by Emma Scott
“Are you on a raw food diet?” I asked.
“That’s all for her,” Sawyer said.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you eat food?”
“In theory,” he said. “I have a date with aisle twelve, actually, so if you’ll excuse me...”
I scanned the aisle markers. I found twelve and wrinkled my nose. “Frozen dinners? That doesn’t sound healthy. You prepare all this fresh food for her but none for yourself?”
“I don’t have room to carry a whole lot more,” he said. “I’ll be okay, thanks for your concern…”
“I’ll help,” I said. “What do you want? I’ll carry it for you.”
Sawyer sighed. “Listen…Darlene? That’s nice of you to offer, and thanks for the crackers, but I’m good. After she goes to bed, I’ll throw something in the microwave and hit the books.” He stopped, shook his head, perplexed. “Why am I explaining this? I have to go.”
He started to walk away and I was tempted to let him. He was kind of a jerk, but that was probably the exhaustion. I tried to imagine what it would be like taking care of an entire little human being all by myself. It was hard enough taking care of one adult me. I decided to set aside Sawyer’s gruffness (and his ridiculous attractiveness) and help the guy out. Be neighborly.
“You’re being so silly right now,” I called after him.
He stopped, turned. “Silly?”
“Yes! I’m right here. Let me help you.” I crossed my arms. “How long has it been since you’ve had a really nice meal for yourself?” He didn’t say anything but stared back at me.
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “Come on. I’ll make you something.”
“Now you’re going to cook for me? We met eight seconds ago.”
“So?”
Sawyer blinked. “So…you don’t have to cook for me.”
“Of course I don’t have to. I want to. We’re neighbors.” I peered at the aisle markers again to get my bearings. “I was going to make tuna casserole. Mostly because it’s the only thing I know how to make. How does that sound?” I squatted beside the stroller. “Do you like casserole, sweet pea?”
Olivia smiled at me over her biscuit, and kicked her foot with spastic baby joy. I smiled back and straightened.
“Olivia said she would love some casserole.”
Sawyer looked at me with a strange expression on his face. I gave the sleeve of his hoodie a tug.
“Come on. Looks like fish is this way.”
Sawyer hesitated. “I’m not going to get out of this, am I?”
I cocked my head, frowning. “Why would you want to?”
He was still frowning, but he pushed the stroller after me. “I’m just not used to people doing things for me. Elena does enough already. I feel like a charity case.”
“You’re not a charity case,” I said. “One dinner isn’t going to kill you.”
“I know, but I’m juggling a hundred balls in the air and if someone reaches in and grabs one, it’s going to throw me off.” He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as a jaw-cracking yawn came over him. “Shit, I don’t know why I just said that. I don’t even know you.”
“That’s the benefit to talking,” I said. “Getting to know someone. A revolutionary concept, I know.”
He rolled his eyes and yawned again.
“You really do burn the midnight oil, don’t you?” I said. “Elena told me you’re studying law.”
“Oh yeah?” he said. We’d arrived at the meat section. He picked up a package of rib eye steak, then tossed it back with a sigh. “What else did she tell you?”
I selected some fresh tuna and put it in my basket. “That you have a heart of gold but you’re stressed out all the time.”
His head came up, alarmed. “What? Why…why did she say that?”
“Maybe she thinks it’s true. The second part looks like it, for sure. As for the first?” I shrugged, then gave him a dry smile. “The jury is still out.”
“Ha ha,” he said dully. He glanced at me, then looked away. “Are you always this blunt?”
“I wish I could say honesty is the best policy, but it’s more of a lack-of-filter situation.”
“I noticed.”
“Says the guy who began our acquaintance with Who are you?” I said, with a laugh.
Sawyer stopped and stared at me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. My pulse thumped a little harder while under his sharp, dark-eyed scrutiny. I cleared my throat, and cocked an eyebrow.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I said with a nervous laugh.
Sawyer’s eyes widened in surprise and he shook his head. “Sorry, I…I’m just really tired.”
He moved ahead of me and I watched a pretty young woman check out Sawyer, then Olivia, then Sawyer and Olivia together. I could practically see the hearts in her eyes. Sawyer was oblivious.
“So you’re in law school,” I said, catching up to him.
“Yeah,” he said. “At UC Hastings.”
“Oh, is that a good school?” I asked, then froze. “Wait. It just hit me. You’re going to be a lawyer?”
“Yeah?”
“Sawyer the Lawyer?”
He groaned. “Please don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It’s cute.”
“It’s childish and stupid.”
“Oh, come on.” I scoffed. “Surely you can see how cute it is. Such a funny coincidence.”
“Yeah, one I haven’t heard a million times,” he muttered. “Anyway, I’m going to be an attorney, not a lawyer.”
“What’s the difference?”
“If you finish law school, you’re a lawyer. If you pass the bar and are licensed to practice, you’re an attorney. I’m going to be an attorney.”
“Sawyer the Attorney doesn’t have the same ring to it.” I fished my phone out of my backpack. “Wikipedia says the terms are practically interchangeable.” I shot him a grin.
