32. Sawyer
SAWYER
I change into one of the more casual dresses that Julian bought me, put on some boots, and fluff my hair a bit before I make my way back out of the bathroom. He’s looking just as panty-soaking hot as always, and what I wouldn’t give to let him take me right here, right now. But instead, I’ve got a table full of the world’s richest people to piss off tonight.
We decide to take the outdoor route, and I bask in the chilly fall air as he leads me around the house to the back terrace. There’s a big, long table set up with a whole friggin’ feast and servers everywhere. Cato and Angelina sit at one end of the table, Brooks on one side, and two empty seats on the other for us.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Angelina says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve had Emile get some fresh salmon from the seafood market.”
My mouth waters.
I do love a good piece of salmon.
“No Keaton?” Julian asks as he pulls my chair out for me. Cato flashes him a look and another one of those sly smiles he seems to be full of.
“He won’t be making it out for the party,” Cato says. “But I’m sure you already knew that, eh, son?”
Julian doesn’t respond, just sits down next to me.
The servers bring us drinks, appetizers, and salads all before the main course comes out, and I wonder how they’re not all four hundred pounds. I’m stuffed before I even finish my salad.
Julian reaches for my hand under the table, and at first, I think it’s meant to be that way. But then, he leans back in his chair, holding it out in the open for the world to see. Cato glances at us then sits back in his own chair while the pre-courses are cleared from the table.
“So,” he says, “Sawyer. Tell us how you met our Julian.”
I swallow. I look at him, but he just smiles, nodding.
We don’t need to hide anything.
“I, uh…I’m actually a student at Carrington,” I say. Cato’s eyes flash to Julian then back to me. “I was trying to escape campus the day of the shooting, and?—”
“She saved my life that day,” Julian says, looking nowhere but at me. His father’s eyes grow wide as they land on me. “I was just arriving to campus for my speech when the shooter had started. Sawyer was running and saw us. She stopped us from walking right in the shooter’s direction. We ended up helping her get off campus, and we’ve been attached ever since.”
The table is silent, and I feel my palm getting clammy pressed up against Julian’s. But he doesn’t budge. In fact, he just squeezes it tighter, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.
“Well, I, uh…I don’t know what to say, Sawyer,” Cato says, his eyes moving back and forth between me and Julian. “And I’m not a man who is rendered speechless often. Thank you. Thank you for warning my son.”
I look up at him, our eyes locked. I know there are a lot of complicated sides to this man, but the look in his eyes right now feels genuine. And I’m uncomfortable. I don’t like to be thanked. I don’t like to be complimented. And I do not know what to do with this.
Deflect. Deflect.
“I was just in the right place at the right time,” I reiterate. “Julian is the one who got me out.”
“Sounds like you saved each other,” Brooks chimes in, presumably before Cato can jump back on the obviously-you’re-just-using-my-son train. I look at him, and he smiles softly.
“That’s what we like to think,” Julian says, looking down at me and kissing the top of my head.
“So you’re a college student, then,” Cato says, a statement rather than a question. I nod. “Makes you seem like an old man, Julian,” he says with a coy smile.
“Just taking notes from you, Dad,” Julian quips with a nod in Angelina’s direction. Cato smiles and clears his throat, turning back to me.
“And what is it you’re studying?”
“Communications,” I say. “My track is PR, but I’m not sure what I want to do yet. Just something to pay the bills and help my mom out.”
I figure there’s no use in playing any games or pretending to have decorum that I most certainly don’t. Lay it all out for them so there is nothing left for them to sniff out. Besides, I lead a pretty boring, lower-middle-class life. Sniff away.
“And where are you from?”
“Seattle,” I say. “Actually, I’m going back in a few days to see my mom for the holidays. It’ll be a fast turnaround, but I can’t wait to see her just for a little while.”
Cato smiles, hanging on every word I say.
“Is it just you and your mom, then?” Angelina asks, taking a sip of her wine. I nod.
“Yep, just us,” I say.
