26. Ava
CHAPTER 26
Ava
PARTNERS IN CRIME
I’m buzzed.
I have a full belly, a delicious mezcal negroni in my hand—my second—and a crowded dinner table.
My daughter is smiling. My house smells delicious. The stars are just blinking awake in the lavender sky outside the windows beside my chair.
Best of all, the four of us, Sawyer, Ella, Junie, and me, worked together to make this meal happen. Sawyer brought the food and mixed the drinks. The girls and I set the table, and then we played several rounds of duck duck goose while he seared the steaks in a cast iron skillet he’d brought over.
Because of course he’d thought to bring it.
And of course it’s his mom’s skillet, the same one she seared steaks in for him and his brothers when they were kids.
I helped out Sawyer, and then he did the same for me— without having to be asked . Same as I’d noticed him fading back at his house, he noticed I’d need a hand with dinner after having the girls all afternoon.
The guy fucking noticed .
Not because he’s in trouble, or because he’s trying to get laid. I’m starting to realize that Sawyer notices because that’s just who he is. He’s a decent, thoughtful, deeply kind human. And tonight, I get to be with him.
Look up bliss in the dictionary, and I’m pretty sure you’ll find a picture of this moment.
“Sawyer, that was so good.” I motion to my empty plate before glancing at June’s. “I mean, even the kids ate it. A meal that appeals to the bigs and the littles? That’s no small feat.”
Sawyer looks at me, his dimple coming out to play as he gives the ice in his glass a shake. “Bigs and littles?”
“Bigs are the big people, like you and Mommy,” Junie explains around a mouthful of potatoes. “Littles are little people, like me and Yella.”
“Yeah, Daddy, we’re little,” Ella says.
“You’re also such a big girl, coming over to our house today all by yourself.” I hold up my hand, and Ella gives me a high five. “I’m proud of you, Ella.”
I turn and see Sawyer still looking at me. The adoring, and very hot, gleam in his eyes has my stomach doing a backflip.
Oh, heavens, we are in it , aren’t we?
One date later— does this count as another date? —and all of a sudden, we’re looking at each other like this. Like I hung the moon, and he lassoed it. Because I know I have that look in my eyes too.
How could I not? Sawyer showed up at my house with an overflowing grocery bag of ingredients that he used to make the most amazing steak dinner ever. He remembered everything, right down to the butter, kosher salt, and sprigs of rosemary he used to season the meat.
He cooked vegetables . Several of them. Ones my child actually ate.
He turned me onto mezcal and a band named First Aid Kit, and then he introduced my daughter to the tickle monster. It was love at first sight for June.
Might’ve been love at first sight for me too. That’s the only explanation for how down bad I am for him at this point in our relationship. I’ve never fallen this hard, this fast. Not even when I was sixteen and falling in love with Dan.
Imagine that—those raging teenage hormones don’t hold a candle to whatever shit is coursing through my being right now.
I’m floating.
I’m so scared and so excited and so eager to know what happens next. Because with Sawyer, every chapter just gets better and better.
I don’t want him to leave. Apparently neither does Junie.
She crawls into my lap and puts her hands on my face. “Mommy?”
“Yes, Bug?”
“Can Yella stay for bath time too?”
Ella’s face lights up. “Can I, Miss Ava? Please please please?”
“Y’all are shameless,” Sawyer says with a chuckle. I notice he’s blushing a little as he runs a hand over his face. “Ella, we should probably get going.”
I put my hands on Junie’s little hips. “I don’t see why Ella can’t stay for bath time. Think we have enough water, Junie?”
“I think so.”
“And soap? Do we have enough of that?”
June looks at her new friend. “Yella, we have so much soap. Probably enough to wash my hair and yours.”
“So what do you say?” I look at Sawyer. “This way, you can put her right to B-E-D when you get home. Start the week off squeaky clean and well rested.”
“You sure?”
I smile. “Can we stop asking each other that already? I’m sure, Sawyer.”
I’m sure about so much more than bath time.
But I’m not ready to explore those feelings, much less talk about them. I’m not ready to face the fact that Sawyer wants a wife, and I am not at all interested in being one. So I stand up and hike Junie onto my hip, telling Sawyer to leave the plates.
He doesn’t, of course.
Junie wiggles her way out of my arms and onto the floor, and she and Ella promptly fly through the living room, where they dive into a basket of Magna-Tiles.
