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Chapter Thirteen
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Logan hissed under his breath and turned to check that Colby couldn't hear him. Even though he was incensed for some reason, I was glad to see he was at least considering our son's emotional welfare.
"Hi, Logan. You're early."
"Yeah, I'm glad about that or I'd have missed this little …" He paused, looking me up and down before he shook his head. "Spectacle."
When I glanced nervously up at Sawyer for support he was already looking down at me, a ghost of a smile on his lips, like Logan's irate mood had amused him. Sniffing he slid his hand from around my waist, pulled my head toward him, and kissed my forehead before he turned his attention to Logan again.
"Spectacle? The only one making a spectacle here is you. You heard the lady, you're early. Why is that? I hear your time with your son is limited. I'd have thought you'd have wanted to savor every precious minute you had with him before you had to bring him home." The way Sawyer was able to keep his tone passive but managed to metaphorically sock Logan in the jaw was impressive.
"What business is this of yours?" Logan asked, directing his question to Sawyer but had continued to glare at me. "And who the fuck are you, anyway?" he barked louder.
Sawyer didn't respond until Logan eventually tore his angry eyes away from me and looked at him properly for the first time.
"Don't you remember me? We've met before." Sawyer glanced down at me and flashed me an unhurried sexy smile, his eyes twinkled mischievously like he was enjoying himself. "Sawyer Wild? Last year at the wine bar in the city?" he prompted, and my heartbeat thudded crazily in my chest as I waited for the fallout from Logan once he'd made the connection.
"You?" His eyebrows rose to his hairline and he turned back to look at me, those dark brown eyes I used to love bugging out of his head. "But I thought—"
"What did you think? That we weren't the real deal? Then you were wrong," Sawyer gibed in a low menacing tone. I could have kissed him for having my back.
Logan ran his hand through his hair and held the back of his neck. "I … I'm so fucking disappointed in you. This," he raked his gaze up and down Sawyer's body, "is how you spend the weekends when I'm taking care of your son?"
"Our son," I corrected. "And not that it's any business of yours, but yes, Sawyer and I share our time."
"Fabulous sharing time too, if I may say," Sawyer added, and hugged me into his chest. "I guess you've forgotten why you're seeing this particular picture in front of you. I hope Poppy was worth it, because having seen her, I'd bet my money that I got the better deal."
The breath Logan sucked in was so long I thought for a moment he'd implode, until he snapped, "Stay away from my son—"
"Now, wait a minute," I interjected, finding my voice when a sudden burst of adrenaline coursed through my veins. "You've got some nerve—" Sawyer's hand left my waist and opened the balled fist by my side. Sliding his hand into it, he squeezed it gently, immediately halting my rant. His subtle touch centered me and my temper immediately began to de-escalate.
"Billie hasn't allowed me to meet Colby yet, although I feel from the affectionate way she talks about your child, I know him already. You should know your ex-wife well enough to understand she has her son's needs pegged way above her own. I don't believe you can say the same. How long did you say it was before Colby met Poppy?" Sawyer probed, looking down at me.
I knew he wasn't expecting an answer, but Logan didn't wait for a response, but saw shame dim the fire in Logan's eyes. "Get rid of him, and come do your duty to your son."
This was the comment from Logan I vowed would change how I regarded him from that day on.
"That was our intention," I said, without thought, as my heart climbed out from behind my mind. "Since you spent the weekend at the beach, we thought we'd grab a bite to eat and take Colby to the movies." Sawyer squeezed my hand and the look that passed between us asked me if I was sure I wanted this. The subtle nod I gave him back told him I'd made up my mind.
"On a Sunday evening? He has school tomorrow," he barked again, glancing from Sawyer to me like he couldn't believe I was taking Colby out of his routine.
"And I'll parent my child the way I see fit when he's with me, thank you. Sharing custody means both parents have a say in bringing up their child. Besides, he's had time to adjust and he hasn't yet learned the joy of doing things spur-of-the-moment with all the rigidity our custody issues have brought to his routine."
"Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with my wife?" he asked me in a low voice through gritted teeth.
"Whoa, dude, you may want to step back and take a breath." Sawyer's tone was undoubtedly protective.
"And if I don't?" Logan challenged. My heart almost stopped, because I had no idea how Sawyer would respond.
"Colby learns what an ass his father is. Now, here's what's going to happen. We're all going to walk over to your car, paste smiles on our faces, and make that kid feel like we're all friends. His needs come first, and no matter what you think of Billie and me, you keep those opinions to yourself."
"I don't want you staying at our house with my son."
"First, it's not your house anymore. Second, that's up to Billie, not you. You gave up all claims on her when you cheated. I'd say you're hardly in any position to make demands of how she lives her life. Don't you take your son to stay at your new home? The one you and your new partner share? The least you could do, since you left Billie and Colby to fend for themselves, is feel happy your ex has found somebody else."
"You have too much to say."
"Indeed, I do," Sawyer agreed without a note of sarcasm. "And there's plenty more I could say, but out of respect for my girl and your son, I'll keep those thoughts to myself." Sliding his hand possessively around my waist again, Sawyer stepped us to the side and strolled with me toward Logan's car in the driveway. Fear built up in my throat, and I thought for a moment Logan would lose it and come after Sawyer and throw a punch—or worse. But he didn't move.
