EPILOGUE
Sawyer
Three Months Later
Behind the glass, Leon was shaking his head at me, but at least he no longer slammed it in the door after one of my shows. It was progress.
Was I still capable of ruining someone’s night?
Absolutely—I mean, I was a professional.
But there was something to be said for personal growth and emotional stability, blah blah blah…
not to mention a boyfriend who showed up to the studio with my coffee order exactly right, looking so insanely hot that I had to wipe a little drool off the corner of my mouth.
He was standing beside Leon holding two coffees and wearing dark jeans and a fitted charcoal Columbia Athletics quarter-zip, his blond hair a little mussed from the freezing weather outside, his cheeks still pink.
My man. My real, no-payment, no-fake-role, actual boyfriend.
Who made me wanna throw him up against a wall and have my way with him between commercial breaks.
“So tonight,” I said, trying not to get distracted, “we’re talking about what happens after heartbreak. Give me a call, we’ll yap, I’ll play you a song, you’re welcome.”
The call board was already blinking full, and I hit the button for the first one.
“Hi, Sawyer.”
“Hello there, mystery caller. What’s your name and how fragile are you feeling on a scale of one to ten?”
She laughed. “I’m Maya and…maybe an eight?”
“Oof. Rough number. What’s goin’ on?”
“So my boyfriend dumped me four months ago.”
“Already hate him.”
“You don’t even know what happened.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m loyal to callers first, facts second. Continue.”
That got another chuckle out of her, and I leaned back in my chair, my gaze drifting to Beckett as he stepped into the studio and set my coffee carefully on my desk.
He didn’t interrupt or make a big show of it, just placed the cup within reach, his fingers brushing mine as he did.
When I glanced up, he leaned close enough that only I could hear him.
“Extra shot,” he said.
I covered the mic with one hand. “Marry me.”
He grinned. “Ask me when you’re not on air,” he said, winking as he walked away to sit in the corner like he hadn’t just short-circuited my brain.
Ugh, the man was perfect.
Well, almost perfect, but that was more on me than him. Basketball was to me like horseback riding was to Beckett. I did know a couple of new things now, though, like how traveling was bad unless you were actually on a trip somewhere, and apparently a double dribble was not a coffee order.
Sports were weird.
Maya sighed in my ear. “My ex is already seeing someone else, and I keep thinking that means what we had didn’t matter.”
Oh yeah. That one I knew.
I curled my hand around the coffee cup as Beckett’s eyes found mine from across the room, steady and knowing. There was no longer an ache in the place Peter used to occupy. It wasn’t painful anymore. Just a memory.
“I get that,” I said to Maya, my voice less teasing now. “It’s hard when someone moves on so fast. Was the relationship real? Were you the only one who felt it?”
“Exactly.”
“Someone else’s timeline isn’t proof of your worth. Feels like it right now, I’m sure, but sometimes people move on fast because they’re healed or because they’re avoiding something within themselves. Hell, sometimes they’re just selfish jerkoffs who—”
Leon hit the bleep button, clearly anticipating more fuckery out of me.
“Hey, I actually behaved that time,” I said, but he only shook his head, while Beckett sat in the corner covering his mouth and trying not to laugh.
“Anyway,” I continued, “I promise I’m not going to get all annoyingly inspirational on you, but sometimes the worst breakup of your life really does make room for the best person you ever met.”
Beckett’s eyes lifted, locking with mine. That look always made the world go quiet, where it was just the two of us and nothing else mattered.
“Sometimes,” I added, “the thing that feels like the ending is really just the part where the story finally stops being about the person who left and starts being about who you get to become without them. And if you’re really lucky, maybe someone shows up, someone who sees the mess and stays anyway. ”
“Did that happen to you?” Maya asked.
I couldn’t help my smile as I looked at Beckett. “Yeah. It did.”
Maya let out a breath. “That helps.”
“Does it?”
“Yeah, but…any advice on where to find someone like that?”
“You know what? Yes, actually.” I waggled my brows at my boyfriend. “I’ve heard hotel lounges are a fantastic spot for meeting gorgeous, available men. Maybe stop by one after work and grab a drink. And a date.”
“You’re the best, Sawyer.”
“Yes, I am. Now do me a favor. Do not text your ex tonight.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t going to.”
