Chapter Nineteen
Sawyer
My alarm sounded way too early Monday morning, and I groaned as I blindly reached for my phone, plugged in and resting atop one of Rory’s nightstands. I couldn’t say for sure what time I’d finally drifted to sleep, but I knew it was sometime after midnight. Judging by my heavy eyelids, my body wasn’t nearly rested enough to seriously entertain the thought of waking.
I’d lost a lot of time over the weekend—minutes, sometimes hours just gone. Vanished. Mysteriously sucked into the black hole that was Rory and me, together and alone.
As soon as I’d silenced my phone, I was on the verge of rolling over and seeking out Rory’s warmth when I remembered why my alarm had been set for six o’clock. I forced my eyes fully open and willed myself upright.
It was ten o’clock Sunday night in Palo Alto and Diane was going to call me in fifteen minutes. This was the most realistic window of opportunity we had to connect before the work week and before my date with Rory—a date I hadn’t yet told her about, seeing as news of Rory and me was far too big to communicate via text.
I drew in a deep breath, raked my fingers through my hair, and then found my way onto my feet. As I’d managed not to wake Rory thus far, I tiptoed into the hallway, closing his bedroom door behind me before slipping into his guest bathroom. I splashed a bit of water on my face and rinsed my mouth in an effort to rouse myself a bit more. After drying my face, I tried to make my hair a little more presentable, giving up when I was overtaken by a yawn.
I wanted coffee, but I had no idea how to use Rory’s moka, and I wasn’t nearly awake enough to try and figure it out. Instead, I headed for the couch, folded my legs against my chest, then covered them with the excess fabric of the sweatshirt Rory let me borrow. I then shot Diane a text, letting her know I was awake and ready whenever she was.
Her face was on my phone three minutes later.
“Oh, honey, you look exhausted,” she said in greeting.
I laughed groggily as I replied, “Thanks. It’s good to see you, too.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I feel bad, is all. I wish we could manage to catch each other during my morning and your afternoon.”
“You could move to New York. That might make it easier,” I teased.
“I’ll float the idea by Brady and see what he thinks.”
“Hi, Sawyer!” he yelled from somewhere off screen.
“Hey, Brady,” I called back, not nearly as loud.
Diane turned and told him, “She says hi, back,” before she refocused her attention one me and asked, “Where are you, by the way? I don’t recognize anything behind you.”
I was getting used to the way he made me smile every time I thought about him, but I usually couldn’t see myself when I did it. Having caught a glimpse of my face, I was startled to see how happy I looked.
“Oh, my—no!” she gasped.
My smile stretched into a grin, and she sucked in an excited breath.
“Seriously?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Is that his sweatshirt you’re wearing?”
I nodded and her mouth fell open, much like Victoria’s had when she found out.
“Honey! Look at you, you’re glowing.”
“He’s…he’s pretty great,” I blurted. “And by pretty great I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before, which sounds dramatic and cliché, but it’s true. And it sort of freaks me out, because I really don’t want to mess it up—but I’ve got this feeling that, I don’t know, that maybe this might be something real. It’s only been a couple days, but it feels so solid .”
“I think it’s great you’re already feeling so comfortable, although it’s not altogether surprising. You’ve never dated anyone who was your friend first. You’re not starting from lust; you’re starting from a place of established trust. It makes a huge difference.”
“I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way,” I murmured, instantly sure she was right. “Everything feels so new.”
“Hold on, I’m going to need you to rewind. You said it’s been a couple days, but the last I heard—what, a week ago?—you were adamant he wasn’t interested.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“So, what happened?”
I took a breath then let it out in a huff as I tried to gather my thoughts. I then started with news of the most recent break-in, which she didn’t take too kindly.
When I got to the part about Iris, she was ecstatic. I thought it entirely possible she would forgo visiting me in London in favor of coming with me to Paris.
We’d been on the phone for almost an hour by the time I arrived at Sunday night.
“I won’t lie, we’ve spent a good amount of time naked together since that became an option—but last night was different. He got home from work, and instead of going at each other, he offered to make me a drink. He made himself one too, and we actually drank them this time. Then we just… talked . For hours.”
My gaze drifted over the phone and onto the bookshelves that flanked his fireplace, memories of our conversation popping in my head like sparks in a crackling fire.
“We discussed books and art and politics , of all things. I actually learned quite a bit last night. It was around midnight when we decided to go to bed. But even after he turned out the lights, we laid together and kept talking.
“In the dark, I admitted things I’ve never told any man. About my mom and our complicated dynamic. He opened up, too, about the relationship he had with his grandpa—especially after his uncle died. I don’t know what time we fell asleep.”
“Oh, my gosh, I love all of this. You two are like teenagers, staying up all hours of the night, unable to get enough of each other.” Diane sighed wistfully. “I remember those early days with Brady. They were pretty special.”
