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"His parents' house? Duh, nope."
"Is Sawyer there?" I asked again as I tried to keep the alarm from my voice.
"Um, he was. I mean he's kind of busy at the moment and can't come to the phone right now. I … erm, I don't know where he went, to be honest," she finally decided, and even though I had no idea what any of what she said meant, I felt fiercely jealous of her and intensely possessive of Sawyer.
"Can I ask where you are?"
"New York," she replied.
"No, I mean are you at a party?"
"Duh, yeah, I'm at a party in New York."
"Can I ask whose party?"
"Sure, it's Strings Michaels' party. You know, the keyboard player from DisKord," she finally disclosed with a note of pride in her voice.
Stunned, I lay with my cell to my ear as shock ripped through me that Sawyer had and gone to a party without calling me back. This time a poisonous cocktail of potently unpleasant feelings swarmed within me, and every thought I'd imagined he'd had about me was worse than the last.
Anger grew in my belly and tore through me; I was angry with him, then at me—for putting myself in such a vulnerable position. I felt dismayed for not being straight with Sawyer in the first place. And I'd compromised us out of some misguided guilt and loyalty to Logan when he hadn't deserved it.
Despite the week leading up to Christmas being some of the best moments of my life, it hadn't taken much for me to feel confused and for my mistrust of men to seep into my mind.
As bile rose in my stomach, I flung back the covers and barely made it to the bathroom before I emptied the entire contents of my stomach and wondered what on earth I was supposed to do now. Sawyer wasn't home, he hadn't called, and a woman at a party had answered his phone.
