Chapter 23
Fog lifting after a two-week absence
I drag my feet into the alleyway.
Another Saturday night on my own—
No.
I stagger to a stop. My jaw sags, but I quickly snap it shut.
Sawyer sits on the bottom step leading up to my apartment. His shoulders are hunched, and his gaze is fixed on a random brick on the wall that runs behind the post office. A box wrapped in brown paper fills up the rest of the wooden tread beside him.
Relief wobbles in my knees.
He’s finally home.
God, I’ve missed tagging along beside him. I tried people-watching at the pub without him last night. Nothing was the same. Even Bruiser bringing me a complimentary bottle of wine with a whispered “Good work standing up to that bitch” only dragged a small smile out of me.
Sawyer missed it all. I want to tell him about it, about everything, but…
Don’t cry.
His head turns, but he only glances at my Mary Janes before he pushes off the stairs. No eye contact. No hello. He shoves his hand in his pocket.
“I guess Cain fixed the stairs,” he says.
“He didn’t have much else to do after you ran away.”
“Elsie, about that…” When he looks up, his hazel eyes swim with tears.
A lump lodges in my throat. Seeing this big, rugged man overcome with emotion is too much. None of my rehearsals anticipated this. I prepared for a fight. Yelling, even. I never imagined him standing there looking at me as if his soul were crushed.
“Let’s not do this here.” My voice cracks, but I hold myself steady with a deep breath. “We can talk upstairs.”
His eyes widen. He wasn’t expecting an invitation, but he nods and steps aside for me to lead the way. At the top of the stairs, I unlock the front door and gesture for him to go in first.
“What the…” Sawyer jolts to a stop. “Cain built you a new kitchen?”
“He also installed a new shower and redid all the tiling in the bathroom.” My voice lowers when I sling my bag over the hook. “You disappeared for nearly two weeks.”
Sawyer’s head hangs low. “I couldn’t face you. The way I acted…”
“You could have just talked to me. That night. The next morning, when you cooled off.”
“That night threw a lot of truth at me I wasn’t ready for. I was expectin’ the worst, and I still wasn’t ready.”
He follows me into the kitchen, but I don’t offer to put on the coffee machine. I don’t know the etiquette for entertaining a man who disappeared from my life. I have only questions.
“Where did you go?” I ask.
He lifts a shoulder. “I stayed with my folks in Devonport for a couple of nights. Then I drove down to Hobart and spent some time with my brother and his boys.” He sighs. “It was easier than…”
“Acting like a grown man and talking to me?”
He nods, but his eyes stay on his boots. “I got you somethin’.” He holds out the brown paper package.
I fold my arms tight across my chest. Men and gifts. Why doesn’t he just apologize? I wrote out a set of palm cards of things to say to him, and he can’t even offer me an “I’m sorry for not calling” to start us off.
“Elsie, please.”
Sighing reluctantly, I accept the package from his outstretched hand. I flick off a piece of sticky tape and then slide a suspicious look at him from the corner of my eye. What’s in here? It better be damn good. It’s not the right shape to be a book. Tea. Fancy tea.
“I had a lot of time to think,” Sawyer says. “About why the hell I thought I had any right chasin’ after you.”
My mouth presses into a line. He’s off to a terrible start.
“You were married, Elsie. I didn’t care about that.
I still don’t. If some other man was stupid enough to let you slip through his fingers, well…
that’s his damn loss.” He blows out a slow breath.
“But I can’t pretend you weren’t married to some fuckin’ hotshot tech guy.
A goddamn millionaire ten times over. Then, you’ve got the chef in your bed.
I’ve always known I wasn’t good enough—”
“Stop right there.”
“Elsie, you know the type of man I am.”
“Yes. I do.”
“I’m as dumb as a box of rocks. I don’t read many books—”
“And I don’t play guitar like you do. What’s your point?”
“I can’t give you the kind of life those men can.”
“Good. There’s a reason I got a divorce, you know.”
“Come on—”
“No. You come on. Didn’t you make the same choice I did? How did it feel when everyone told you that you were crazy because you wanted something more out of life than just money?”
“Money is important.”
“Yeah. A girl needs to eat, and I’ve got expensive taste in tea. You got some tea in here?” I flick another piece of tape off the brown paper.
He shakes his head.
“Last I checked, you have a pretty great boat, and I’ve got a job,” I say. “Not the best paying job in the world, but I think we’ll get by.”
“I want you to have more than that.”
“Me too. I want a partner who loves me and enjoys spending time with me. We can make more money if we need it. But love…genuine love…it’s so much harder to find, Sawyer. Maybe not for you because everyone likes you, but for me…”
I take a deep breath. I will not cry.
He steps closer. “This. Here.” His fingertips skim the brown paper. “This is what I can give you.”
