“Maybe after your dance class, we’ll take Tig for a walk?” I suggested.
“Can we do that?” she asked, her eyes full of concern.
“Sure, why not?”
“He isn’t ours,” Sawyer said, her brows knitting together as she tried to work it out.
“I bet his family would appreciate it if we took care of him until they can again. That means feeding him and taking him for walks.”
“Oh, all right.” She nodded. We finished eating, and I rinsed our plates, putting them in the dishwasher while Sawyer laid on her stomach on the floor with Tig. She held my cell phone in her hands, the dial tone ringing through the speakers as she called her grandma.
“Hello?”
“Grandma! It’s me!” Sawyer sang.
“My little Soy-bean! I miss you!”
“I miss you too! Guess what?”
“What?” Mom asked. It was evident how happy she was to hear her granddaughter's voice.
Cheryl claimed she wasn’t comfortable keeping in touch with my mother following our breakup, so Mom went from seeing Sawyer almost every other day and being the first person we called when we needed a sitter, to getting even less time with her than I did.
It was heartbreaking, given how supportive she’d always been of both Cheryl and me.
“We got a dog!”
“Really?” Mom exclaimed, true surprise this time.
“Yep. Daddy says he’s a straw.”
“A stray,” I corrected, giving her a bemused smile.
“Hello, Alaric,” Mom said, hearing my voice.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, walking around the counter.
“Grandma, say hi to Tig!” Sawyer said into the phone, not wanting him to feel left out. She held the phone near his ear.
“Hi Tig,” Mom said, amused. “What kind of dog is it?”
“A Newfie,” I replied. “Vet said he’s just over a year old. He’s very well behaved. Won’t go for his food until I give him permission.”
“Aren’t those large dogs?”
“Massive,” I chuckled. “I thought he was a bear cub when he wandered into the garage Monday night. Almost gave me a heart attack.”
“So that’s why I haven’t heard from my darling son about his first week of work,” Mom concluded, entertained.
“Grandma, can you come visit?” Sawyer interrupted.
“Unfortunately, I can’t this weekend Soy-bean. But the next weekend you spend with your Daddy, I’ll be there, okay?” Mom replied.
“Promise?”
“Promise. I can’t wait to meet Tig. Give him a cuddle for me, okay?”
“Okay!” Sawyer said, abandoning the phone on the floor and wriggling closer to the dog. Tig was laying on his side, his tail wagging as she cuddled him. He lifted his head, licking her face gently. She giggled and buried her face into his fur.
I picked up my phone, taking my mom off speaker. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. Things got a little crazy.”
“I bet.” Mom chuckled. “How was your first week at the new job?”
“Great,” I responded, my thoughts automatically going to Gwen first, then the work I’d done. “My boss seems impressed. My co-workers are…all right.” Again, I thought of her and inwardly cursed myself.
“Good,” Mom said, sounding relieved. “About the next weekend you have with Sawyer—you wouldn’t mind if I pop up for a visit, would you? It’s been…well, four months since I saw her last.”
“Of course, Mom. You’re welcome any time,” I told her, meaning it. We had space—it was why I’d gone for the house in the country with five bedrooms instead of the one downtown with two.
“Great. I don’t want to take up any more of your evening, so give me a call later and enjoy your weekend,”
“Thanks, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, Grandma!” Sawyer called out, still snuggling with Tig.
“Love you, Soy-bean!” Mom said. “Talk to you later.” She hung up, and I set my phone face down on the counter.
“How about that movie?” I asked, stretching. It’d be an early night with Sawyer’s dance class in the morning, but we had time for a movie before bed.
7
Again
Gwen
The smell of coffee woke me from the enticing dream I’d fallen into. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sat and looked around, momentarily disoriented. It had been a long time—eight months, to be exact—since I’d woken up to the smell of coffee.
I reached for my glasses and stretched before I kicked off my blankets. Dahmer protested from the pillow beside me, resenting me for disturbing him. He’d claimed Erik’s side of the bed as his, and I was content to let him have it.
“Morning beautiful!” Renly’s sing-song voice called as I padded down the hall.
“Hmm,” I grumbled, lifting my hand in greeting and disappearing into the bathroom. After peeing and splashing cold water on my face, I joined Ren on the couch. “What time is it?” I sank onto the couch gingerly.
“Seven o’clock,” he answered, holding out the second mug, almost like some kind of peace offering.
I blinked at him, taking the mug into my hands. “You realize that I don’t usually get out of bed until eleven on Saturdays, right? Especially not after a night of drinking mojitos.” Remembering last night, I looked around the apartment. “Where’d Kelsey go?”
“Wow,” Renly tittered, shaking his head with amusement. “She left before you crashed—don’t you remember? She had Elliott pick her up because she missed him.”
“Oh, right.” I wrinkled my nose. Now I remembered. Kelsey had shown up about an hour after we got home with the pizza—miraculously, we managed to save her some.
Renly made another batch of mojitos, I put on some music, and the rest was kind of a blur. There was a lot of talking—I could remember bits and pieces of conversations and plenty of laughter, too.
At some point during the night, Kelsey decided she missed Elliott and drunk dialed him, begging him to join us. Only, Elliott wasn’t totally into the whole mojitos and girl talk thing, so Kelsey had just ended up bailing. I didn’t last much longer.
“Are you joining me at the gym this morning?” Ren asked, sipping his coffee with an air of innocence.
“You would have had better luck waiting until eleven to ask me that question,” I replied, giving him a stony look over my mug.
“I’ve got to visit Nan before I head home,” Renly said.
