12. Sawyer
SAWYER
Olivia:
No names, huh?
I lifted my head from my pillow and groaned when I saw the contact on my screen. Olivia wasn’t dumb. She’d probably connected the dots between Beckett and me before I ever drove out of Frank’s parking lot. Especially with the way I acted.
Great going, Sawyer. Way to make it super obvious who your baby daddy really is.
Me:
In my defense, I didn’t know his last name…
Me:
Until I stalked the internet and found a very grainy photo that led me down an inescapable rabbit hole.
Olivia:
I get the initial appeal. He’s certainly easy on the eyes.
God, he really was. It was infuriating that nearly six months hadn’t diminished his looks in the slightest. Beckett was just as gorgeous as he had been the first time he flashed me that tempting smile.
I wanted to hate him, but every time I tried, I saw the despondent look on his face in my rearview mirror and hated myself for putting it there.
Olivia:
He asked me to give you his contact information, btw
My stomach did a little flip as I thought about calling him. That didn’t seem like the type of conversation to have over the phone, but maybe I could make an exception this one time.
Me:
What’d you say?
Olivia:
That I’d pass it on, but wouldn’t make any promises about you reaching out. You deserve to make the decision on what happens next.
That was something I appreciated about Olivia. She was a girl’s girl first and foremost. There would be no pressure to make a decision before I was ready, or to push me into one that didn’t make sense for my situation.
The next image was of a cocktail napkin with Beckett’s name, number, and email written in a tidy scrawl.
How long had I thought about reaching out, only to eventually talk myself out of it?
It wasn’t rational, but I blamed it on the pregnancy hormones.
They’d only brought out my bitchier side as I grew more hangry and uncomfortable with each passing day.
Me:
Thank you so much. Do you need me to close tonight? I’m feeling a little bit better than I was this morning.
I was getting better at this whole lying thing because I most certainly did not feel better.
Though my current state of nausea had more to do with the prospect of having to tell Beckett I was not only pregnant, but that the baby was his.
Hitting him with a “Welcome back to Pinecrest, Beckett! You’re gonna be a dad!
” seemed like a one-way ticket to nowhere good.
Olivia:
No. Rest up. I have a feeling you’ll need it. See you tomorrow morning.
Olivia:
BTW, I took the liberty of overnighting you some clothes. They’ll be delivered in the morning.
I typed out a quick thanks before tossing my phone on the empty side of my bed and settling back against my pillows. My bedroom looked slightly better than it had this morning. Boxes were slightly more organized, and I’d begun going through some of the bags of baby clothes to sort them by size.
I was nowhere near ready to be a mom, but that was going to need to change.
I mean, I still had glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling from my freshman year.
They might not have worked as well as they once did, but looking at them made me smile.
They were a reminder not to take life too seriously.
A nod to a different, simpler time when I didn’t feel the need to be anything other than a girl who still dreamed.
Maybe I’d leave them up.
Beckett would probably take one look at this place and walk the other way. It was nothing like the marble staircases, gold accents, and private staff I’m sure he was used to. But my home was filled with priceless memories he couldn’t possibly understand or appreciate.
There were height markers on the bathroom door from not only my childhood, but my mom’s, too.
The threadbare rug beneath our dining room table was put there before I was born to cover a charred spot in the carpet my mother made when she was trying to cook Grams a Mother’s Day breakfast. My favorite was the tire swing that was falling apart in the backyard.
The one I spent my summers on, pretending I could fly.
Ugh. It had seemed like such a great idea at the time to sleep with someone who was the exact opposite of every person I grew up with, but now I had regrets. Whether there was any real weight to them or not was still to be seen, but the prospect of telling Beckett the truth was terrifying.
Would he believe me if I told him? If the roles were reversed, I wasn’t sure if I would.
It seemed far too coincidental. I mean, what virgin’s luck is so bad that she gets pregnant the first time she has sex and it’s with a hot billionaire?
That seemed more like the plot line for a book than real life.
I had nothing to hide. If he asked for a paternity test, I’d do it. Maybe that would put his mind at ease and show him I’m not some big, fat liar.
Stop it, Sawyer. You’re putting words in his mouth and going off on tirades about things that haven’t even happened yet. You just need to talk to him.
