Chapter Four #2
Sawyer nodded, trying not to picture Amanda’s face, her big blue eyes. “No. I do not need that.” She chewed for a moment before adding, “And then I blocked her number.”
“Yeah? That’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you.
I know that was hard.” Courtney had a way of looking at her that made it feel like she could see right into her soul.
Maybe that was why she’d never lied to her little sister: She was afraid she’d know.
Immediately. This time, she simply gave a nod and moved on to the croissant.
“I’m proud of you, Tommy. You were so wrapped up in her for so long, and untethering is fucking hard. ”
“God, it so is.”
“And how’s the adorable new neighbor?” Courtney waggled her eyebrows and made Sawyer laugh.
“Honestly? I don’t think she likes me.”
“Well, that’s silly. She doesn’t know you.”
“True.” Sawyer thought about how cute Jenna had looked on her porch with her blanket and her book and her wine and her dog.
She also thought about the pull she’d felt, how she’d thought about what it would be like to sit next to her with their feet up on the railing, just sitting together in the fall breeze.
Yeah, that was weird.
“Give her time.” Courtney’s voice tugged her back to the present.
“Yeah. I will.” She took a sip of her latte, then said, “And how are you feeling?”
“Like I’m as big as a house.” Courtney shook her head and held out a hand. “I had to take my rings off. They were getting too tight. Look at these sausage fingers.”
“Stop it. You’re beautiful.”
Courtney snorted loudly. “Yeah. A beautiful house.” They both laughed and talked about a few other mundane things before Courtney asked, “And how are things ‘Between the Lines’?” She made fun air quotes. “Your followers keep increasing, I see. Super cool.”
Sawyer nodded as she chewed the last bite of her sandwich. “It’s definitely doing well. I got about a dozen review requests in my inbox, so I’ve got some reading to do. I’m behind on about three reviews, so I need to get those done and posted.”
“And what was with that slam of the romance shop?” Courtney popped a crumb from the empty plate into her mouth. “Not your usual genre.”
Sawyer chuckled. “Yeah, I got some shit for that, too.”
“I saw.” Courtney arched an eyebrow at her.
“What, you’re gonna side with them? Come on, Court. You know those books are lame and unrealistic. How many women get swept off their feet by the local hockey player they dated when they were fourteen? Or the firefighter who shows up during a call? Please.” She gave a scoff.
“Clearly, you don’t watch the Hallmark Channel.”
“Couldn’t pay me enough.”
“What’s your beef with romance?” Courtney tipped her head, studied her, and Sawyer didn’t like it, didn’t like the way she narrowed her eyes, as if she was searching for something in Sawyer’s head.
“I just told you. It’s silly and unrealistic.”
“I think it has to do with Amanda.”
Sawyer feigned a gasp. “How dare you mention that name?” Trying to play it off as a joke. That was her angle. It didn’t work on Courtney, though.
“I’m serious. I think she’s soured you on it.”
For about two and a half seconds, Sawyer thought about battling the point but ended up simply sighing instead. “Maybe. Maybe she has. I don’t know.”
“All I’ll say is don’t let her. Okay? She’s certainly not powerful enough to destroy all the beauty of a good romance story.” Courtney reached across the table and grabbed Sawyer’s arm. “And you, my big sister, are so worth loving.”
Tears unexpectedly sprang into her eyes, and she had to blink them away as she gazed off into the rest of the café.
“Stop that. I’m not saying that to make you cry. I’m saying it because it’s the truth and I don’t want you to forget it. Okay?” Courtney waited until Sawyer returned her gaze, then asked again, softer, “Okay?”
“Okay.” Sawyer cleared her throat. “Thanks, Court.”
“Any time. As compensation, you can go get me another scone.”
Sawyer laughed. “You got it.”
An hour later, she was back home and getting ready to slide into her bed and read the latest thriller she’d been sent, the author requesting a review.
She washed her face, brushed her teeth, slipped into shorts and a tank top, and slid under the covers of her bed, e-reader in hand, notebook and pen nearby so she could jot down things she observed as she read.
She was just about to open the book when her gaze landed on the painting across the room.
She hadn’t hung it, so it sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.
A peaceful landscape, a small pond with tall trees, a doe and a fawn helping themselves to a drink, the sun high in the sky and shining down on them.
It was warm and calming, and a gift from Amanda.
They’d been in bed one night, on Amanda’s laptop, shopping for decorations for her new office.
She’d scrolled to this painting, and Sawyer had loved it immediately.
A week later, it had been delivered to her place, one of the few romantic things Amanda had ever done.
It had hung in Sawyer’s bedroom for nearly six years.
She stared at it now. She still loved it, but not where it came from, what it represented.
With a groan, she tossed off the covers, padded across the room to the painting, and picked it up.
She carried it through the house in the dark, the streetlights outside her only source of light.
Down the stairs, along the hallway and into the kitchen.
She opened the basement door, clicked on the light, and descended the stairs.
It wasn’t until she’d set the painting in the corner next to some boxes that she registered the sound of an appliance.
When she turned to the source, there stood Jenna Murphy, standing under a very dim light bulb she hadn’t even noticed, empty laundry basket in hand.
“Jesus,” she exclaimed, hand on her heart, and gave an uncertain laugh. “You startled me. I didn’t realize you were down here.”
“Yup.” She stood there for a moment in her pajamas while Jenna’s eyes roamed over her. Then Jenna cleared her throat and added unnecessarily, “Just doing some nighttime laundry.”
Sawyer nodded. Jenna was still in her joggers and hoodie, as she’d been on the porch earlier, and she wasn’t sure if it was the later hour or what, but she looked…softer somehow. Even more casual and more comfortable. Sawyer rubbed her arms with her hands. “Chilly down here.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Okay, um,” Sawyer jerked a thumb over her shoulder, “I guess I’ll see you. Good night.”
“ ’Night.”
Back in her bed, Sawyer shook her head. What was it about Jenna Murphy that both intrigued and infuriated her?
She couldn’t figure it out. She picked up her e-reader again and clicked it on.
Spread out over her was her pristine white duvet, the bumps of her legs the only things interrupting the flow.
Her thoughts turned to Jenna in her own bed, Arnold curled up next to her.
She was pretty sure she’d seen a cat in the window at some point, so her brain put a cat on Jenna’s other side.
It was a snug little picture, cozy and warm, and she found herself irrationally envious.
Sawyer had no pets because Amanda was allergic.
“Maybe it’s time for a cat,” she said out loud, the second time she’d thought it. “Maybe.”