I tear off the paper. “There better be something incredible in here because I’m so mad at y—” I clamp my hand over my mouth. My heart thumps so fast, and the tears I’ve desperately fought back dribble down my cheeks.
The sugar bowl.
He found me the missing sugar bowl for my set.
“S-Sawyer?”
His eyes plead with me because he’s still not sure if this is enough. “I wasn’t comin’ home without it. Almost bought a ticket to Melbourne until I found this one hidden on a back shelf at a place in the city.”
I want to tell him that the bowl is the most perfect gift anyone has ever given me. Not just the actual bowl. It’s the fact that he listened to me. He cares how much it means to me to complete my grandmother’s set after I broke it all those years ago.
I inch my hand away. “I…” Why can’t I just say the words? I rehearsed this! But the only sound that comes out of my mouth is a hiccup.
“Oh, baby, no.” He inches closer with his arms out wide. “Come here.”
Baby. He called me baby.
I hold up my hand. “Y-you sit right… right there.” I point to the dining chair. “I–I’ve got…a few things…I need to say to you, m-mister.”
He swallows hard. His eyes are swimming with so much emotion, but he does his best to hold my gaze as he sits down. He thinks this is goodbye.
Oh, he wishes.
Slowing my breathing down with long breaths in and out, I fumble for the stack of palm cards on the countertop. I tuck them into my hand and stand up tall.
Sawyer’s eyebrows furrow. “You did up palm cards?”
I shake the last of the nerves from my arms. “I originally practiced this speech thinking I’d have to shout it at you from the wharf.” I flick any tears off my cheek and clear my throat with a prim cough. “Cain said he’d tie you down to make you listen to me if he had to.”
“Did he now?”
“Yes.” I smile. “Okay. Here we go…” I take one final breath for luck.
“Since the day I met you, you’ve been teaching me how to be brave.
I’m not always good at it. But if there’s any time I’m going to start, it’s today.
” I glance up from the palm cards to ad lib the next part.
“Which, by the way, meant last week, but since you didn’t come home… ” I roll my eyes.
“I’m sorry I stayed away so long.”
“You should be. Now. Where was I?” I shuffle to the next palm card. “Oh. Yes.” I lift my chin. “I was married. I hid it from you because I didn’t want to remember myself. I loved my ex-husband. Past tense. See.” I flip the card around and point to the word.
Sawyer nods.
“By the time my divorce was finalized, I was relieved that I’d never have to see that man ever again for the rest of my life.
Our divorce wasn’t amicable. It was hell.
He forgot he once cared about me because all he cares about now is money and he made sure I didn’t get a single dollar even though I’d supported him every step of the way. ”
“Jesus. I’ve been a damn fool.”
“And I should have told you sooner.” I offer him a sad smile before I go back to my palm cards. “Sawyer, I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t tell you the truth because you’d see how flawed I was, that I was used up and—”
“Put those fuckin’ things down.”
Sawyer snatches the palm cards out of my hand and tosses them across the room. The cardboard flutters and floats until it lands like enormous snowflakes on the wooden floor.
“I want to hear it from you,” he says. “I want the words to come from here.” His index finger pokes me gently in the chest. “Forget everyone else. Luke. Your piece of shit ex-husband. I want to know how you feel about me.”
“Sawyer…”
“Tell me, Elsie. I know I was gone. If I hadn’t fucked off for two weeks, what would you have said to me that night if I asked you then? Were you fallin’ for me? Did I have a real chance with you?”
“I… I would have said…that…I can’t tell you I’m falling for you,” I whisper. “Because I’m already there.”
“Fuck, Elsie. Don’t play with me like this.”
“I think I already love you.”
His hands cradle my face. His eyes are searching mine in disbelief. “Yeah?”
I nod.
“Do you still?”
“I’m furious at you for not calling me. I was worried sick about you, but…” I bite down on my lip to stop from smiling. “Of course I still do.”
He answers by crashing his lips onto mine.
Oh, that deep, hungry kiss. He missed me. I can feel it in the urgent way his mouth moves with mine, insistent but gentle, asking me over and over if I really, truly forgive him.
“I love you.” His confession is breathless against my cheek. “Since the first day I saw you. I had no right to want you, Elsie. No right.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. Fuck. Me too.”
Our lips meet again. His hand slides under my cardigan, and his palm presses against my spine, coaxing me to melt into him. I don’t need any encouragement. I want him. All of him. The kisses are hot and long, and this time, I know he won’t pull away. No interruptions. He’s mine now.
“Come.” I slip from his arms and tug his hand.
His boots plant on the floor. “Elsie, I didn’t stop by expectin’ that from you.”
I glance at the spot below his belt. “I see.” That bulge jutting out tells a different story.
“Ignore that,” he grinds out.
“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.”
“You’re teasin’ me.”
“No. I’m being completely honest for once. Last chance.”
“Last chance, huh?” He scoops me up to straddle his hips. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’m not wastin’ it.”