I wanted to talk to Beckett. Really, I did. When I walked in this afternoon, and I heard his voice for the first time, I wanted to run into his arms and cry. He was here. He came for me. To comfort me.
But then I remembered he didn’t know. There was no text message or email sent. No phone call. Nothing. Beckett Montgomery was blissfully unaware that I was carrying his child, and I was left with a secret that was eating me alive.
I rolled over and stared at my phone. Olivia’s text thread was still on the screen, and so was Beckett’s phone number. I should text him at least. Apologize for running out so quickly without explanation. If I did, it could open the doorway for communication about other things.
Like, for instance, a pregnancy announcement.
I copied his phone number and started a new text thread, staring down at the blinking cursor in the message field.
Oh god. What should I say?
Hey, Beckett. How do you feel about kids?
Sorry for running out on you like a total idiot earlier. LOL. Nature calls.
Please don’t sue if my tires slung any rocks your way. I’m poor.
I typed and deleted about a million things before settling on a simple greeting.
Me:
Hi
There. It was done. The ball was in his court now. All that was left for me to do now was to sit and wait.
The phone buzzed in my hand, and I panicked, instantly tossing the thing across the room.
What was I thinking? I couldn’t do this.
I couldn’t text him. I needed to stay far, far away from Beckett Montgomery and his ridiculously charming smile so I could focus on the pregnancy rather than the stupid bugs fluttering around in my belly.
Especially since said bugs were back in swarms.
Unfortunately for him and me, patience wasn’t my strong suit. I crawled across my bed and reached for my phone, seeing his phone number on my notifications.
Unknown:
I’m sorry. Who is this?
Glancing up at my message, I groaned. Why the hell hadn’t I included my name?
Me:
It’s Sawyer. Olivia gave me your number. Said you wanted her to pass it along. Figured the least I could do was apologize for running out of there so quickly. So, I’m sorry.
It was a little long, but it got the point across. Now, there was no need to feel guilty. I texted, apologized, and that was it. There was nothing else I needed to say at the moment that would—
Just then, my phone lit up with a phone call.
It was Beckett. He was calling me. “Shit,” I cursed, staring down at the screen.
Panicking, I immediately declined the call.
I wasn’t ready to talk to them. Besides, who the hell spoke on the phone these days?
Why couldn’t he just text like a normal person?
When it rang again, I did the same thing. Contacting him was clearly a horrible idea. I’d opened a can of worms unintentionally.
Beckett:
Answer the phone, Sawyer.
Me:
Why? We have nothing to talk about.
How horrible would I be if I just crossed my fingers and hoped he never found out about the pregnancy? If he was just passing through, there was no need to say anything. I could move on with my life like I’d planned all along.
Beckett:
I think we do.
Shit.
Fuck.
Goddammit.
Dread settled in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe that was the nausea stirring once again. Surely Olivia hadn’t told him about the pregnancy. She didn’t know he was the father.
The phone vibrated in my hand, and I closed my eyes. Hello, consequences of my actions.
With a swipe of my finger, I brought my phone up to my ear and breathed a shaky, “Hello?”
“God, it’s good to hear your voice,” Beckett said wistfully. I could hear his smile. He seemed to relax the moment I answered, sending a wave of guilt crashing over me. “I was worried you were going to avoid me.”
“Avoid you? Why would I do that?” I asked, settling back into my pillows.
His chuckle skated along my skin. Goosebumps cropped up in its wake. “That’s a great question. One I’ve been trying to find an answer to since I got a mouthful of gravel earlier.”
That really wasn’t my finest moment, but in my defense… He shouldn’t have run after me. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have been standing so close to the back of my car. That’ll teach you not to run after women who are clearly trying to get away from you.”
Beckett’s laughter was smooth and sexy. As much as I wanted to lose myself in it, I refused to be dickmatized—again—by this walking, talking sex god. “You’re right. Any tips or tricks to stop someone running away from me?”
“Buddy, if you need tips and tricks, I don’t know how to help you,” I murmured, trying to stay focused on the fact that I should not be falling for this man’s charm.
It was harder than it should be, though.
He looked good at the bar. Far better than I had in my embarrassing neon sweatpants and blotchy face.
“You know, I really enjoyed the sweet side of you that I met six months ago, but I think I love it when you’re mean to me more,” he said. I could hear the smile in his tone.