I propped my chin atop my knees as I realized aloud, “Actually, I remember that, too. You were totally smitten.”
“Yeah, just like you are now.”
I scrunched my nose playfully in response.
“Don’t make that face at me, you know it’s true. I’m about two seconds away from buying a plane ticket so I can come meet this Rory who’s stealing my best friend’s heart.”
I pulled my lower lip between my teeth and held back the words that had raced to the tip of my tongue, not sure I was ready to say them aloud—not even to Diane.
It scared me to admit it, but I didn’t think Rory would have to steal anything.
While I was at work, Rory installed more security cameras for me. I also made an appointment with a locksmith, who would drop by the following day to re-key my flat. A detective came in to inform me they had captured footage of my intruder running away on Friday night—but other than the person’s height, they couldn’t make out much else.
Now, more than ever, I was grateful Rory had thought to install my security system.
At six o’clock, I said goodnight to Victoria, who offered to close the shop for me so I could sneak upstairs and get ready for my date. It had been a long time since I went through so much trouble to gussy myself up for a man, but in all my excitement, I was feeling exceptionally girly, and I wanted to give myself as much time as possible.
I showered, allowing me to shave as well as wash and condition my mane. Freshly bathed, I lathered myself in lotion and then took my time blow drying and styling my hair. I wore it how I liked it best—a little tousled, a little curled, with the perfect amount of volume.
I did my whole makeup routine, doubling up on my mascara to give my eyes a little extra flare, and I was sure to apply a couple spritz of my favorite perfume.
For my outfit, I opted for a fitted, black, long-sleeve shirt—the neckline dipping just low enough to show off a hint of cleavage—along with my brown, faux-leather mini skirt. I covered my legs with a pair of sheer, black tights, and completed the outfit with black, suede ankle booties with a stiletto heel.
It was a quarter after seven when Rory buzzed up to my flat. I was quick to slip into my coat before I grabbed my purse and my keys and hurried down to meet him.
When I opened the door, my stomach clenched.
If it were plausible for James Bond to be a redhead with a short-trimmed beard—well, I had first dibs.
He had on a white, collared button-up underneath a pale gray, crew-neck sweater and a pair of navy slacks. Under the lapels of his coat, he had a scarf draped down either side of his chest. He stood there, at my doorstep, his coat spread open and his hands in his pant pockets, looking sophisticated, suave, and positively kissable.
“Hi,” he muttered as he leaned in to press his lips to mine. He kissed me once, then once more, hardly pulling away as he said, “You look fantastic.”
Pressing up onto my toes, I initiated another kiss before I whispered, “So do you.”
“Shall we get out of here?”
“Mmhmm,” I hummed.
He pulled his face away from mine and offered me his elbow. I locked up, dropped my keys in my purse, and looped my arm through his as we started for the corner.
“One thing I didn’t take into consideration when we set our date was that Valentine’s Day is only a couple of days away. I had a bit of a time finding us a table. Where we’re going isn’t my first choice, but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway.”
“I’m not picky. And at the risk of sounding totally cheesy, so long as you’re there, I don’t really care where we end up.”
“That was, in fact, completely cheesy. It’s a good thing I’m not lactose intolerant.”
I laughed, amused not merely by the pun, but the playful way he’d one-upped my level of cheese as we continued our unhurried stroll.
It amazed me how different he was when he let his guard down. He was already interesting, the mystery of the man behind the scowl making him so, but I was learning he was more multifaceted than I’d assumed. He was witty and sweet; intelligent and driven; patient and kind; all the while so confident in who he was, he didn’t pretend to be anything more or less than himself, and he never apologized for it, either.
“Our ride should be here shortly,” he told me as we came to a stop.
“Where are we going?”
“A steakhouse in Covent Garden.”
“Oh, that sounds nice.”
“It’s good, and they serve a decent cocktail.”
His mention of their cocktails reminded me of the last time we went out to dinner.
“Can you believe this time last week, we were climbing into a different Uber, as neighbors? Friends . And now…”
“Now what?” he asked, not unkindly.
“Now everything is different.”
“Is it? I don’t know. We didn’t find ourselves here overnight. I wanted you then as I do now, but it didn’t seem like a good idea at the time.”
“And now? Is this a good idea, or did we just start something that’s unstoppable?”
He didn’t answer me right away, his eyes dancing around my face as he stared at me—our faces lit only by the streetlight a few yards away. Finally, when I was on the cusp of feeling anxious, he slipped his free hand out of his pocket and traced the back of one of his fingers down my cheek and along my jaw, tilting my head back slightly.
“Both, I think,” he muttered before descending for a light kiss.
He’d barely pulled away as our car arrived. We climbed in and out of the cold, and it wasn’t too long before we’d reached our destination. The restaurant was busy, but warm and inviting, and our table was ready right on time.
