by Cari Quinn
“Thanks, but not me. I’ve got a cab.” Drew jerked a thumb at the street, and sure enough, a yellow cab pulled up to the curb. He backed up and grinned. “Y’all have a good night.”
“I’m just taking him home,” Layla said quickly.
“Sure. Enjoy.”
“Enjoy what? He’s completely toasted,” she muttered as Drew ambled off.
Proving he wasn’t nearly as incapacitated as she’d believed, Sawyer grabbed her hand and laid it against his groin. She let out a startled hiss. He hadn’t been lying about his ability to get a hard-on, drunk or not. That steel pike in his jeans had to ache more than his bloody cheek.
“Feel that? All you. First on the phone, that whispery voice stirring up my blood. All hesitant and innocent, until you suck off a guy and let me watch him paint you with his cum.”
Her throat tightened even while arousal flared in her belly. “He’s not just some guy. He’s the man I agreed to marry.”
“Right. Can’t forget that.” Sawyer’s eyes glittered in the near-darkness; then he stalked to the passenger side of her car. He climbed inside without another word.
She yanked open her door and inhaled a deep breath of cigarette-smoke-scented air. This should be fun.
Chapter Eleven
“I don’t need a nursemaid.”
“Good.” Layla stepped aside as Sawyer shouldered open his apartment door. Apparently it got stuck in the jamb. Either that or he felt like throwing his weight at things. “I’m not planning on waiting on you, just coming in to make sure you’re okay.”
“Like you give a shit.”
She ignored him and stepped inside, well aware he wasn’t completely in his right mind. That probably just meant he was voicing his true feelings, but she couldn’t hold them against him.
He flipped on the lights and headed into his sparsely furnished living room. Though it was hard to drag her attention from him, she took a glance around, noting the lack of clutter. No knickknacks, no newspapers, no pillows. The only personal touches were the framed pictures on the coffee table, next to smudges that had to be footprints. The floors were bare hardwood, the walls a muted beige. A flat-screen TV, pair of matching brown armchairs, and a worn-looking sofa finished off the room, along with the beagle impressively stretched out on said worn sofa.
“Slide over, Greta.” He lightly thumped her rump, and the dog moved. Barely.
She opened one baleful eye as Sawyer dropped down beside her, wagged her tail halfheartedly at Layla, then went back to sleep.
“Want a drink?” he asked, making no move to rise.
“No, thanks.” She cupped her elbows and resisted the urge to look at his pictures. They faced the couch, so it would be obvious if she turned them around. But for some reason, she really wanted to see the family Sawyer missed so much.
He shut his eyes and didn’t say anything more.
“Want to clean up that cheek?” she asked, trying not to fidget. “It looks pretty nasty. The scratches, I mean, not you.”
A sardonic smile lifted his mouth. “Afraid I won’t be as pretty for the camera?”
“No. I don’t care about that.” And she didn’t. She hadn’t even considered how he’d look in photographs.
“There’s always makeup, right?”
“Yeah, but that’s not why. No picture matters more than the person in it.” When he opened his eyes and fixed his cool blue stare on her, she completed her thought. “Especially when the person is you.”
He took her measure silently then pushed a hand through his shaggy hair. That he was overdue for a trim only made him appear more boyish. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Next to the master bedroom. I’ve got some antiseptic in there.”
“Okay.”
“Layla,” he said when she turned. “Thanks.”
She nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
After digging through his cabinet, she came back with peroxide, antibacterial cream, cotton swabs, and a couple of small bandages, which he waved off. “Look who’s worried about beauty now,” she said, hoping he’d smile.
He didn’t.
She knelt at his side and went to work with the antiseptic and the cotton swabs. Despite his grumpiness, he laid his head back and stared up at the ceiling while she dabbed and cleaned the cuts.
“You’re about the only guy I’ve ever known who actually has peroxide and antibacterial cream,” she said, trying to make conversation.