He sighed, and a tired chuckle escaped him, one that seemed to surprise him. He gave me another perplexed look.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said. “You’re like a…”
“I’m like a, what?”
Our eyes met and held, and despite the perpetual supermarket cold, I felt warm in Sawyer’s gaze. His stiff expression loosened, the tension he carried on him eased slightly. He was locked up tight, this guy; but for that handful of heartbeats, I saw him. A thought slipped into the crevices of my mind.
He’s lonely.
Then Sawyer blinked, shook his head and looked away. “Nothing,” he said. The tension came back—I could feel it like a prickly force field around him—and I was locked out again. “Let’s get out of here before your magic baby biscuit wears off.”
I smiled and followed after silently, while internally I was dying to know what he’d been about to say.
Maybe nothing good, I thought. That was likely; I didn’t know when to stop talking and got all up in people’s business.
But that warm feeling in my chest—in the general vicinity of my heart—didn’t go away. Sawyer had been about to pay me a compliment, I was sure of it. Nothing boring or bland—he was too smart for that. But something extraordinary, maybe.
A compliment that didn’t sound like a compliment but it was, because it was made only for me.
You’re the one being silly now, I thought, and walked with him to the checkout. But it seemed that I’d traveled three thousand miles, and the deep longing to have someone see me trailed after like a shadow I would never shake.
Sawyer
We walked home together, Olivia and I…and my new neighbor.
How in the hell did this happen?
Mere hours ago, it had been a typical Friday. While the rest of my friends and fellow law students were out drinking or partying to blow off the stress of Third Year, I was going to make dinner for my daughter, play and read with her before bath time, then put her to bed and study until m
y eyes gave out.
And now…
Now, Darlene Montgomery was going to cook dinner for me.
Mental alarms and whistles were going off, telling me this was a bad idea. I didn’t bring women home anymore, and yet I’d caved so easily. I chalked it up to my fatigue and her energy. Darlene must be a flexible dancer, I thought, because she slipped past all of my usual barricades and defenses, bending and contorting herself through a field of red laser beams like a ninja in a spy movie.
One dinner. That’s it.
Twilight had fallen, coppery and warm, as we walked. Darlene talked nonstop about the differences between New York and San Francisco. I thought it would drive me crazy but I liked listening to her. She had a pretty voice, and my conversations these days consisted mostly of cajoling my kid to eat her peas, or listening to law students bitch about finals.
My eyes kept stealing glances at her.
In the grocery store, my photographic memory had taken an entire reel of just her face. She was a collage of striking features—a wide mouth, large eyes, full lips, high cheekbones, dark eyebrows—not one aspect insignificant.
Here, under the yellow of the streetlights, her eyes were deeper blue and full of light. Over her lithe frame, she wore a bulky sweater, but it didn’t conceal what she was. She looked like a dancer—slender but with lean muscle, and she walked with an easy grace, despite the heavy black combat boots on her feet.
“So what’s with the boots?” I asked. It was the most harmless part of what she was wearing.
“Protection.”
“From what?”
“Not from. For. For my feet,” she said. “I’m a dancer—or will be again soon, and my feet are a precious commodity.”
“What kind of dance do you do? Ballet?”
“When I was little,” she said. “But I’m into modern dances and capoeira. Have you heard of capoeira?”
“An Afro-Brazilian martial art that combines elements of dance, acrobatics, and music, developed in Brazil at the beginning of the 16th century.”
Darlene stopped. “Well, look at you, Encyclopedia Brown. Are you a fan?”
“I read something about it once.”
“Once? Do you always remember something you read once so precisely?”
“Yes.”
I felt her gaze on me and glanced over to see an expectant look on her face—the kind women wear when the guy has said or done something that obviously requires further explanation.
“I have an eidetic memory,” I said.
“A what?”
“Eidetic—photographic memory.”
“Get out!” Darlene swatted my arm. “For real?”
I nodded.
“So you can remember long strings of numbers, or… what you were wearing on January 24th, 2005.”
I shrugged. “It’s pretty strong.”
“Well…how strong is it?” Darlene demanded. “On a scale of one to you-should-be-on-The Ellen DeGeneres Show?”
“Not sure what Ellen’s requirements are. Eight?”
Darlene was staring at me with wide eyes. “Wow. You’ve got a mega-mind. That must help with law school, yeah?”
“Yeah, it does,” I said. “I probably wouldn’t be graduating on time otherwise.”
“Very cool,” Darlene said.
I could feel her gearing up to quiz me like Andrew from my study group and cut her off at the pass.
“Anyway, you’re getting back into dancing?” I asked. “Just in time to be my upstairs neighbor? Lucky me.”
She grinned but it wilted quickly. “Not sure yet.” Her fingers toyed with a tiny scrap of paper from her sweater pocket. “I’ve nearly thrown this away a hundred times since this afternoon.”
“Is that your fortune?”
“It does look like that, doesn’t it?” she said. “Who knows? Maybe it is. It’s a phone number for a dance troupe, but I’m not sure if I’m going to call it.”
“Why not?”
She shoved the paper back into her pocket. “I’ve only been here a few days. I have a great place, a job. I’m not sure what I’m doing yet. I sort of came here to start over again.”