Dinner was delicious, and my company even more so.
There was newfound freedom between us. I could touch him when I wanted to and allow my gaze to linger longer than I could before. I did this often, which was how I knew he was as enamored by me as I was by him.
When we were offered dessert, unlike last time, Rory was quick to decline. Knowing what came after our official first date, I wasn’t the least bit disappointed.
He settled our bill, and when we stood to leave, he helped me back into my coat.
My ginger was a gentleman.
We were halfway to the door when I spotted her, making her way out of the restroom. I did a double take, not quite sure if it was her until her eyes locked with mine.
She jolted at the sight of me, and I stopped when she uttered, “Maeve.”
I thought about correcting her, but then I watched as Juliet took me in more fully—her gaze halting when she noticed my hand, tucked inside of Rory’s.
She raised a single, manicured eyebrow as her eyes shot up to look at Rory before connecting with mine once more.
“I’m surprised you’re still here, in London. I thought by now you would have grown homesick and gone back to the States. I see why you haven’t.”
Something told me it was a waste of breath, but I couldn’t help but to respond, “He’s not the reason I came any more than he’s the reason I’m staying. You know that. This is my home now, whether you want to accept it or not.”
“Right, well, whatever,” she said flippantly, tucking her clutch underneath her arm. “Enjoy what remains of your night. I must be getting back to mine.”
She brushed by us before I could say another word, and I watched her go more annoyed than offended.
“Sawyer,” Rory called softly, squeezing my hand. I turned to look up at him, and he nodded toward the door and insisted, “Come, darling. Let’s get out of here.”
I nodded and followed his lead.
Our clothes were scattered from the front door to the bedroom—but we hadn’t made it to the bed. I was also fairly certain my tights had been ruined in our hurry to remove them.
In the end, it was totally worth it.
We were stretched out on the rug that bordered his bed as we came down from the high of our passion. We’d neglected to use a condom again—only, this time, it wasn’t so much an accident as it was a silent agreement. He’d spilled his seed on my stomach, but the sex had been so great, I couldn’t bother moving in order to clean myself up just yet.
“Sweetheart?”
“Hmm?” I breathed, my eyes still closed as I relished the memory of him between my legs.
“Maybe we should talk about getting you on the pill.”
I grimaced, opening my eyes as I turned my face so I might see his.
He was already looking at me.
“I always said I wouldn’t take a pill. I know it might seem reckless, but it messes with a woman’s hormones. It could even change the way my body looks. I just—it freaks me out.”
“Okay,” he muttered with a scowl, this one reading more confused than anything else. “I respect that.”
“There are other options, though. I’m not opposed to birth control, I just need to find the right one for me. It’s been years since I’ve had a partner that I—”
“I understand. Me too,” he interrupted, sparing me from spelling it out. “Don’t move. I’ll get something to clean you up.”
He disappeared into the bathroom and came back a minute later with a warm, damp wash cloth. He was gentle, like wiping away the evidence of his pleasure was meant to be pleasurable in itself.
When he was finished, he snagged his trunks from the floor and asked, “Are you thirsty? I’m going to fetch a glass of water.”
“Yes. Water sounds great. I’ll come with you.”
I didn’t bother with any of my clothes but slipped into his button-up instead. As we approached the kitchen, I spotted my purse, abandoned by the door, half its contents spilling out from the top.
Laughing under my breath, I went to pick it up. When I grabbed my phone, I noticed I had a few new notifications. I frowned when I realized they were alerts, warning me of movement in my flat.
“Rory? Rory, someone’s broken-in again!”
I dropped my purse for a second time as I raced toward the kitchen.
“What? When?”
“Now!” I cried, holding up my phone so he could see.
“Fuck,” he bit out before sprinting down the hall. “Phone the police!” he called as he went.
“Wh—okay. What are you going to do?” I asked, trailing after him.
“I’m going over there,” he answered matter-of-factly.
He was jumping into a pair of jeans faster than I could fully process what was happening.
“Are you sure? I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“This is the second time in four days, Sawyer. It’s bloody insane, and I won’t stand for it,” he replied, snatching up his crew neck from the floor. “Phone the police.”
He slipped his bare feet into his shoes, and then he was gone.
My heart was racing as I dialed nine-nine-nine. I relayed my emergency and the address, sure to convey this wasn’t the first time. When I was informed help was on the way, I checked in on the cameras again.
Rory had installed two—one hidden in the corner, aimed outside my front door; the other was in the corner of my living room. I couldn’t find him in either view.
There was no way I was going to be able to wait for help to arrive.
I needed to get over there.
The sweatshirt Rory had let me borrow earlier was still folded over the foot of the bed. I threw it on and then went looking for my skirt. Next, it was my turn to tuck my bare feet into my shoes before running out the door. I was sure I looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care.