“I’ll clean this up real quick,” Sawyer says, hands full as he heads for the sink.
I roll up my sleeves. “I’ll help.”
I ignore him when he fights me, telling him that whoever cooks shouldn’t have to clean up. Waving the thought away, he scrubs the pots and pans and I load the dishwasher and wipe down the countertop, the two of us chatting about everything and nothing as we move inside the kitchen.
The arousal between my legs that’s been simmering all day bursts to vibrant life when, after Sawyer wipes his hands on a towel, he slips one into the back pocket of my jeans and pulls me to him, my back to his front.
“I’m dyin’,” he murmurs into my nape.
I bite my lip. “Think we can …”
“You game to try? Really?”
It’s adorable how surprised he sounds.
Of course I want to have sex with you. You’re hot as hell with your scruff and your smirks. You made lunch. You made dinner. You poured me not one, but two drinks, and you did the dishes without getting all moody about having to “help.”
“I’m absolutely game to try. But first, bath.”
“Right.” He nips at my shoulder. “ Then bone.”
Laughing, I tell the girls it’s time to get in the tub. There are two bathrooms in the apartment, but the one in the hallway doesn’t have an actual tub. So we head through my bedroom and into the primary bath, where there’s a soaking tub big enough for several adults and about half a dozen kids.
I notice Sawyer glancing around my room as we pass through, no doubt imagining all the fun we’ll be having here next weekend. Although—shit—I only have a queen bed. Seemed like a smart, even prophetic, purchase at the time when I was mattress shopping after Dan and I separated. What did I need a king for, literally or otherwise? Having a smaller bed also meant I’d have more room for books, and the chaise lounge I’m saving up for—it’s where I plan to read all those books.
Standing in that mattress store last fall, I never imagined I’d need a king-size bed. I never thought I’d meet a guy I’d want to bring home, much less one I’d invite to sleep over.
Then I literally knocked into Sawyer, and suddenly I’m wishing I had gone with the king.
Am I being an idiot? What am I missing? Because I have to be missing something here. No guy is this good. This wonderful.
No guy is this committed to letting me be myself. Sawyer wants to get married. Doesn’t he want a proper, ladylike wife? Or am I the one misunderstanding the assignment? What if being a wife—being committed to someone—doesn’t go hand in hand with smothering who I really am?
I mean, what if I’m able to have my cake and eat it too?
Or—more likely scenario—what if that line of thought is yet another trap? One set to lure me into complacency, and then all of a sudden I’m settled down again and Sawyer is asking me to tone it down or telling me nice married ladies don’t stay out so late .
I honestly don’t know what the right answer is. All I know is that it’s time to acknowledge that Sawyer really is different. Dan was never this accepting, this worshipful, of my free spirit, even during the heady early days of our relationship back in high school. I just don’t know if that means my relationship with Sawyer will end up any different. Can I trust this guy to keep his promises?
Or am I just setting myself up for more disappointment? More heartbreak?
The girls are giddy as the big soaking tub fills with warm water. I squeeze in some bubble bath, making Junie squeal with delight, and then Sawyer and I strip down the girls and lift them into the tub.
He and I kneel beside each other, the bottle of baby soap between us. His knee brushes mine, and even that small contact sends my pulse into a tailspin.
Yeah, we’re definitely gonna have to find a way to have a quickie between now and bedtime.
The girls are freaking adorable together. Ella can’t get enough of the little plastic mermaids I recently bought at the dollar store, and she and Junie have a ball singing an off-key rendition of “Part of Your World.”
Sawyer grabs the plastic pitcher I use to rinse June, and he tells the girls to close their eyes. They scream, giggling, when he douses each of them, soaking their hair.
Then I pump soap onto my hands and go to town scrubbing the girls down. At first I hesitate when it’s Ella’s turn—is it weird if I wash her?—but then she’s holding out her cute little feet to me, and I’m playing a game of “This Little Piggy” with her as I lather her up with soap.
Then Sawyer’s dumping water on them again, and they’re screaming and giggling and splashing around, and my hair falls in my face as I hold up my arms in a failed effort to defend myself.
Without missing a beat, Sawyer tucks my hair behind my ears. His fingers are wet, but that only helps my hair stay in place.
The gesture is small. Simple.
I also find it achingly romantic, this man helping me get my hair out of my face while our daughters have a ball in the bathtub together. I decide to set aside the jumble of questions in my head and just enjoy this time. What else can I do? I know better than to let the unknown ruin a magical moment.