“Maya, don’t lie to your good friend Sawyer.”
“Okay, fine, I was thinking about it.”
“That’s what I thought. I could hear the bad decision forming, so block the scumbag’s number, put on something that makes you feel hot, and feel free to dance around your place to this next song.
” I ended the call and cued the next song.
“This one goes out to Maya, who will not be texting her ex tonight because she is wise and under my supervision.”
Then I hit go on a song from the “I’m a baddie” playlist I’d made months ago and leaned back in my chair as Beckett came over.
“That was good.”
“What can I say? I’ve evolved past emotional train wreck. Helping others is the least I can do.”
He smirked and braced a hand on the back of my chair, leaning down close enough that I could smell the faint scent of his cologne after a long day, and the coffee on his breath. “I liked what you said.”
“Oh yeah? Which part?”
“The part about someone seeing the mess and staying anyway.”
My stomach did that flip-flop thing. Still. Even after three months of real dates and real conversations and learning each other without any half-truths, he could still knock me off balance with one sentence.
“Yeah, well.” I reached up and tugged on the zipper of his sweater. “Turns out I have a type.”
“Men who stay?”
“Uh, hot men who stay. Let’s not pretend looks aren’t involved.”
He chuckled against my lips as he stole a kiss. I’d been waiting for that all day.
Leon cleared his throat loudly through the speaker. “You two know I can see you, right?”
“Then maybe close your eyes. I’ve got one more minute.”
“Not anymore you don’t. Line three’s up next and says it’s a romance emergency.”
“Sounds kinky.” Curious as to what that meant, though, I pointed at Beckett as he retreated to his chair. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I grinned and watched the seconds counting down as the song came to an end and Leon put the caller through.
A man’s voice came on, far too excited. “Sawyer, huge fan. Your stuff’s way less depressing now.”
“Thank you? I think?”
“Is your brother really Rome Montgomery?”
Oh boy. Here we go. Emergency romance situation, my ass.
“Yes,” I said. “I do claim him as my younger brother occasionally.”
“Oh—bleep—.” Leon was quick with it tonight. “Can you set me up with him?”
“No.”
“But—”
“Still no.”
“I’m hotter than the last guy he went out with.”
“I’m sure you’re a gift to cheekbones everywhere, but my brother isn’t a raffle prize. Though the next time he pisses me off, I may change my mind.”
“I could be good for him—”
“Famous last words from someone who hasn’t met Rome before brunch, trust me.”
Beckett’s shoulders were shaking, his fist over his mouth. He knew I wasn’t lying but was enjoying this too much anyway.
“How about I just give you my number and he can decide?” the caller said, persistent little minx.
“Listen, I admire the fact that you’re going for what you want, so kudos to you for that, but no amount of begging will work on me.
And for future reference to everyone else out there, this show isn’t called How to Date My Brother, so don’t get any ideas.
I mean, that is a pretty kickass show concept, but it’s not gonna happen. ”
The caller groaned. “It was worth a shot.”
“A respectable shot. Now off with you, back into the night with all that confidence and zero access to my family tree.”
After he hung up, I started up the next song and looked at Beckett. “See, that’s why I don’t mention Rome on air.”
“Not keen on having any future brothers-in-law soon?”
“Can you imagine? Someone tying Rome down? Yeah, right.”
The hour flew by with calls and music, my stealing a kiss from Beckett between breaks—and then moving his chair closer to mine—and counting down the minutes until we could go home.
Well…his place or mine. We hadn’t moved in together yet, but we spent almost every night together, trading off spaces depending on our schedules.
During the final segment, I took one more caller, a woman named Tessa who had been with her boyfriend for six months and was too terrified to say “I love you” first, because what if he didn’t say it back?
I was smiling before I could stop myself, my fingers lacing with Beckett’s where he sat quietly beside me.
“I’m gonna tell you a story, Tessa,” I said.
“The first time I told my boyfriend I loved him, it was not planned at all. In my head I’d been thinking there needed to be candles or fireworks, some big romantic gesture.
But it happened when he was making coffee in my kitchen wearing sweatpants and reading some basketball report on his phone. ”
Beckett squeezed my fingers, and I kept my eyes on him as I continued.
