Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
The back door opens again and I shake myself out of my little freakout, turning back around just in time so that Sawyer’s none the wiser. In fact, it looks like I’ve stood here stoic as a statue while he’s schlepped back and forth from his truck.
“Don’t want to lift a pretty little finger?”
If only he knew how much work I’ve already done for this party… I don’t take the bait though. I shrug it off and examine my pretty little fingers like I’m bored by his presence.
There’s a small part of me that wants to explain everything to Sawyer right here and now, about Kendra’s mission, about the rumors he’s clearly heard. But I’m not ready to make peace. I’m still bitter about last night. I scrubbed my dress with OxiClean for thirty minutes, and even then, the mud stains didn’t budge. I ended up just throwing it away.
“So how are we going to play this today?” Sawyer asks once he’s finished setting down the sides and drinks. He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms.
I feign confusion. “Play what?”
“I obviously don’t want us to ruin Cruz’s birthday,” Sawyer replies drolly.
“I won’t be ruining anybody’s birthday.”
“Did Sawyer just get here?! I smell barbecue!” Lindsey shouts from down the hall. “Can y’all get the food ready?! People are going to start arriving soon!”
We have no choice but to work together on the task. I might not want to be in Sawyer’s vicinity, but I’m not going to be the one to call mercy. I curve around the kitchen island and stand beside him. Even with the delicious smell of barbecue, I catch a hint of his cologne. I take a microstep to the left, but I wasn’t inconspicuous enough. Sawyer notices and smiles triumphantly at me.
I start arranging the to-go containers on the counter, creating a buffet line for guests. Sawyer’s tearing into the plastic serving utensils, pairing them with the appropriate dish. We’re in each other’s way the entire time, but no one cedes any territory.
“For your information,” I hiss quietly, “you have it all wrong. The things you accused me of last night are totally off base.”
“I don’t really care to hear your explanation of things. I have a reliable source.”
“Oh yeah? Who?”
I want to know who the gossip is.
He doesn’t reply, and I’m forced to turn and wedge myself between him and the counter. This way, he can’t stick that spoon in the potato salad until he answers me.
“Who?” I prod with a finger to his chest.
He leans in, presumably so he can continue his job, but in the process, he crushes me against the counter. It’s not painful, but it’s a predatory claim all the same. He eclipses me, his body so much bigger than mine. Our eyes meet and hold. A fissure of desire overrides my annoyance, making it so my lips part and my sharp intake of breath is heard by the both of us. His eyes darken, but then he drops the spoon in the potato salad and pushes in, using me like a springboard before he turns and leaves without ever answering my question.
I hear him on the porch outside talking to David. They laugh, and I glower. This is going to be the longest birthday party of my life.
Fortunately, I have plenty to distract me. Once the food is set up and ready to go, I help Lindsey get Cruz dressed in his party clothes. Of course he has a Sesame Street t-shirt that coordinates with the banner we made for him. “It’s Cruz’s World!” it reads underneath a photo of him superimposed beside Elmo. Lindsey combs his hair back with a little pomade, and I know I’m biased, but he’s the cutest one-year-old I’ve ever seen. He looks like a miniature David but he has Lindsey’s big green eyes.
“May May,” he calls me, clapping his hands with glee when I tell him how handsome he is.
A few of the guests have already started to arrive once Cruz is ready to make his debut. I hold one of his hands and Lindsey holds the other, and the three of us walk out onto the porch so Cruz can get scooped up by Queenie then handed off to friends and family one after another. He giggles with all the attention and I’m smiling, enjoying myself for the temporary moment when I forget Sawyer is out here too. Cruz goes wild when it’s Sawyer’s turn to greet him, but then I would go wild too if someone threw me up into the air like that. Big whoop.
“Say-ya” is Cruz’s cute little name for him, and when he says it, everyone laughs.
It’s clear Sawyer and Cruz have quite the bond, even more so than Cruz and I do, but that’s because I’ve been living in Alabama. It’s hardly been a fair fight for Cruz’s love and affection. That changes today.