line of duty when I was twelve." His hand went to the notebook in his chest pocket. I recognized the gesture. I wore my father's watch every shift. Jeremy carried something of his father's too.
"I'm sorry about your father."
"Thank you. I became a cop because of him. I wanted to serve where he served."
"Then let's make him proud."
He smiled and nodded.
Christmas was close. The block had lights in every window and Birdie had taped paper snowflakes to every surface she could reach. Wyatt's living room had a tree in the corner with ornaments she'd painted herself.
Dinner was spaghetti. Barb was out with friends for the evening, so it was just the three of us at the kitchen table. Birdie was telling us about a science experiment gone wrong when she stopped mid-sentence and looked up.
"Suzie said I can come to her house for Christmas!"
"For Christmas?" Wyatt said.
"Her mom is doing a dinner and Suzie said I can come. Can I go, Daddy? Please?"
"I'll talk to Suzie's mom."
"And Andy can come too." She looked straight at me. "Right, Andy? You can come be my mommy?"
The kitchen went still.
I looked at Wyatt. His fork was frozen halfway to his mouth. His hand found mine under the table and squeezed.
"Only if you want to," he said quietly.
"I'd love to."
Birdie's face split into a grin so wide it knocked the breath out of me. She bounced in her chair and started telling me about what Suzie's mom was making, what Suzie was going to wear, and that they were going to sit next to each other.
Wyatt's eyes were on mine across the table. I said yes to Birdie. I said yes to the dinner, to showing up at another family's table under the word mom.
I said yes to all of it. And I meant it.
But I didn't know what to do with that word yet.
Wyatt and I hadn't talked about it. I was his girlfriend.
That part I understood. But Birdie calling me her mom—that was different.
I didn't grow up with a mother. I lost mine before I was old enough to understand what she was supposed to teach me, so I didn't have a blueprint for this.
And even if I did, this was a role that was supposed to be for someone else.
How do you step into that role for someone's daughter without erasing the woman who should have been there?
I didn't have an answer yet.
We went to the Parks' the weekend before Christmas.
All three of us, in matching sweaters. It was Birdie's idea.
She'd seen it online and decided it was non-negotiable.
Wyatt didn't argue. I didn't either. My dad and I never had traditions like that.
He bought me books. I made him coffee. And we watched old westerns on the couch.
Matching anything wasn't in our vocabulary.
But pulling that sweater over my head felt like stepping into something I didn't know I'd been missing.
Birdie insisted on wearing her hair like mine. I did hers in the bathroom mirror. When we got to Suzie's front door, Suzie took one look at Birdie's hair and pulled her mom's sleeve. I ended up in the Parks' bathroom with two six-year-olds on step stools, braiding Suzie's hair to match.
"Now we're twins!" Birdie said.
Mrs. Park leaned against the doorway. "You just made her entire Christmas."
Suzie's parents were wonderful. Her dad shook Wyatt's hand at the door and her mom hugged me like she'd known me for years.
Suzie's older brother followed Wyatt around the kitchen asking about the truck and the ladder and whether he'd ever been inside a building that was actually on fire.
Birdie and Suzie disappeared with the dog and didn't come up for air until dinner.
It was a good night. One of those nights that didn't feel like it was going to matter until we were driving home and I realized it already did.
Birdie fell asleep in the truck on the way back. Wyatt carried her inside while I locked up behind us.
I stood in the doorway of Birdie's room and watched him lay her down. He pulled the blanket up to her chin, kissed her forehead, and stayed there for a moment before he eased the door shut behind him.
"I had a good time tonight," I said. "I'm glad Birdie has Suzie."
"I like them. The Parks are really nice. And listen, I'm sorry about the mom thing. She ambushed you and I didn't know she was going to—"
"Don't apologize for that."
He looked at me. The hallway was quiet. Birdie's sound machine hummed through her closed door.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned in, pressing his mouth to mine.
His hands cradled my face. He kissed me like he'd been waiting all evening for exactly this. My fingers curled into the front of his sweater and pulled him closer.
He lifted me. My legs wrapped around his waist as he carried me down the hall to his bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind us and laid me on his bed.
He took his time undressing me. The sweater first, then everything underneath it, his mouth tracing every inch of skin he uncovered. I arched into him when his lips brushed my stomach. He looked up at me and the expression on his face made my breath catch.
He moved lower. His mouth grazed the inside of my thigh and my whole body tightened. His hands pressed my hips into the mattress and then his tongue was on me and I stopped thinking.