Ever since we left Tree Hill, there are certain things that I miss. I miss Haley's smile, Brooke's childishness, Jamie's words of wisdom, and even Nathan's teasing. But life now, despite everything, is simple. It consists of Peyton, Sawyer, and I. Peyton works part time managing a record company, and is still a large part of her record company in Tree Hill, with the help of Haley of course. As we are LA based, Peyton has outreach to so many more artists. She is giving so many artists voices, she is amazing the world with her talents of shining the lights on the right people. I am so incredibly proud of my wife.
Although I miss Tree Hill, moving was a breath of fresh air, coming here and starting fresh renewed the artist in me too. I've written three books in the past two years—one is a children's book, about a little girl named Sawyer, who saw a comet one night.
Sawyer, Sawyer, Sawyer. That girl, she is my comet—my world consists of her and her mother. When she took her first steps, I was brushing my teeth and Peyton screamed throughout the house, and I ran downstairs to see our baby girl bouncing across the kitchen floor. Her blonde hair a bouncing, twisted, beautiful mess. Sawyer's first word was, un surprisingly enough, mama. Daddy—much to my dismay—was her third word, just behind "love" or as Sawyer says it, "lobe".
Now, Sawyer is almost three—going to preschool in less than a year. She is incredibly talkative and happy. She sees the world like Jamie does, behind a lens of positivity and light. Sawyer lit up my entire world. Every moment she has given us was my favorite moment. She is stubborn, but lovable. She loves to laugh, and her giggle is contagious. Her favorite color is blue, but yellow is a close runner up. She loves sports, tea parties, and music. Sawyer loves to sing, on the top of her lungs. Her favorite food is watermelon, and she has always falls asleep during movies.
As I snap out of my daydream, I hear the chorus of "Don't Stop Believing" coming from the kitchen. I wander through the hall to see Peyton and Sawyer dancing around with spoons in their hands, belting out the words. Sawyer twirls her curl with her finger and sings, "just a small town girl!". Peyton erupts in laughter and I run in, throwing Sawyer onto my shoulder.
"Living in a lonely world!" I shout at her.
Between giggles, Sawyer says, "don't quit your day job daddy."
I laugh at her and Peyton turns down the music. "We were just having a little fun before bedtime," she tells me as I readjust Sawyer on my hip. Peyton then draws in close and kisses me.
"It's okay though daddy, no bed and I can keep singing," Sawyer assures me.
"No, no, no. Go to bed, go to bed I said. I will race you upstairs," I whisper to Sawyer as I set her down and we both run after her as she bounds up the stairs.
Later that night, after Sawyer is fast asleep, Peyton leans to me and says, "I want another one."
I look at her with so much love and hope, I kiss her forehead. "I nearly lost you," is all I can say.
"But you didn't, I asked my OBGYN, and the chances of that happening again are slim. That wasn't anything that was wrong with me or wrong with Sawyer, it was just something that happened Lucas, what are the chances it would happen twice? Look, I have been thinking about this for a long time, and I don't care what the chances are Lucas. I want Sawyer to grow up with a sibling, with siblings actually," Peyton says, her eyes doing that pleading thing that they do—kills me every time.
"What about adoption?" I ask her. "We could always adopt."
"See I already knew you would got there. I checked into it, and state law requires that we live here for at least five years before we apply for adoption in California, and since we have only been here for a little over two it could be a long wait," Peyton insists. "Look, Lucas if you don't want anymore kids with me, just say so and I will end the conversation."
I sigh and think about how long Peyton has been thinking about this. "Of course I want more kids with you Peyton," he says as he traces her jawline. "I am just scared."
"I promise you, whatever we decide, I will be fine," Peyton says encouragingly.
I play with the fabric of the comforter. I think of Sawyer's eyes, which are identical to her mothers. I think of her nose that is just like mine. I think of her smile and her crooked front tooth and I smile. "Your doctor said the chances are low, how low?" I question.
"Less than five percent," she says nervously.
"I would like a zero percent, I mean how bad would it be to just wait for an adoption?" I try encouraging her.
"Lucas, Sawyer will be five by that time, and that's just when we can apply. There are so many things that could go wrong with a pregnancy, yes, but go look at Sawyer and tell me you want to wait what could be six, seven, eight years," Peyton babbles. "I don't want to wait anymore Luke, I know we have talked about it here and there, but I am serious."
I turn to the ceiling, the look in Peyton's face breaking my heart. I think about Jamie and Lydia. I think of all the things they get to experience together. I think of having another little girl. Having a little boy. I also think about having to wait years, and years for a child. "Okay," I say, and even as I say them, I wonder if I actually said them aloud.
Peyton breaks down in tears and jumps on top of me, smothering me in kisses. "I love you, Lucas Scott," she whispers into my ear.
"I love you, Peyton Scott," I moan.
In less than three months, Peyton is indeed pregnant—in early May she runs through the house with a pee stick, screaming it while Sawyer is on a play date. She jumps into my arms, and I spin her around, planting a kiss on her cheek. I am scared shitless, but I also can't hide how full my heart is.