“And why the fast turnaround? Doesn’t the university get a few weeks off for the semester break?” Cato asks.
“Yes, we do. Classes have been canceled since the shooting, anyway. But I can’t take too many days off work.” This catches him by surprise.
“Ah, I see. And what do you do for work?”
“I work as a clerk at a mini-mart off campus,” I say. “Nothing fancy, but it pays for what my scholarships don’t.”
“Scholarships, plural,” Cato says. “Impressive. Sounds like you’re no stranger to hard work, Sawyer.”
I shake my head.
“Doesn’t scare me,” I say.
He doesn’t say much else, but throughout the rest of lunch, I can feel his eyes on us, watching the way we interact, catching any display of affection Julian may have toward me. But every time he looks at us, I look back. I lock my eyes on him.
“Alright,” Angelina finally says, clapping her hands together, “it’s about that time. The stylists should be here any minute. Sawyer, why don’t you come with me? We can get pampered before the party.”
I swallow, looking at Julian, who looks more uneasy than I am. But I turn back to Angelina and smile.
“That sounds like fun,” I tell her. “Anything for the birthday girl.”
She smiles and stands up from the table while all three of the men follow suit.
“You good?” Julian asks me. I smile and nod, trying to look way more comfortable than I already am.
“Yeah, it’s girl time,” I say with a wink. He smiles.
“We will be in my father’s study on a call,” he says. “Text or call me if you need me.”
I nod, then Angelina holds a hand out in my direction, and I take it, following her off the terrace and into the maze that is Bedell House.
I follow her blindly through the halls until I figure out that we’re back in the family wing again—only, on the other side of it.
“Have you been here before?” she asks as she leads me to the last door of the hall. I nod.
“Just once, briefly. Not that that would help much,” I chuckle. “This place is insane.” She smiles as she opens the door, leading me into yet another giant suite.
“It is,” she says. “And so beautiful. And deserving of so much love, but it hardly gets any anymore.”
I follow her through the room into what can only be described as the biggest fucking closet on the fucking planet. She hits a light switch, and a salon chair moves out from the back of the room to the center of it. The lights change from dim overheads to brighter fluorescents, and Beyonce begins to play over the surround sound. The walls are lined with floor-length gowns, shoes, and bags, and huge diamond jewelry sits on every corner encased in thick glass.
“This feels fake,” I say. Angelina laughs as she kicks her shoes off on the floor and walks through the room into the bathroom.
“It does,” she says. “A lot of this isn’t mine,” she calls from the bathroom. “Most of it was actually Catherine’s, Cato’s mother.” She comes back out wrapped in a silk robe and takes a seat in the salon chair. She motions to a chaise in the corner of the room. “Please, sit.” A moment later, one of the staff brings in a tray of mimosas, and Angelina looks at me. “Just something to take the edge off.”
We hold our glasses up in the air, then she sits back in the chair as we sip in awkward silence.
“I still can’t believe this is real,” I murmur as I look around. Angelina sighs.
“I know,” she says. “I’ll never be used to it. And I know it’s fleeting, so I try to soak in every moment.”
My eyes drop to hers.
“Fleeting?” I ask. She tilts her flute up, emptying it into her mouth.
“Of course, hon,” she says. “Men like the Everetts…they can have everything and anything they want. Literally. No exaggeration. Businesses, homes, entire towns if they wanted. There is no limit. And you and me? We’re just stops on the way, sweetie. I know it. I know that, right now, I have enough of what Cato wants to keep him. But my day will come. I can feel it starting. The solo business trips. The meetings all day, the calls all night. But when he’s gone, I get to be here, or in one of our other homes, playing queen of the castle. I know Cato’s life will go on long after me. So now, I spend my time planning how mine will go after him.”
I swallow.
We’re just stops on the way.
I think she can feel the tension she’s created, so she clears her throat as she stands up to grab another robe from a hanger.
“Enough of that,” she says. “It’s my birthday, and we’re going to celebrate. Go put this on.”