“I looked at him and I realized I was standing there trying to make a joke because the feeling was so overwhelming and the words felt too big and I was scared that if I said them, it would change things. But then I realized that was already true. Everything had already changed for me because I loved him, and saying it just let him know.”
“What did he say?” Tessa asked.
Beckett brought our joined hands up to his mouth and kissed my fingertips.
“He said it back,” I told her.
“Immediately,” Beckett whispered, and I grinned.
“So if you love him,” I said, “and the words are starting to feel like they’re taking up too much room inside you, maybe that’s your answer. Not because you’re guaranteed anything back, but because love deserves the truth too.”
After Tessa hung up, it was time for the wrap-up, and I leaned toward the mic one last time.
“That’s our show for tonight, New York. Remember my wise words: don’t text your ex, don’t try to date my brother through a radio show, and if someone makes you coffee exactly the way you like it, maybe pay attention. Sometimes that’s where the good stuff starts.”
Beckett stood as I cued up the final song, leaving it to Leon and the next host to take over.
As I gathered my things, I realized how different the studio felt now than it had months ago.
It was the same board, the same mic, the same city buzzing outside these four walls.
But I wasn’t the same man sitting behind it.
I’d been more than a little heartsmashed, no getting around that.
But it hadn’t stayed that way. Beckett was proof of that.
I finished off the coffee he’d brought me and tossed it in the trash before taking his hand. “You know you’ve really set the bar high with this coffee thing, right?”
“I’m aware.”
“Just checking, ’cause if you ever brought me the wrong order, I’d assume you’ve stopped loving me.”
His hand came up to cup my neck, and then his mouth brushed over mine. “I’ll never take that risk.”
Before I could sink into his kiss, Leon made a dramatic gagging sound and banged on the glass.
Beckett laughed under his breath, then hooked his fingers through the loop of my bag and took it from me.
Not because he thought I couldn’t carry it, but because he understood me well enough to know I’d forget it on the chair while arguing with Leon about the show, and he wanted to save me the trouble.
That was the thing about being loved by Beckett Calder.
It was in the big stuff, sure, but it was in the small stuff too.
Extra shots in my coffee, my bag over his shoulder, the way his hand found the small of my back as we walked out of the studio to the elevators.
Beckett was a master at the small stuff.
“You really meant what you said?” he asked, hitting the down button.
“About my brother being undatable?”
“About the good stuff starting with coffee.”
I turned to face him, stepping in close. His eyes roved over me, like he was still memorizing my face even after months.
“Yeah. I meant it,” I said. “And for the record, the good stuff started before the coffee.”
“Oh yeah?”
I wrapped my arms around him, still unable to believe I got to do that. That he was mine. “It started in a hotel lounge with a terrible misunderstanding and a man who looked at me like I was worth the trouble.”
He cradled my face, sweeping his thumb over my bottom lip. “You were. You are.”
“I know.” I grinned when he arched a brow. “Hey, I can accept compliments now, thank you very much.”
The elevator dinged, but neither of us moved right away. Instead, Beckett gazed into my eyes, those hypnotizing cobalt blue eyes I always got lost in, and said, “I love you, Sawyer Montgomery.”
And God. That still got me every single time.
I kissed him right there in the hallway, uncaring of the staffers roaming all around us. Hell, the world could be on fire and I wouldn’t care, not as long as I was wrapped up in Beckett’s arms. My favorite place in the whole world.
“I love you too,” I said against his mouth. “Even though you’re making me learn basketball.”
“You mean especially because I’m making you learn basketball.”
“You just wait; I’ll get you back when it gets warm enough to make a visit to Duchess.”
He laughed, the sound warm and familiar as we stepped into the elevator and Beckett pulled me into his side like that was where I belonged.
That was the best part. Somewhere between the heartbreak and the mess, between the wrong guy and the right one, I’d finally found someone who stayed. Someone who chose me. The man I chose right back.
As the elevator descended, Beckett wrapped his hand around mine again, steady and sure, and I wasn’t at all worried about what came next. I already knew the answer.
It was coffee in the morning. Basketball I still didn’t understand. A wild family who was there through thick and thin, and a beautiful man beside me who loved me exactly as I was.
And for once, the future didn’t feel like something waiting to fall apart.
It felt like something I couldn’t wait to run toward.