4. Sawyer
4
SAWYER
I rub the ache in my chest as I walk out of her room. All I wanted to do was pick her up, sit her on my knee, and tell her everything’s gonna be all right.
Her dad should be here to comfort her, but I know he’s had it hard these last few years. Angie was the love of his life and after the accident, he struggled to focus at work with our building and renovation partnership. Luckily, I could take up the slack.
Walking past the deer on the wall, I narrow my eyes and huff. “You could’ve warned me she was here.” I swear the damn thing smirks at me.
Ignoring the deer, I open the oven door and waft the steam out of my face. The garlic bread and aroma from the lasagna fills the room. I’d like to say it’s authentic cuisine, but this is just a ready meal from Tesco. Living alone, it seems pointless going all out cooking a gourmet meal, but now Angelica’s here, I’ll have to up my cooking skills.
Splitting the tray between the two of us and slicing the garlic bread, I place it onto the breakfast bar and sit at the stool in the kitchen with a fork.
Angelica descends the stairs and pads through the space in her flannel pyjamas, her brown and blonde locks practically dry now, hanging in waves over her shoulders.
She smiles as she climbs onto the stool opposite me and picks up a fork. “This is lovely. Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
She lifts her head, her eyebrows pinched. “What for?”
“For being here. This meal wouldn’t be half as good if I was eating alone.” I break off a piece of garlic bread and dip it into the lasagna. “So when did you get the Cruella de Vil look?”
She rolls her eyes. “Cruella is black and white. This is blonde and brunette.” Her fingers tangle in the waves as she runs them through to the ends of her hair. “Don’t you like it?”
I chew on my food while I study the split colour down the centre of her head. She’s always had an alternate style and artistic streak. It suits her. Nodding, I mumble with a mouthful of garlic bread, “It’s growing on me.”
She shuffles in her seat with a hint of a smile playing on her lips and forks some of the lasagna.
“Be careful with that. It’s hot. Make sure you blow on it.”
She giggles. “I’m not a child.”
A smile curves my lips. “I know that. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to take care of you.” No matter how old she gets, I’ll always take care of her. But now I’m seeing the woman she is for the first time, and it scares the hell out of me.
Visions of her in the shower and those little dimples above her ass have burned themselves into my mind. I shouldn’t be thinking of her that way. I shouldn’t be thinking of how I want to kiss those dimples, soap up her delicious curves and wash her with my bare hands, slip between her legs and find her little button that will make all her worries disappear.
“Uncle Sawyer?” Her sweet voice sings to me like an angel’s song.
I clear my throat and will myself to focus on the present. “Yeah?”
“What do you think?”
“About what?” I must have zoned out while she was talking.
“Decorating for Christmas. I’m sure the old decorations are in the garage.” She moves the food around her plate. “If you’d rather not, that’s okay. I can do it myself.”
“Whatever you want, angel.” Now she’s here, it seems only natural to make the place look festive. When it was just me, I didn’t see the point, but she makes everything seem brighter, as if the room’s already shimmering with lights, and that’s just from the smile she’s wearing that reaches her eyes. She gives me a purpose. I should take better care of myself and stop living on takeout and Tesco ready meals, even if they are Tesco’s finest. Now she’s here, I’ll put the central heating on instead of just a fire to heat one room.
She narrows her eyes, staring at me. “So what’s your story? Why are you here?”
I’m gonna need a drink for this one. I swivel the stool and take the few steps to the fridge. “Your dad said I could crash here until after the holidays.”
“What happened to Bertha or Belinda or whatever her name was? Sorry, I can’t remember who you were staying with.”
A chuckle shakes my belly as I reach for a beer. “Brenda.” I close the fridge and open a drawer for the bottle opener. “I haven’t dated Brenda since your twenty-first birthday party.”
“Oh.” She shuffles on her stool, reaching for a piece of garlic bread.
“I was dating a woman, but I caught her with a biker from the other side of town. So I had to find somewhere else to live.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” A half laugh puffs out of me. “I’m glad. The bloke’s welcome to her and her miserable teenage son. The dude hated me anyway.”
“I mean, I’m sorry you had nowhere to live.”
“You know me. I’m never in one place for too long. If it wasn’t for your dad, I probably wouldn’t have kept a job as long as I have.”
“Well, it is your business, so it’s not like you can fire yourself.”
“That’s true. Or I’d probably have been out on my ass a long time ago.”
“You’re good at what you do.” She waves a hand around the cabin. “You’ve fixed the place up a little, haven’t you?”
I glance up at the wooden beams in the kitchen ceiling, remembering renovating this place with her dad. “Colin only kept this place for your mum.”
“He would do anything for Mum, wouldn’t he?”
“Yeah, he would.” I was always envious of him in that way. He had it all. A wife and daughter. Things I’d give my right arm for, but I’ve never had the pleasure of experiencing a love like that. Now I’m glad, after seeing how it almost killed him after her accident. I never want to experience that.
It’s why he’s always been so overprotective of Angelica. I know she moved to London to show him she’s a grown woman who can stand on her own two feet. Her absence made him do something for himself and get back in the dating game again. “I’m glad he’s happy again.”
“Do you see much of her?”
“I see them together at the bar, yeah. Her husband passed a few years back. They’ve both been able to heal each other.”
“I’m glad.”
“I hope it lasts for him.” Sooner or later, every relationship ends, whether it’s through a bad breakup or the woman walks out, cheats, or dies.
“I’m sure it will.” The young woman before me knows nothing of the heartache relationships cause. Eventually, they all end in tears.
I’m no good for any woman, let alone one as sweet as her. Another reason I cannot and absolutely will not touch my best friend’s daughter.