Page 156 of Sparks Fly

Sawyer lifted her brows. “That’s not your fine,” she said.

I stopped in the doorway, caught. “I just—” I exhaled and let my shoulders drop. “It’s dinner. It’s literally just dinner.”

“And you’re acting like you’re walking into court,” she said.

I tried to laugh, but it came out thin. “This is worse than court.”

Sawyer’s mouth quirked. “Oh?”

“Yes,” I said, pointing at her like she was the one who needed convincing. “You don’t understand. They’re going to look at you and love you and then I’m going to cry in a restaurant.”

She stared at me for a beat, then blinked slowly. “That’s your fear?”

I nodded once, serious. “Yes.”

Her whole face softened. “Jesus,” she murmured. “Come here.”

I crossed the room and sat carefully on the edge of the couch by her uninjured side, still moving like I was afraid I’d bump her wrong and break something important. Sawyer’s good hand slid into my lap, her fingers warm and steady where they laced through mine.

“You don’t have to do it tonight,” she said quietly. “If it’s too much.”

“I do,” I answered immediately. “I want to. I’m just—”

“Terrified,” she supplied.

“Yeah,” I admitted.

Sawyer squeezed my hand. “Then be terrified,” she said. “And do it anyway.”

I swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

“Also,” she added, letting her eyes flick over me, “you look really good.”

My chest loosened a fraction. “Thank you.”

“And if you cry,” she continued in that deadpan voice of hers, “I will absolutely pretend it’s because the appetizer touched your soul.”

That got an actual laugh out of me. “You would.”

“I would,” she said. “I’m very supportive.”

I leaned in and kissed her carefully, soft and quick, the kind of kiss you give someone you’re trying not to hurt. Sawyer chased it a little, her mouth warm and patient against mine.

“Go,” she murmured when we parted. “Tell your people.”

“My people,” I repeated, smiling in spite of myself.

Sawyer’s eyes softened. “Yeah,” she said. “Your people.”

I stood, grabbed my purse, checked my phone again even though I had checked it thirty seconds earlier, and hovered near the door.

Sawyer watched me hover like she had already learned this was what I did right before something mattered.

“Hey,” she said.

I looked at her. “You’re not doing this alone anymore,” she said simply.

The words landed low and solid. I nodded once, my throat tight. “Okay.”