Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
Lainey
“I know it’s probably nothing,” I say softly, the sound of Ollie’s dog show echoing through the air. “I just—” I press my hand to my belly as nerves twist and twine through it.
“We’ll check it out, regardless,” Detective Roberts says, leaning forward to take my hand. She squeezes lightly. “In the meantime, I’d invest in some cameras and make sure you keep your doors and windows locked at all times.”
Worry knots my stomach. “Cameras?”
“I already ordered some,” Sawyer says, and I jump slightly, not realizing he’s come back into the kitchen. “Sorry,” he murmurs, running his fingers over my hip. “They’ll be here tomorrow. I’ll get them installed.”
The detective pockets her notebook and pen. “I’d advise they come with monitoring.”
“Noted,” Sawyer says. “I’ll take care of it. Are you following up on the guy from the bookstore?”
“Yes, though I can’t give you more details than that, considering this is all an ongoing investigation. In the interim”—she looks at me—“I’d like you to take some time and try to think if you knew the man from the bookstore and if there are any fans who may have…”
“Oh, no,” I say. “It’s not like that. Faye’s the one with the huge fan base. I’m just a little fish in a big pond.”
“Faye is her friend and next-door neighbor,” Sawyer chimes in when the detective frowns.
“Right. Sorry. Yes, Faye’s an author too, and she has a lot more followers than I do. My fans are…well, they’re not like that.”
The detective studies me for a moment. “Take a look, anyway,” she says.
“Or maybe talk with your team, see if they’ve filtered anything out that’s odd or threatening.
I’m not saying it’s definitely that,” she adds, probably because I’ve opened my mouth to protest. “Just cross your T’s and dot your i’s, yeah? ”
I shove down my objection—because she’s right, because it makes sense to be prudent, even if it feels ridiculous. “Okay. I’ll do that,” I tell her. “Thank you.”
“You have my card?” she asks.
I nod, shake her hand.
And then I’m walking her to the front door.
“You okay?” Sawyer asks when I lock it and turn back for the house.
“Yes, of course I am,” I say, brushing by him.
His expression changes, shifts into something that’s very much like hurt, and I shove down the blip of guilt in me. I need to make a list, need to get in touch with my agent, my publicist, my assistant. I need—
“Mom!”
I need to make sure Ollie is okay. “What’s up, peanut?”
“Can I watch another episode?”
Normally, the two he’s binged through would have been his limit, and he knows it.
But I need a little more time.
“Sure, bubba,” I tell him, ruffling his hair and then going down the hall to my office.
Sawyer follows me and I grit my teeth together as annoyance creeps like fingers down my spine.
It’s not fair. I know it’s not. I chose to let him sleep this afternoon when I went to get Ollie.
And he’s certainly not responsible for the weird stuff with the wineglass and the marriage license. It’s just…
I close my eyes, blow out a breath.
It’s just that this is all suddenly feeling real and big and scary and—
Click.
I look up to see that Sawyer has closed the door.
He leans back against it, crosses his arms. “Talk to me, Pages.”
“I have a lot to do,” I mutter instead of doing that. “I need to contact my team and go through my emails and messages. And I need to get those cameras sorted—”
“I told you I’d do that.”
I ignore him, shift through the disaster that’s my desk in search of an empty pad of sticky notes. “I need to get them sorted and send those emails and I have a book I need to be writing and Ollie needs dinner and we need to practice his songs for the winter concert next week and—”
His hand comes in front of my face and then he pulls out a fresh pad. Then he’s handing me the pen.
“No,” he says.
I freeze mid-reach for the pen. “What do you mean, no?”
“That’s not what’s running through that gorgeous mind of yours.” He touches my cheek. “You’re scared, Pages.”
“Of course I’m scared!” I toss the pad aside. “I might have a stalker or a crazed fan or maybe I’m completely delusional and making shit up because…” I throw my hands up. “Because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
I groan, dropping my face into my hands.
“Yeah, Pages,” he says quietly. “You’re doing a bang-up job of convincing me you’re fine.”
My head shoots up and I glare at him.
He brushes the backs of his knuckles along my throat. “You’re scared and you’re upset. I should have set an alarm and made sure I was up in time with you to get Ollie.”
“What? No. I let you sleep on purpose. You had a long road trip. You needed the rest.” I shake my head. “And anyway, he’s my kid, Sawyer. It’s not your responsibility to make sure he gets picked up from school on time.”
“Maybe not. But I’m in this relationship with you. And Ollie comes as a package deal.”
My heart thuds hard against my ribs.
Then again when he adds, “And I love the kid, Pages. I want to be there for the big and the small stuff.” He steps closer, nudging me back from the desk, turning me and taking me into his arms. “I know you had to do this alone for far too long, I know that Ben wasn’t…”
I hold my breath, hating I want him to rag on Ben…and prepared to hate him if he does.
“I know you carried far too much weight by yourself for far too long.” He pushes back my curls.
“And I know how terrifying it can be to let someone else help you carry it. But I’m here, and I’m going to be taking some of that weight—even if I have to lock you in your bedroom and orgasm you into oblivion to make that happen. ”
My eyes well up.
And he notices—of course he notices—his face going so gentle it almost hurts to look at.
“You already did that,” I whisper, going for light.
And failing.
Probably because a tear slides down my cheek.
He wipes it off, cups the back of my head. “And I’ll do it again,” he says just as lightly before he kisses the top of my head and tightens his hold. “I’m here, sweetheart.”
Maybe I should tell him I’m fine again, should pull away.
But he’d just see right through that.
And he’d just tug me close again.
Or maybe it’s that I want to stay exactly where I am.
Because my body melts against his…and the admission just melts out of me.
“I’m scared,” I whisper again.
“I know, he whispers back, his arms tightening. “But together, remember?”
I remember.
But what if together doesn’t last?