24. Sawyer
Sawyer
Wednesday morning dragged in that slow, sticky way some days did, where time moved like molasses and every sound in the shop felt too loud. The air was already warm from the torches, and even the music I usually blasted felt off.
By mid-morning, I had burned my wrist on a careless weld and snapped at Benji over a tape measure neither of us could find.
It wasn’t about the tape measure.
I hadn’t seen Addison since Sunday morning, before bridal plans and work swallowed her whole. She was wrapped up in her polished world again, and I was stuck on the outside trying not to want more than she could give me yet.
Our texts had come in short bursts between obligations. A heart emoji here. A thinking about you there. We had managed a quick FaceTime the night before, but it was interrupted twice. First by her assistant, then by a group text that apparently needed immediate approval on custom napkins.
I wiped my forearm across my forehead, pulled off my gloves, and took my phone from my back pocket.
Me: Any chance I can steal you for dinner tonight?
Me: Or even lunch? I miss your face.
Before I could overthink it, I sent another.
Me: I hate admitting that. Makes me feel soft. There goes all my street cred.
Her reply came before I could add something sarcastic to balance it out.
Addison: Lunch is impossible, but I might be able to come over tonight. I’ll call you when I get a break.
Addison: And I miss you too.
Addison: Not, going to lose your street cred for saying that. It’s hot.
A smile spread across my face before I could stop it, and the knot in my chest loosened as I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
“Okay,” Benji called from across the shop, lifting his face shield. “You better be texting my sister. If you’re making those goo-goo eyes at anyone else, I’m throwing down.”
I laughed and pulled my gloves back on. “It’s your sister. Relax.”
“Good. I was going to mess your face up if it wasn’t.” He laughed.
I adjusted the metal panel and tightened the clamp.
“I haven’t seen her since Sunday.” I said. “She’s busy. I miss her.”
“Yeah. Bridal stuff turns her into a machine. She overcommits.”
“I asked her to come over for dinner tonight. Figured I’d cook.”
His eyebrows lifted. “A real dinner?”
“Real dinner.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “Who are you?”
“Shut up,” I muttered, though I was smiling again.
* * *
By the time noon rolled around I was restless enough that the shop felt too small. I stepped outside and let the gravel crunch under my boots while I pulled my phone from my pocket again.
My phone buzzed before I even unlocked it.
Addison: I’ve got like ten minutes. Can you talk?
Me: Call me.
I answered before the second ring.
“Hey,” I said, pacing a few steps across the lot.
Her voice came through softer than usual.
“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m exhausted.”
“Oh, baby,” I murmured before I could stop myself, leaning against the side of the building while the sun warmed the back of my neck. “You sound it.”
“It’s been a week,” she admitted. “And it’s only Wednesday.”
I watched a delivery truck rumble past the end of the street while I spoke.
“Do you still want to go away this weekend?” I asked gently. “If it’s too much…”
“No,” she said immediately, cutting me off. “I want to go. I’m surviving this week for that. Don’t even think about canceling.”
“Never,” I said. “Just checking. I can’t wait. I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” she said softly. “A lot.”
The silence that followed was warm and easy, the kind that didn’t need filling.
Eventually, I pushed off the wall and glanced toward the shop door.
“So, dinner tonight?” I asked. “I’ll cook. Easy. Quiet. I’ll spoil you.”
“I won’t be free until around seven thirty,” she said. “But I really want to see you.”
“That works. I just want you here.”
As soon as we hung up, I ordered everything I needed to make spicy pho and had it delivered to my apartment.
By four thirty, my phone buzzed, pulling me away from my work.
Addison: Lord help me. I’m having such a bad day.
I replied from beside the welding table.
Me: Hang in there. I’m making you something spicy and soul-healing tonight.
The conversation went quiet again, but I knew she was busy.
At five oh three, my phone buzzed once more.
Addison: I’ll be at your house by 7:30. Promise. Coming straight from work. You have to take me as I am or not at all lol.
The tension beneath my ribs eased.
Me: Come as you are, baby. I’ll leave out soft clothes. You can shower while I finish cooking. Then couch, Buffy, and a foot rub.
Her reply came almost immediately.
Addison: You’re a goddess, and I’m absolutely smitten with you.
My chest felt so full it almost hurt. I hearted the message and set my phone facedown on the workbench.
The rest of the afternoon passed easier. I finished the last welds, cleaned my station, and helped Benji load a railing for delivery before we finally locked up.
By the time I got home, the grocery bags were waiting outside my door.
Cooking had always been the easy part. Omma taught me how to make pho when I was young, with me standing on a stool and my hair tied back with whatever elastic I could find.
Don’t rush the broth, she used to say while my mom chopped herbs beside us and hummed under her breath.
Food was how we loved.
How we said sit down.
How we said you’re safe.
Addison said she was recently obsessed with Pho. So I knew it was what I wanted to make for her. I wanted her to exhale the second she walked in.
My shower was quick and hot, then I pulled on soft sweats and a cropped tank without thinking, before tying on my apron and getting to work.
Cooking was instinct for me. Spices bloomed in the pot. Ginger and garlic followed. The broth simmered low while herbs waited in bright bowls beside the stove. The whole apartment filled slowly with warmth.
At seven ten, my phone lit up.
Addison: On my way.
A few minutes before she was due to arrive, I started the shower and set clean clothes on the bathroom counter.
At seven twenty-eight, footsteps sounded on the stairs. I opened the door to find Addison standing there, beautiful and exhausted, her shoulders sagging beneath her wrinkled blazer.
“Hi, beautiful.” I pulled her into a quick kiss and handed her a glass of wine. “Drink this. The shower’s running, soft clothes are waiting, and dinner is almost ready.”
She blinked at me like her tired brain needed a second to process it before melting into my arms. “You’re the best,” she whispered.
“Go.” I kissed her temple. “I’ve got you.”
When she came back out with her damp hair braided, wearing my sweatpants low on her hips and an old band tee, I nearly dropped the bowl in my hands.
“You look very… at home right now,” I said.
She lifted an eyebrow. “At home?”
I glanced at her standing in my kitchen like she had done it a hundred times. “Yeah. It’s a good look on you.”
Her expression softened. “I like it here.”
“Good. Sit.” I nodded to the couch.
I set a bowl of pho in front of her, steam curling from the broth.
Her eyes widened. “Is this spicy pho?”
“You said you were obsessed with it recently.” I shrugged.
“Baby!” She said taking a bite.
I watched her face carefully as the heat hit.
“Oh my God.” Her eyes closed, and she let out a quiet moan. “Sawyer, this is so good.”
“Comfort first, fire second.”
She took another spoonful before looking at me. “You made this because I had a bad day?”
“I wanted you to feel better.”
Her expression changed, softening in a way that made my chest ache.
“No one has ever done something like this for me.”
“It’s dinner, Sunshine.”
“It’s not just dinner.” She shook her head.
I reached across the table and brushed my thumb over her knuckles. “Then let me do it again sometime.”
We ate slowly, talking about her day between bites. By the time she finished, her shoulders had relaxed, and the exhaustion in her face had eased.
Later, curled beneath a blanket on the couch, her fingers slipped beneath my tank, and my hands followed, slow and careful.
She stopped me before things tipped further.
“I can’t tonight,” she whispered.
“I know.”
I kissed her like a promise instead of a question.
“I want to take my time with you,” I murmured. “When your not exhausted or rushed.”
“I’ll let you,” she whispered. “Soon.”
When she finally left later that night, the ache stayed with me.
So did the certainty. This weekend couldn’t come fast enough.
* * *