He took his time answering. “My ma drummed in the importance of first aid stuff. And buying that crap made me feel like she was here.”
Her throat constricted at the misery in his tone. Next time she’d just skip the icebreakers.
She finished up with the antibacterial cream, though her finger slipped and nearly poked him in the eye when his long, curly blond lashes stole her attention. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Thanks,” he said when she moved back.
This close, his irises were a bright, jewel blue, highlighted with navy rims. They were clear and completely without guise, the kind of eyes she could trust. He wouldn’t lie to her, and she had to know. “What did you mean before? On the phone. About Aidan wanting to ship me off.”
His head dropped back against the cushions again. “I don’t want to be in the middle.”
“You’re not.”
His harsh laugh didn’t do much for her mood. “Thanks for that.”
“Sawyer—”
“Don’t. Don’t apologize again, and don’t ask me questions you should be asking him. I don’t say things idly. Even drunk,” he added when she sent him a dubious glance.
“You’re not drunk anymore.”
“No. Not even buzzed.”
“I’m the original buzz killer.”
He laughed again, softer now. “I wouldn’t say that. But it does get harder to forget when I’m looking straight at the source of my problems. One source,” he acknowledged, picking up her hand and cupping it in his own. “And the solution for a host of others. In a perfect world, anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
“Really want to know?”
“Yes. No.” His lips twitched as she changed her mind. “Yes.”
“Sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” But she wasn’t, at all.
“In a perfect world, we wouldn’t be on opposite sides just because we want to be together. Which is what this comes down to. It’s that simple.”
She sank back on her heels, completely speechless. He’d actually come right out and said it. Just pointed out the elephant in the corner and named him Fred. Now he stared at her, unblinking, waiting for her to panic and flee or something equally inane. She could almost read the expectation on his face.
“What did he say?” She firmed her lips when he gave a long breath that was damn close to a sigh. “Just tell me, Sawyer. This isn’t about putting you in an awkward spot. You’re already there. It’s about me needing to know from someone who won’t bullshit me with what they think I want to hear.”
His fingers stirred against hers, restless, before falling still. “He offered you to me. After stating he knew I was”—his Adam’s apple jerked—“in love with you.”
Her skin chilled, as if the temperature had just been turned to subzero. She tried to pull her hand free of his, but he held fast. Held tight. “You asked,” he added.
She had no answer for the horror and joy he’d wrought with so few words. So she sat mute, her eyes so dry that they burned, while he finished it.
“It was the night I tied you to the headboard. He was downstairs, drinking. He had a few in my presence, and he’d been drinking before I got there.”
“Aidan doesn’t drink.”
He gave her another of those mercurial half-smiles that didn’t crinkle his eyes. “Neither do I.” He squeezed her hand lightly. “I’m quite certain he wasn’t thinking straight. We argued. He suggested I could give you something he couldn’t, so there was no reason to alter our arrangement. You could be mine, as lo
ng as I understood that it wasn’t for real. It wouldn’t go beyond pleasure. He would be your husband, the father of your kids.” Now he looked away. “If it came to that.”
“If it came to that,” she repeated dully. Somehow those words were the cruelest blow of all.
She could withstand Aidan offering her to Sawyer as if he were an indulgent prince, determined to fulfill her wishes. That’s how he would see it. She saw it as manipulation and control of the most vile sort. The men would figure it out, present the plan to her, and she’d fall into line. Because it was reasonable. Why trouble herself with pesky emotions when there was a rational solution? Just screw Sawyer and marry Aidan. Matter solved.
No wonder Sawyer ditched her that night. No fucking wonder she’d sensed so much boiling beneath the surface tonight.
“How did you go to lunch with me?” she whispered. “How could you even stand to look at me?”
“Looking at you is the one thing that makes me happy. If running into a blade and feeling my guts spill out on the floor feels good.” He shrugged at her expression. “So I’m overdramatic.”
Somehow she smiled. And meant it. “For a guy who wants to be a math teacher, yeah.”
