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“It was the third day. And let’s be honest, I did not make a great impression on day one.”
His guffaw filled the car. Then he turned toward me when we reached the base of the ramp, waiting for the light to turn green. “You definitely made an impression.” He leaned over and kissed my head. “My sweet, obnoxious, cranky little dictionary.”
I swatted at his arm and feigned anger, and he hung a left.
“Where are we going?”
“Detour,” he said. He drove in silence for a few minutes, away from the highway and toward a quaint downtown with wreaths decorating the streetlights and a raised grassy median dividing the main road, with a sign welcoming us to Songbird Springs. We stopped at a coffee shop nestled between a bookstore and a stately bed & breakfast. “They have the best breakfast sandwiches here,” he said, barely a bite into his ham and egg croissant. His neck flushed, and he changed the subject to my latte and gift ideas for my parents for the holidays.
“How do you even know about this place?” I asked as we waited to check out at the bookstore. I’d just signed their in-stock copies of my books, titles by both Gwen Dolan-Pierce and Geri Wencep, and Sawyer had selected a few tomes for my dad, a Marvels of Engineering coffee table book for my mom. I scanned the flyers on the bulletin board by the register: the book club schedule for the next two months, town activities for the holiday season, and a community Q&A session with the developers of the new neighborhood on the edge of town.
“There’s this thing called the internet,” he chuckled. He took my hand, held it all the way home. We hid ourselves away for the rest of the day at my place while everyone else was with Gram, then made dinner, made love again, and continued with the new rhythm of life we’d found ourselves dancing to. Work, Gram, us. Work, Gram, us. Cha-cha-cha.
Now he’s singing in the shower, and it takes me back to those first days again, when Nancy said he was shy, when he made himself smaller. To juxtapose that image with who he is today: marathon-finishing, tantalizing strip-teasing, take-a-shower-with-me, songbird Sawyer… it’s night and day. Wide-open ocean and land. Cold and melt-your-face-off hot.
I’m contemplating shimmying out of my shirt to join him when there’s a knock on the door, and I pull the bathroom door closed before letting Mel into the room. “He just got in about five minutes ago,” I tell her. “I can tell him to hurry.”
She waves off the update. “I actually came to talk to you, Gwendolyn.”
“You did?” I’m not sure what she could want to say, except maybe leave my son alone or let him get back to his life, or something along those lines. He’s spent so much time taking care of Gram and me that I can imagine Mel misses him.
But she nods and smiles, her eyes warm chocolate like her son’s. “I just wanted to say thank you.” She lowers herself into the desk chair and picks at a piece of lint on her sweater. “Sawyer has been my best friend for more than thirty years. I know that sounds a little weird to say, but it’s true. We were the graham cracker, the marshmallow, the chocolate. The three amigos—”
“The mountain, the sea, the sun.”
She flinches at the mention of his tattoo and I blush, because one does not see that tattoo casually. “Yes, the mountain, the sea, the sun.” Her smile returns, and she clears her throat. “What I mean to say is, when my mother duped him into going on that trip, I was furious. I was excited for what he could find, and bitter because I knew it wouldn’t last. How could it? You two were miles apart. I didn’t want to see his heart get broken again.”
Mel stands and paces the floor by the window. “When he met Chelsea, he was so ready to settle down. I think he believed that having someone he could coexist with was romantic love. I never got to model that for him. I failed at giving him that example when he was growing up, and I own that. I didn’t do much to discourage their relationship, though, because I thought he was happy, and it meant he was staying close to home. He was making plans, and then his world imploded around him.”
Making plans. What plans? Moving in together? More?
“He was a shell of himself when he left for that trip, Gwendolyn, and he came back full. Of life, of joy, of love.” She snorts. “Hell, he came back full of hope. And when he said he was leaving to stay with you for as long as you needed him…” The shower stops and the curtain hooks screech across the rod. “I was resentful at first, Gwendolyn, I’m sorry to say it. But I get it now, why he’s so willing to leave.”
“Mel, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
She squeezes my hand. “I’m saying, be good to him. He loves you more than you know.”
Then the bathroom door opens, and Sawyer emerges in a towel (thankfully). “Hey, Mom,” he says, tucking a second towel around his waist for good measure.
“Hi, Sweetheart,” she says. Her eyes go misty and her words catch. “Just seeing if you’re ready yet.”
“Yeah, soon,” he answers.
“Great. Come find us when you are.” Sawyer nods and Mel heads for the door, squeezing my hand as she passes.
“What was that all about?” Sawyer asks when she’s gone.
“I have no idea.”
Sawyer
It’s clear I’ve interrupted something, but what, I have no idea. Gwen looks equally confused. Regardless, my body is going to become one giant cramp if I don’t keep moving, so I kiss Gwen, throw on some clothes, and towel as much moisture out of my hair as I can.
For lunch, we’ve found a little family-owned Italian restaurant with flatbreads that come as highly recommended as their extensive wine list. It’s casual and quick, and I spend most of the meal answering questions about the race this morning over a bowl of gnocchi and stretching my legs under the table. At one point I accidentally kick Gwen, who is inexplicably across the table from me instead of at my side, and who keeps avoiding Mom’s gaze.
“Everything okay?” I whisper to Mom when Gwen’s deep in conversation with Maggie.
“It’s fine,” she answers. “It’s just… it’s actually happening, isn’t it?”
