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"Mmm," he asked, the throaty sound croaked before he tried again.
"Sawyer?" I asked, not entirely sure it was him.
"Billie, hi," he said, his voice still raspy from sleep.
"I'm so sorry about last night. Logan … he turned up out of the blue."
"And stayed the night," he added, his tone flat.
"Yeah, he did. He drank too much wine…"
"And this is why you didn't want to come here for Christmas …because he was coming?" Sawyer's frustration was thick in his voice.
"No. That wasn't it at all, and I'd like to think you know me better than that by now," I snapped.
"Do I? So he just turned up? Was he there when I called you? When you brushed me off by lying that you were cleaning up?"
"Yes, but that's not why I didn't speak to you."
"Wasn't it? Then why?" My body winced at the sober tone he used.
"It was because I wanted to tell you he'd turned up and Poppy had gone to Vermont. I would have told him where to go, but Colby had seen him at the window, so I could hardly turn him away on Christmas Day, when his son was waiting to see how I responded. You had worked so hard to bring light to my little boy's life all last week, and I didn't want to snuff that effort out by shutting the door in his father's face."
"Look, I've only had two hours of sleep. I'm pissed off at you, and I'm tired. We'll talk about this when I get up later. I'll call you then." Without saying goodbye, Sawyer disconnected the phone call. I felt utterly gutted.
I realized I'd stood ridged the whole time we'd spoken, and when I glanced at the digits on the screen I saw the call between us had lasted less than ninety seconds. Sawyer was angry and I was to blame. In the time I had known him, I'd never known his emotions to get the better of him during a difficult exchange, but there was no mistaking how angry he was.
With my heart feeling heavy and my stomach in knots, I tried to occupy myself by packing Colby's suitcase. I didn't dare tempt fate by beginning to pack mine. All morning long, I kept checking my phone—checking the volume on my ringer, my texts, my messenger app—out of fear I'd miss Sawyer's next contact.
By lunchtime, I felt sick. My body was locked tight up with tension and my heart felt like it was bleeding slowly inside. At 3:00 p.m. it began to snow, and I sat motionless by the window, my thoughts wrung out from all the possible scenarios that could play out when, or even if, the man I loved decided to call me back.
By 4:30 p.m. it was dark again. The snowfall had eased off a little but continued to fall. Unsure of what to do, and knowing Colby had to get to Logan's for the following morning, I decided to pack a bag for myself, even knowing I might not ever use it and to drive to somewhere near La Guardia airport with Colby to stay at a hotel nearby. At least with him safely off to Florida, I could concentrate on the situation with Sawyer.
After checking the weather forecast, I felt convinced I'd made the right decision and by 5:15 p.m. that evening I had merged onto the highway near our home in New Jersey, headed for a hotel close to the airport.
Turning on the radio, Cassadee Pope belted out "If My Heart Had A Heart." Gripping the steering wheel, I swallowed back tears and turned my concentration to getting me and my son safely to our destination.
The snowfall became heavier again as we crossed the Queensboro Bridge and entered New York City. I was worried I'd made a mistake just leaving the way I had, but the traffic kept crawling along. Shortly before 9:00 p.m., after a long nervous drive, we finally made it into our hotel room.
Colby flopped onto the second queen bed and was out like a light in minutes. I envied his ability to fall asleep as I lay awake, my heart aching in my chest as I checked my cell again and again and still had no word from Sawyer.
I showered, having skipped one that morning due to Logan, and got into bed. Miscommunication in the past had almost cost me my second chance back when Sawyer had been called to Arizona. This time the only excuse I could find for him not calling back was Logan. With no missed texts or calls, I had to accept Sawyer was angry and probably couldn't bring himself to speak to me.
As tears fell, I lay in my bed, cursing my ex for showing up the way that he had and cursing myself for not being honest with Sawyer as soon as he had called. Then I wondered if he had backed off to give me space to think, space I knew I no longer needed.
Wiping my tears with the bedsheet, I scrolled and found his name. I took a deep calming breath and tried to call again.
"Sawyer's phone," a young bubbly female voice chirped, all sweetness and light. The background sounded rowdy. It sounded like a party atmosphere.
"Hi, this is Billie. Is Sawyer around?" I asked, smiling and feeling a little nervous as I imagined who I was talking to. Not sister—a cousin, or a niece, perhaps? Her voice and accent weren't as refined as Sawyer's. He had mentioned many names and the connections of the relatives who would be at his parents' house for their legendary New Year's Eve party.
"Billie? He'll know who that is? What's your last name?" I felt indignant when she asked me this because Sawyer had told me his family was excited to meet me.
"Collier," I replied, then shook my head that I'd answered. "Who are you?"
She giggled. "Monica."
"Are you at Sawyer's parents' house?"
