Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
SAWYER
We end up heading back to New York early. I make up a fake emergency at Mars and Madison says she’s got a last-minute date with some guy she’s seeing. Preston comes with us, of course, since we’re all taking the same chartered flight home.
Preston sleeps the rest of the weekend, waking up to eat and go to the bathroom before I shuffle him off to bed again.
By the time Monday rolls around, he’s feeling a lot better, even if his face is still a mess.
I convince him to spend an extra day at home before returning to school, which he agreed to only because he can access all his research from his tablet.
Which leaves me with the dreaded task of breaking up with Fitz. Fuck.
We’ve had a few text message exchanges over Thanksgiving weekend, so I haven’t exactly ghosted him. But I haven’t been as enthusiastic as I usually am. I don’t know if he’s been able to tell over text, and I’m not sure whether it would be better or worse if he has.
We agreed to meet at a bar around the corner from Mars about an hour before my shift starts. Maybe that’s cowardly of me, but can you really blame me for wanting an excuse to leave if things turn ugly or awkward.
I’m early and waiting at a high top at the back of the bar, nearly crawling out of my skin I’m so nervous.
I’ve never had to break up with someone before.
I don’t usually get that serious with the people I date, and the few times it has, we’ve always ended up drifting apart.
I don’t want to hurt Fitz, but I have a feeling it’s inevitable.
I feel terrible about how things have gone down.
He deserves to be treated better than how I’ve treated him.
It’s not that I’ve led him on, per se, but I haven’t been honest with him, or myself, or well, any of us.
Because even if Preston and I go back to being just friends—I’m still expecting him to call things off any day now—he would always take priority over anyone I date.
I can’t in good faith pursue anything with Fitz.
Preston’s it for me. It’ll always be Preston or bust.
“Hey, Sawyer.”
I jump, head snapping up. I was so caught up in my own thoughts I didn’t notice Fitz entering the bar.
“Hey!” I exclaim with way too much fake enthusiasm.
Fitz blinks once in surprise then leans in for a kiss—shit. I dodge it at the last second, turning my head so his lips land on my cheek and I lean in the rest of the way to give him a brief hug.
When he pulls back, confusion is written plainly across his face.
“Um, do you want a drink?” I raise my hand and flag down a waiter.
“Sure,” Fitz says, sounding not at all sure. After the waiter leaves with our order, he continues. “Uh, how was Thanksgiving? You went to Preston’s house, right?”
“Yes! It was good!” I cringe. “Well, not really. Preston got hit in the face with a football.”
“Oh shit. Is he okay?” Fitz sounds genuinely concerned, and that only makes me feel worse.
“He is. Or he will be. Anyway, how was your Thanksgiving?” My voice is a little too high, sounding almost hysterical.
Fitz gives me a funny look—he’s definitely noticed. “It was good. We don’t do anything fancy. Just hanging out with the family, you know?”
“Mmhmm, yup, yep, hanging out. Awesome.”
The waiter comes back with our drinks, and I take my beer, downing almost half the glass in one go.
“Um, are you okay, Sawyer? Is something wrong?”
“Hmm? Oh, no, nothing’s wrong.” I cringe again. “Uh, well, that’s not true. Uh… fuck.”
I cover my face with my hand. Why didn’t I think about what to say before I got here? I should’ve written it down. Hell, I should’ve rehearsed it.
Fitz shifts back in his chair, straightening his posture and folding his arms across his chest. He’s a smart guy. He’s probably guessed what’s going on. But he doesn’t make it easy for me. He sits and waits, letting me make a fool of myself as I fumble for words.
“So, um, I wanted to talk to you because, um, well, Preston and I…” are a couple now? No, that’s not entirely correct. We’re sleeping together? Yes, but that sounds crude. It’s more than just sex. I love him and even though he’s not sure where he stands, I know Preston cares for me.
I don’t need to finish my sentence because Fitz squeezes his eyes shut, his lips flatten into a straight line and his jaw starts ticcing.
“You and Preston.” He huffs, a short, annoyed, angry sound. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I’m pretty sure that is a rhetorical question so I don’t try to answer.
Fitz pins me with a glare that’s so intense and fierce that it shines through his black-rimmed glasses and hits me square in the face. I’ve seen that look before—or at least, it reminds me of one. Thirteen years ago. When I was moving into Westbourne, and Preston walked into the room.
I sit back in my chair, jaw hanging open in shock. How did I not notice it until now? Black hair, blue eyes. Short, slim frame. Smart, nerdy. Even the glasses are similar to the ones Preston wore before his parents made him get laser eye surgery.
Holy fucking shit. I blink a few times, hoping that the similarities will disappear, that they’re a figment of my imagination, maybe a trick of the light. But, nope. The more I stare at Fitz, the more I see the resemblance. He looks so much like Preston, it’s hard to believe.
“What?” Fitz spits out when he notices me studying him.
I shake my head, dumbfounded. “Nothing, I just…” realized I liked you because you reminded me of Preston is probably not the right thing to say at the moment. I clear my throat. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Fitz huffs again. “You’re un-fucking-believable. I asked you if anything was going on between you and Preston.”
“I know,” I say quietly, bracing myself for the daggers I fully deserve.
“You swore up and down that there was nothing there. That you and Preston were only friends. That I wasn’t walking into the middle of some fucked-up, twisted, co-dependent bullshit.”