“Wanting isn’t the same thing as getting, Nebraska.”
Every time he called her Nebraska, it registered deep inside her, no matter what they were discussing. The affection in the nickname, and the reminder of the closeness of their hometowns, never failed to make her pause. They had so much in common. Shared goals, the same kind of background. So much, and yet he felt miles away from her right now.
Her bones creaked as if she’d aged ten years in ten minutes as she shifted from her knees and slumped down on the couch. “I know all about wanting and not getting. He knows I want kids. I can negotiate a lot of things. Not that.”
Sawyer said nothing. What could he say?
“That’s a deal breaker for me.” She gripped her hands in her lap. Had she really just said that? Was it shock talking? How could she even consider—
She shuddered. She couldn’t get there in her head. Leaving Aidan, even weighing the possibility in her mind, shook her to her toes. He wasn’t just her fiancé. She’d given up so much of her life to move here with him. He was her closest friend, her lover. Her partner in life.
The man who’d lost the ability to keep her happy on his own. To even want to try. The man who’d discussed sharing her with another, who’d dismissed their unborn children to someone who was practically a stranger to him. As he’d dismissed them to her, though she’d refused to acknowledge it.
Now she could think of nothing but.
“I’m so stupid.” She twisted her fingers together, then yanked them apart. Her ears were ringing, her heart racing. “Why did I even come here?”
“You called me,” he reminded her, alerting her to his presence against her side. For a moment, she’d dropped into middle space, and everything around her had faded away.
“I don’t mean tonight. I mean here here. New York. He sprang moving on me all of a sudden, and I didn’t know what to make of it. He’d never mentioned it before, but when he came home and found out Josh had stopped by—”
Josh.
I miss you.
She’d worried that text had been from Josh’s wife. But what if it hadn’t been? And what if it had been less than innocent?
“Layla?” Sawyer leaned into her field of vision so swiftly that Greta gave a startled yelp and leaped off the couch. She trotted away, no worse for wear. Unlike Layla. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head. Even her jaw felt slack. She couldn’t seem to form words or complete thoughts. Pieces of the puzzle of her life slid into place in her head before scattering again. She couldn’t hold them together long enough to make sense of the picture.
“Layla. Talk to me.” Sawyer’s concerned frown swam into view.
There was only person she could talk to. Only one who could give her the answers to the questions she needed to ask.
“I need to go.” She jerked to her feet, hardly cognizant of Sawyer rising with her. Though she hadn’t kept her focus on Aidan nearly enough lately, he garnered all her attention now. She simply didn’t have room for anyone else.
“Wait.” Sawyer grabbed her arm, and she stared at him so hard that his face blurred. “Where are you going? If it’s to see Aidan, I can come with you. I’ll dri—” He broke off and shoved a hand through his hair. “Fine, dammit, you can drive, but I’ll be by your side.”
Even in her deep freeze, his worry melted her heart. Soon, too soon, she would have to deal with this part of her life too. Deal with him. She couldn’t pretend any longer that there could be a resolution for all three of them that wouldn’t hurt. She’d made decisions, set things into motion that couldn’t be tidied up with apologies and promises. One way or another, she’d face what she’d done.
“I need to do this alone. I hope you understand.” When he locked his jaw and tore his gaze from hers, she reached up to touch his scratched cheek. He didn’t flinch. “Thank you. You have no idea what you’ve done for me, the courage you’ve helped me find to stand up and handle what I have to.”
“You don’t have to handle it alone,” he gritted out. “I’m right here. I’m fucking here.”
Pressure rose in her chest, expanding until it stole her breath. She inched up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his, drawing strength from him like a cable hooked to a battery charger. He gripped her arms and held her close. Hung on even when she would’ve pulled away.
He got it too. That this wasn’t just good night. It might be their last good-bye, period.
“I’ve gotta go.” She jerked back and sucked down one more glimpse of him. Enough to carry her through whatever happened next. “I have to.” He needs me.