I look at Sawyer and smile. “Ever think your best date ever would happen in a bathroom?”
“What’s a date?” Junie asks.
Sawyer hands her the small plastic pitcher. “It’s when two people who like each other go do something fun together.”
Ella scrunches her nose. “Are you gonna kiss like Prince Eric and Ariel?”
“I don’t know.” Sawyer’s head swings in my direction. “Are we going to kiss, Miss Ava?”
Heat floods my face. “Kissing is … fun. When it’s with the right person.”
“I never thought my best date would be in a bathroom, no,” he replies with a grin.
My heart pounds. “So this is your best date.”
“I took a four-hour nap before this. Of course it’s my best date. Might be my best day .”
Laughing, I give him a shove. “Sorry for the very embarrassing confession. I clearly need to get out more.”
“With me you do, yeah.”
He’s doing that thing where he looks at me intently. There’s this steadiness about Sawyer—this confidence he has—that is somehow enormously calming and wildly sexy.
He’s fearful of putting himself out there, but he does it anyway.
He does it with me.
I’m gripped by that same sense of wildness I felt in Austin, when I stripped Sawyer naked and demanded he dance with me for all the city to see. He loved it then.
Bet he’ll love it now.
After we towel off the girls and put them in front of a movie in the living room, I grab the front of his shirt and tug him back inside my bedroom.
“Close the door,” I whisper. “And don’t you dare ask me if I’m sure. You can’t leave me like this.”
“Like what?” Smirking, he pushes the door shut behind him, careful not to make a sound as he puts his hands on my waist and starts backing me up toward the bathroom.
See? See how obsessed he is with this side of you?
“Like I’m gonna die if I can’t have you.” I slip my hands inside his shirt, my pussy lighting up at the feel of his abdominal muscles contracting beneath my touch.
He’s so solid. Strong.
Like me, he’s burning up. We step inside the bathroom, the warm air still tinged with the lavender scent of the baby soap.
“Aw, baby, you got me.” He kicks the door shut behind us as he leans down to suck on my nipple through my shirt. “Anytime. For as long as you’ll let me stay.” Straightening, he looks me in the eye. “’Cause I wanna stay, pretty girl.”
My throat swells with emotion. I drape my arms over his shoulders. “I know you do.”
“Let me,” he murmurs, kissing my mouth. “Let me, Ava.” He kisses one cheek, then the other. “Please let me stay.”
I close my eyes, the burn there almost unbearable.
I think I’m in love with you, I want to say. I’m scared out of my mind, but I’m thinking about it, Sawyer.
I’m thinking about letting you stay.
Instead, I nod my head and bury my face in his neck. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in for a tight hug.
I hug him back, my body—my fear—unfurling as his warmth and his certainty seeps into me.
We’re okay , his heart says, beating wildly.
Holy shit, we’re okay. He’s not pulling back or telling me to tone it down. He’s all in. Jumping in with both feet.
He’s as turned on by this spontaneous bit of fun as I am.
I slant my mouth over his. He’s grabbing the back of my legs and lifting me onto the sink vanity. I laugh into his kiss when the random shit I have on the counter goes everywhere. For a split second we go still, listening for the sound of little footsteps.
None come.
I reach for the fly of his jeans. He pulls down my own jeans as I work his dick free, giving him a firm pump before thumbing the head, smearing his pre-cum over the velvety skin there.
He groans, biting down my bottom lip.
“I have an IUD,” I breathe. “And I’m—there’s still nothing else to worry about on my end.”
Sawyer groans again. He reaches between us and thumbs my clit. “Same. Yes. My God, Ava, yes .”
“You still need to be quiet,” I whisper as I straddle his hips with my knees and pull him closer, notching him at my entrance. I close my eyes. “Think you can do that?”
“I got no choice,” he says as he sinks inside me the tiniest bit. “Oh, Ava, you feel—” He lets out a sputtering breath and leans his forehead against mine. “So fucking good. Let me. Please. For the love of God, please.”
The pleading edge in his voice turns my heart inside out. I open my eyes to see him looking at me. Grabbing his ass, I push him inside me a little deeper. At the same time, he keeps circling my clit with his thumb, causing sparks to erupt up and down the length of my spine.