I grimace as the daggers hit their target, but I don’t try to stop him. “I know.”
“Hell, I even asked Preston!”
“You did?” I didn’t know he’d done that.
“Yeah, I did. Told him that he only needed to say the word and I’d back off.
Much fucking good that did.” Fitz grabs his beer and takes a few gulps before slamming it down on the table.
“That’s why he’s such a jerk to me, isn’t it?
Why he ignores me all the time, only talks to me when absolutely necessary.
I’ve been doing everything I can fucking think of to ingratiate myself to him.
And for what? Nothing. Because he’s punishing me for dating you when I fucking asked both of you if it was okay! ”
Fitz’s voice is loud enough to draw attention from the bartender and a few other nearby tables. I force myself not to shrink back, to take the full brunt of his anger and let everyone see just what an asshole I’ve been. It’s the least I deserve after what I put Fitz through.
“I’m sorry.”
“You better fucking be sorry. This is my career you guys have been fucking with.” Fitz leans forward, jabbing his finger on the table’s surface. “Preston’s my fucking mentor in the department, he could screw me over with one fucking word in the right ear.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” I say. Coming to Preston’s defense is second nature to me.
“Sure, he wouldn’t.” Sarcasm drips from Fitz’s voice.
“He wouldn’t. And I’m not just saying that. He takes his research very seriously. He wouldn’t undermine his work for a personal vendetta.”
“Small mercies.”
I can taste the bitterness rolling off Fitz and even though I don’t fault him for it, I won’t stand around and let him besmirch Preston. Fitz can say and do whatever he wants to me, but Preston is off-limits. “You want someone to blame. You should blame me. I’m the one who should’ve known better.”
“Oh, I do blame you. I never said I didn’t.” His glare makes it clear just how much he does.
“Good. I mean, yeah.” God, this sucks. I’m never breaking up with anyone again.
At least, Fitz seems to be losing steam. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes for a moment before putting them back on. “Listen, I’m pissed, obviously.”
“And you have every right to be,” I add quickly.
His eyes flash, not appreciating my attempt to reassure him.
“But I should’ve seen this coming,” Fitz continues. “It’s not like the signs weren’t there, in bright fucking neon. I should’ve listened to my gut.”
Instead of to me. “Sorry.” I almost want to suggest he punch me in the face—it might make both of us feel better.
Fitz picks up his beer and chugs what remains. When he sets it down again, he holds the back of his hand to his mouth and takes a few deep breaths. “How long?”
“Huh?”
“When did you and Preston—” Fitz gestures vaguely with his hand. “Was it when you and I were still—” He waves back and forth between me and him.
“Oh! No!” I’m quick to confirm. “No, Preston and I only started… you know, that day when he freaked out at school and ran out on you.”
Fitz nods. “I figured. But I needed to be sure.”
“Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t—I mean, uh, yeah.”
Fitz glares at me for a few more seconds before speaking again. “Anyway, like I said, I’m pissed, but don’t think I’m heartbroken or anything. I liked you, but I didn’t love you. I’ll get over this, so you can stop with the whole kicked puppy routine.”
I sit up a little straighter and clear my throat. I’m not sure a kicked puppy is the right metaphor since I was the asshole, but I get his point. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to go.” Fitz stands but doesn’t walk away immediately. He taps his fingers on the table a few times. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you around.”
I watch him walk out of the bar, then hang my head with a sigh. That went as well as could be expected, I suppose.
The waiter comes back with the bill and as he slides the paper toward me, he says, “At least you didn’t end up with a face full of beer.”
“Thanks.”
I pay the bill and head over to Mars where Logan, Everest, Beau, and Donnie are all gathered around the front desk. The moment I approach, they fall silent.
Donnie pretends to study the paperwork in front of him. Beau and Everest look everywhere but at me. Only Logan is staring at me wide-eyed, like I caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.
“What is it?” I demand.
“Nothing!” Logan exclaims, his voice squeaking a little.
“It’s obviously not nothing. Just out with it.”
Donnie—the only mature one in the group—sighs and takes off his reading glasses. “Logan saw Fitz through the window and he looked really pissed.”
I sigh and slump against the counter. “Yeah, he is.”
“See! It does have something to do with Sawyer!” Logan elbows Everest in the side.
“Ow! I never said it didn’t!”
“Remember you told me you’re meeting with Fitz before work today? And then I saw him storming past the windows. He looked like he wanted to burn the place to the ground. So… what happened?”
“Jesus, Logan, give the guy a break,” Beau says. “At least let him take his coat off and stash his stuff.”
Logan rolls his eyes. “Fine, go. I’ll interrogate you later.”
And he does, except not later. No, Logan follows me into the staff locker room and hovers next to me as I change into the Mars staff uniform, peppering me with questions.
“I told you Preston would get jealous of you and Fitz,” he says when we head back out to the lobby.
I have a vague memory of him saying something to that effect, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right. “Did you? I don’t remember.”
“I did.” Logan pokes me in the arm to emphasize his point. “So, he’s the one, huh?”
I roll my eyes, but a grin tugs at my lips. “Not this again.”
“Oh, come on.” He bumps me with his shoulder. “He is, isn’t he? Preston’s the one. Just admit it. I’m right. I always am.”
I don’t bother pointing out all the times he’s been wrong about his own love life, because this time, he is right.
“Yes, fine.” I give Logan a playful shove and he dances away. “You’re right. Preston’s the one.”