“Why? Are you on the run from the law?”
It was a joke, but Darlene’s eyes flared and she looked away.
“No, nothing like that,” she said quickly. Her smile looked forced. “I kind of like how no one knows me here. It’s like the proverbial blank slate and I can write whatever I want on it.”
I nodded, at a loss. The conversation had taken a turn for the personal and that was forbidden territory. I didn’t have the time to dive deep into anyone; I was barely keeping my head above water as it was. I was heavy and anchored down, dragging myself through the days until one year was up and Olivia was safely all mine. The exhaustion was like a suit of armor, but Darlene…She seemed weightless—as if she wore combat boots to keep her from floating away. She smiled constantly, laughed easily, and she swept into my life at a grocery store like it were nothing.
She’s the exact opposite of me in every way.
A short silence fell, that lasted all of three seconds.
“Anyway, tonight, I’m your chef,” Darlene said.
“You don’t have to…”
She stopped and planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve seen Law and Order. Are we going to, what’s the word? Where you argue over the same thing a second time?”
“Relitigate.”
“Yes, that. Are we going to relitigate dinner tonight?”
“I’m just not used to—”
“Overruled, Sawyer the Lawyer,” she said. “I’m going to make dinner and you’re going to let me or I’m going to tell Elena on you.”
“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
Darlene grinned. “That’s just another way of saying persistent.”
I rolled my eyes and bent to check on Olivia. She was still happily munching on the little biscuit and babbling. She grinned over a mouthful of mush at me. I grinned back.
Holy hell, I love that face.
I straightened to see Darlene watching me, her eyes soft, and I realized I was still smiling like a moron. I reverted back to neutral, took the stroller handle and started pushing.
“You’re so sweet with her,” Darlene said. “How long has it been just the two of you?”
“Ten months,” I said. My jaw stiffened. I never talked about Molly if I could help it. I had an irrational fear that even saying her name would call her back from wherever she was, to try to take Olivia away from me.
My shoulders hunched in anticipation of the next questions; more personal questions that I hated. But Darlene must’ve gotten the memo since she didn’t say anything else about it.
At the Victorian, I carried the stroller with Olivia in it up the three steps while Darlene unlocked the front door. In the foyer, she glanced at the flight of stairs leading up with a frown.
“Do you carry the baby and the stroller up a whole flight of stairs?” she asked.
“No, I take Olivia up, then come back for it.” I shot her a dry look. “Hence, the-not-buying-a crap-ton-of-stuff to carry.”
“Such a man.” Darlene sighed. “I’ll help. Stroller or baby?”
I hesitated. The stroller was heavier and bulkier but the alternative was Darlene carried Olivia. I scrubbed my chin.
Darlene gave me a tilted smile. “I won’t break her, I promise. Or I can take the stroller,” she added quickly. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Oh, now you’re concerned about what I’m comfortable with?” I asked with laugh. “That’s a first.”
She grinned and rolled her eyes. “Such a crank. Pick.”
“The stroller is heavy,” I said slowly. “If you don’t mind taking her?”
“Mind? Not in a million years.”
She knelt in front of Olivia and moved the tray aside, undid the mini-seatbelt.
“Hey, sweet pea. Can I hold you?” Olivia’s little face split open with a smil
e as Darlene lifted her up and cradled her easily on her hip. “Is that a yummy cracker? I bet it is. Can I have some?”
She pretended to bite at the biscuit and Olivia squealed with laughter.
The alarm bells were screaming now as I folded up the stroller and carried it up the stairs, Darlene following after. At my door, I fumbled for my key, acutely conscious of Darlene’s presence behind me, like a low heat against my back. A sliver of something electric slipped down my spine. I hadn’t brought a woman back here since I moved in.
Darlene isn’t a woman by your usual definition, she’s a neighbor. And you didn’t bring her back; she somehow finagled her way in.
My body didn’t give a damn how she got there, only that she was.
I opened the door and set the stroller against the wall just inside, then shut the door behind us. Us. Three of us.
Don’t get soft now. One dinner, strictly neighborly.
“She’s precious.” Darlene handed Olivia back to me, and then slipped out of her backpack to set it on the kitchen counter. “And this is a nice place. Much bigger than mine. Two bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never seen a baby-proofed bachelor pad.” Darlene tilted her chin at the coffee table that had a protective slab of rubber on each corner. “Super cute.”
I started to tell her my place was the furthest from a bachelor pad as you could get, but my words died.
Darlene had taken off her ratty old sweater and tied it around her slender waist, then rummaged in my cupboards. She was wearing a black dancer’s top with straps that crisscrossed her back. I became mesmerized by her lean muscles that moved under her pale skin, the elegant line of her neck, and the sleek cut of her arms as she reached up on a high shelf for a pan.
I suddenly had the urge to see her dance. To see her move the way the lines of her body hinted she could.
And just like that, ten months of celibacy came crashing into me. The blood rushed to my groin, and going soft was suddenly the least of my worries. I coughed to conceal a sudden groan that nearly erupted out of me.
“You okay?” Darlene asked over her shoulder.
“Sure. Fine.”
This is a bad idea.