As soon as I hit the stairwell, leading up to the third floor of my building, I heard the sound of an argument. Their voices were too muffled for me to hear what either of them were saying, and it only incentivized me to take the stairs two at a time.
I wasn’t wearing any underwear, but modesty be damned.
The higher I climbed, the clearer it became the person arguing with Rory was a woman. When I reached the landing and grabbed at my doorknob, I was met with resistance. For a moment, the yelling stopped. The door opened a crack and Rory’s face appeared.
He looked me up and down, and I watched his hardened face soften before he quirked an eyebrow at me and asked, “Really?”
“What? Did you think I would just stay on the sideline for this? Let me in.”
“Very well,” he conceded, stepping aside to grant me entrance.
I stopped short when I saw not just one woman but two.
Eloise was as casual as I’d ever seen her, in a pair of black jeans, a black sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. Juliet, standing beside her at the mouth of my kitchen, hadn’t even changed since we’d seen her after dinner.
“ You? ” was all I could think to say.
“Nobody else seemed to be able to get the job done,” she replied coolly. She then gave her daughter a sideways glance as she added, “Not even with the help of a key.”
I knit my eyebrows together as I looked between the two of them, trying to piece together what she could have meant. It seemed I’d suspected the wrong sibling all along.
“What job?” I asked, shifting my focus back onto Juliet. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you have no right to be here. Not in this flat. Not in this building. And while I can’t have you kicked out of the country, I would if I could.”
I reared my head back, as if I’d been slapped.
“That’s— dramatic .”
“Dramatic?” she bit. “No, I’ll tell you what’s dramatic—my late husband bequeathing you with all of this, having never met you! And the nerve of you to accept it.”
My eyebrows shot up my forehead as I gasped, “The nerve of me?”
In the flurry of my emotions, I found it difficult to empathize with the woman, too fed up with her refusal to empathize with me. I couldn’t figure out any other way to express why I’d chosen to move my life to London; why I thought it my responsibility to do right by the bookstore; why having a piece of my father mattered to me.
Still, I couldn’t help but to argue, “He knew I was his daughter for years and never spoke a word to me. All of this might not make up for the time we lost, but he wanted me to have it. That means something to me. So sorry it upsets you.”
“Oh, you have no idea. Did you ever stop to consider the age difference between you and Archie? You’re a year apart. A year .
“He’d already started something with me before he flounced off to New York for a summer abroad. I had no idea, for the whole of our marriage, how close I’d come to having a completely different life. It wasn’t until he died that he was brave enough to tell me the truth.
“Leaving his precious bookstore to his love child rather than either of his legitimate children—it’s ridiculous.”
My mind whirled at this revelation. I didn’t know what to make of it. Of course, I knew how close in age Archie and I were, but I’d never thought much of it. My brother had called me a love child the day we met. Now, I wondered if he knew, or if he was just spouting off in his anger.
Glancing at Eloise, I didn’t register shock— but I didn’t get the chance to ask.
“What was your plan, here?” Rory interjected. “You were rummaging about when I got here. What were you looking for?”
Juliet folded her arms across her chest and raised her nose defiantly.
“The police are on their way,” I said. “If you don’t tell us, you’ll have to tell them.”
Cutting her eyes at me, she admitted, “I was looking for the deed to the building.”
For a moment, I didn’t know what to say, not having expected that answer.
“Well, you’re wasting your time,” I murmured. “It’s not here. Mr. Johnson suggested I keep it someplace more secure. You’ll never get it, so I suggest you stop trying.”
I heard footsteps in the stairwell and realized the police had arrived. Yet, as they drew closer, the thought of watching the two of them get arrested didn’t sit right with my conscience. What they’d done was wrong, but why they’d done it didn’t have anything to do with me. Not really. They were upset with the other Sawyer—only, he wasn’t around to be the recipient of their anger and grief.
“Give me the key,” I demanded, taking a step toward Juliet, my palm open and extended. “Give me the key, and I won’t press charges. We’ll chalk it up to a misunderstanding, and you and I will never speak to each other again.”
Juliet looked from me, to Rory, and to the open doorway before returning her calculated gaze back on me. She then sighed, reached into the hidden pocket of her skirt, and extracted the key.
“I mean it,” I whispered as I closed my fingers around it. “I hope we never see each other again.” Then, mere seconds before we were interrupted, I looked to Eloise and murmured, “You have no idea how lucky you are to have grown up with a father who loved you. Whatever this was for you—it won’t bring him back. Neither does my being here diminish how much you meant to him. Maybe one day you’ll see that.”
I couldn’t say for sure, but a look that might have read contrite changed the expression on her face. It was there one second and gone in the blink of an eye, just as a knock sounded at the door.