And that, above all, was what was propelling her out the door. Aidan needed her. It wasn’t only about their broken relationship. If he wasn’t the man she’d believed, if they couldn’t be the fairy-tale couple she’d so foolishly hoped they would be, at least she could be there for him. She could hold his hand, and they’d figure this out. Whatever it meant. Whatever it cost them.
“If you need me, I’m here. No matter what. Do you understand me?” He cradled her face in his hands. “I’m here.”
She nodded and covered his hands with hers. “You asked me what I meant by being careful,” she murmured, shocked her voice could be steady when even her organs jittered.
“Yes.”
“I tend to rush into things. I never looked before crossing the street. Never looked before I leaped for all I was worth. I threw myself into my relationship with Aidan. Wholeheartedly, never doubting my gut. I took the job at Hot Shots because it felt right.”
She stared into his eyes and swore she could see everything that mattered. He didn’t hide. His honesty humbled her and showed her exactly how far she’d fallen. She had a long way to climb to make it right.
This was the start.
“The only time I doubted was what I felt for you. But I don’t anymore. The timing was off. It wasn’t supposed to happen. But maybe what was wrong was that I couldn’t see. Somehow, some way, you helped me remember how to trust myself.” Her breath trembled out. “Sometimes a look is all it takes. Anyone who believes otherwise hasn’t been lucky enough to feel what I do when I look at you and know you’re looking back at me. And I don’t want to play it safe anymore. I want to risk everything. If I fail, I want to get right back up and do it all over again. I want a love that matters that much.”
“I want that for you too.” He used his thumbs to catch the tears tumbling down her cheeks. Tears that felt as cleansing as rain, the acid kind that burned on contact. “I want it to be with me. God, I want that. But if it’s not, I’ll wish you well.” He tapped her nose with his thumb. “And maybe buy a couple voodoo dolls, with extra pins.”
She laughed, shocked that she could. That was something else he’d given her. One more gift.
“Now get out of he
re,” he said, voice gruff. Eyes almost as damp as hers.
“I’m going.”
She made it to the door before he called to her. She glanced back, her already pulverized heart lurching at his smile. “I should’ve told you to be careful, but I’m glad I didn’t.” His smile became a grin. “It was so fucking worth it.”
“Yeah.” She smiled back while she memorized every detail of his beloved face. She’d get to see it again, on the side of buildings as she drove into work. In magazines she’d hoard like a spinster with yellowed love letters. Inside her lids, every time she closed her eyes. “It was.”
She stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind her, gripping the knob for an extra moment when she found she couldn’t let go. She took the elevator to the first floor, then walked outside and lifted her left hand until her ring caught the thin beam from the streetlight.
Her whirlwind courtship and engagement had been worth it too. Whatever happened from now would be a fresh start. A turned page, for both of them.
First, she needed answers. And for that, she needed Aidan.
She drove to their townhouse, steadier than she’d been in weeks. Finally she would find out what was going on.
He wasn’t home yet, though he’d been there at some point during the day. Her cell hadn’t rung, and there were no messages. He probably figured she’d found someone else to spend the night with.
Had he?
She sat down on their bed and picked up the purple box with the floppy bow he’d left on her pillow last Friday night. Another sex toy. Not the most romantic of gifts, but he gave them to her so often he must think she liked them. Her mouth quirked. Or else he got a discount to Sex Emporium with his auto club membership and wanted to take full advantage.
Frowning, she leaned forward and opened the nightstand. Toy upon toy. More in the basket he’d presented to Sawyer that first night. He gave them to her almost weekly now. What was so special about Sex Emporium? They’d gone there a couple of times when they’d arrived in the city, but it was in a crappy, sort of rundown area. That particular corner seemed oddly deserted. Well, except for the couples who sneaked into the alley beside the sex shop. A couple of guys had directly left the private viewing booth in the store and gone out through the side exit. She and Aidan had seen them there as they were leaving, and he’d laughed at her embarrassment.