The burning pressure in my core builds as he sinks to the hilt. He looks me in the eye the whole time, his pupils blowing out so the blue of his irises is barely visible.
It’s the animal in him, blinking awake. He grabs me, roughly wrapping an arm around my waist so he can control the rhythm of his thrusts as he pulls out, rocks back in. I whimper at the delicious feel of our bareness.
His other hand snakes between us and hikes my shirt up over one breast, then the other. I’m not wearing a bra—I rarely do when I’m at home—so he’s able to tweak my nipples with his thumb and forefinger.
I bite back a cry. I feel myself contract around his length, my orgasm approaching with almost-frightening speed.
Sawyer groans again, this time loud enough to make me say, “ Quiet .”
“I can’t,” he grunts, pumping into me.
I flatten my palm over his mouth. “You will.”
His gaze goes feral.
Oh, my cowboy likes that.
“You best not give us away,” I whisper. “You do, and there’ll be hell to pay.”
In reply, he impales me on a deep, vicious thrust, one thumb on my clit, the other on my nipple. I feel myself coming apart, my pussy fluttering around his dick.
“That’s a good boy,” I pant. “You’re so good at this, honey.”
Sawyer bites my palm. At the same time, he presses his thumb, hard , against my clit.
I come with such force that it literally hurts to hold back my scream.
The bareness, the quiet, the bite.
The dinner, the dishes, the way our daughters get along.
I’m in heaven, aren’t I?
I’m shaking as I come back down to earth. Sawyer pounds into me, grunting against my hand before spilling inside me.
I gasp at the feeling of warmth that spreads through my center. I forgot how messy this was.
I forgot how lovely it feels to be, well, loved this way. So utterly and completely loved that Sawyer literally can’t control himself as he adores me. I have to hold my hand over his mouth to keep his yells quiet.
It’s like he wants the whole world to know about us.
I hold him as he catches his breath, pulling away my hand when I feel it’s safe. His forehead is on mine again as he presses his lips to the corner of my mouth.
“Okay?” he breathes.
I nod. “I’m okay. You?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You won’t be in my bed tonight, so I’m not okay. How can we fix that, pretty girl?”
I laugh against his lips. “Baby steps.”
“I’m ready. You set the pace, but I need you to know that I’m in.”
“We have this weekend. Next weekend. Whatever.”
“I’ll take what you can give me. Look.” Rocking his hips, he pulls out of me. “Look how much I want you.”
Together, we look down. His cum leaks out of me in a pearlescent stream.
The sight is lewd. And so hot, so weirdly emotional , I feel my throat closing in again.
“I like the look of me between your legs.” He swipes his first two fingers through my slit, gathering his cum on his fingertips. “The feel of me. Do you?”
“Sawyer—”
“You can’t tell me you don’t.” He paints my nipple with his cum. “I wanna be everywhere, Ava. All over you, every morning and every night. Once a day ain’t nearly enough.”
I swallow, hard. “It’s not.”
“So let me have you, pretty girl.” He leans in to kiss my mouth. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
* * *
I walk Sawyer and Ella out, and then I put Junie to bed. The kitchen is already clean. The dishwasher is already running.
So I put on my jammies, climb into bed, and promptly burst into tears.
I feel shaky. Like I can’t calm down or control my wild heartbeat. My wild thoughts.
Ones like, oh God I’m in love again and how the hell is this so good so soon?
I knew getting divorced was the right call. I knew I’d never be happy if I lived a life of self-betrayal. But part of me still saw ending my marriage as a tragedy. How could raising my baby in a broken home be a net positive?
But now I have a true, deep understanding of the fact that raising June in an unhappy home would be worse. Mostly because I see what a happy home—a happy relationship— could look like with Sawyer.
Do I trust him to stay true to the man I know him to be? Can I trust him to always respect my freedom?
Even if I’m able to trust him, I still don’t want to be his wife. And I’m not sure it’s fair of me to ask him to compromise on that. If he wants to get married, he should be able to get married. Everyone deserves to be happy. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew my version of happiness came at the expense of Sawyer’s.
I curl up into a ball and cry the kind of cry you feel in your chest. I wish I knew how to have the freedom I crave while also being in a relationship, but I don’t.
How do I face Sawyer again, knowing I can’t give him what he wants?
How do I even talk to him about any of this? Yeah, we talked about wanting different things that night we went on our first official date. But now it’s time to move beyond that.
It’s time to make a choice. And I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do.