I winced, feeling bad for momentarily forgetting the real reason for my best friend’s visit. “All right,” I sighed, pausing to drain half my mug. “Let me get ready.”
I couldn’t afford a gym membership, which was fine by me. I had no use for one, as I only really went when Renly dragged me. I preferred marathon reading to running, and the sprinting I was into involved my laptop and a glass of wine.
In high school, Ren had been just as rigorous with his fitness goals. He’d been a little chubby throughout middle school, and he later made it his mission to get fit. He’d maintained his fitness-loving lifestyle in college and beyond, while I’d let my membership expire and was content to not haul ass to the gym every morning. Today, though, I’d make an exception, because that was what friends did.
We ended up driving to Cobourg to go to the gym chain Renly had a membership at. He signed me in as a guest, and we split up to use the locker rooms before meeting at the treadmills.
“You’ve got an evil soul, Ren,” I sighed, pressing buttons on the treadmill to get it moving. I planned on going my own pace—blessedly slow. There was no way I’d be able to keep up with him—he spent an hour every single morning working out—but at least I was supportive.
I watched him increase the speed and incline on his treadmill, and I waited patiently for him to warm up. All it took for me to spill my guts was good pizza and a few mojitos, but Ren was more likely to talk while he worked out. It was as if he had to keep his body busy to discuss the inner workings of his mind.
His quirk always struck me as a little peculiar, but everyone was different. Kelsey was tight-lipped about her deeper feelings and emotions, but she’d sing like a canary when she was behind the wheel.
While I waited, I speed-walked, taking frequent sips of water to combat my dehydration. Hitting the gym this early on a regular day felt like torture to me but hitting the gym this early after a night of mojito drinking was brutal.
Ren didn’t seem bothered in the slightest; he was full-on jogging and hadn’t broken a sweat. Meanwhile, I’d started sweating the moment I walked up to the treadmill.
Nevertheless, I would endure, because judging by the heaviness in Ren’s gaze, something was eating my friend.
“You know, you think you know someone, and they do something so out in left field that you’re wondering what the fuck?” Ren randomly blurted, the corner of his lips pulled down in a frown.
“Care to fill me in?” I huffed, already out of breath from my limited efforts. Maybe I should consider reinstating my membership—I was completely out of shape, and I didn’t think I could blame last night’s mojitos for it. Perhaps the eight months of shitty food and minimal activity were the cause.
Renly sighed heavily. “Just drama with Brian,” he replied, increasing the speed on his treadmill again. Not to be outdone, I turned mine up by two notches.
“What did he do?”
Brian was Renly’s boyfriend, and the reason he stayed in Oakville, landing his fantastic job.
“He keeps dropping the M bomb.” Ren turned his head to look at me, his brown eyes wide and a little fearful.
“So? What’s wrong with marriage?”
“Everything’s wrong with it,” he retorted, shaking his head. “The whole institution is flawed. Not to mention, I don’t want things to change. When we got together, Brian was on the same page as me—marriage and kids weren’t even a thought in his pretty little head. Now, he can’t stop talking about weddings and babies.”
He shivered as if Brian longed for a murder spree not a domesticated life with him.
“Oh, gee, how terrible. You’ve got someone who wants to spend the rest of their life with you and raise children. How horrendous,” I responded dryly, arching my brow to show him I was only teasing.
“I don’t want kids.” Ren frowned. “And I don’t need a piece of paper to prove I’m in love with someone.”
“But if Brian does?” I pointed out gently, sending him a beseeching gaze. “And if you really are unmovable on both those things, you should talk to him. He deserves to know.”
“Ugh, I know. You’re totally right. I just…I don’t know what to say to him.”
“The truth.” I shrugged. My thoughts unwillingly went to Erik. I’d planned our entire life together before I even realized he didn’t want any of the same things I did—or at least, he didn’t want them with me. That had been quite the punch to the heart and the pride.
In hindsight, I was beginning to realize he had done me a favour, but it didn’t make the prospect of starting over with someone new any less intimidating.
“What if the truth breaks us up?” Renly voiced, looking at me with uncertainty.
“Brian is awesome and so are you, but ultimately, you guys are at a fork in the road, and you may end up having to take different paths. It sucks, but…what else can you do?”
“How’d you get to be so smart?” He shook his head, hiding a proud little smile, although his irises were tinged with sadness.
“I got dumped?” I shrugged, pausing the treadmill to guzzle more water. I was sweating profusely, but we’d only been there for twenty minutes. Not that I was watching the clock.
Ren stopped his machine too. He lifted his water bottle and drank from it, watching me with a peculiar look on his face. “I like this new you.” He stepped off the treadmill, and I followed him over to the weights, frowning a little.
“What was wrong with the old me?”
“Nothing was wrong with the old you.” Renly arched a brow. “Except that tumour you had for a while.”
“What tumour?” Ren gave me a pointed look. “Oh, right. Him. Yeah, many ways, things are better without him. I just kind of miss having someone around. Waking up to coffee was pretty mint.”
“Well, keep your eyes on the prize, and remember: squats are your best friend,” he responded, winking at me as he tossed a large exercise ball in my direction.
“What are you trying to say?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
Ren let out a huff, halfway between a sigh of exasperation and a laugh. “You have a great ass, Gwen. But pizza will make it doughy, so do squats.”
“I just ran on the treadmill.”
“You were speed walking at best.” He laughed. “Besides, you don’t need to focus on cardio so much. If you do, you’ll risk losing that great ass. Squats will just build it up.”
“I don’t think it needs any more building up,” I muttered, sullenly heading to the mirror with the exercise ball.
Alaric
I held open the door, and Sawyer twirled around on her tip-toes, spinning into the foyer. We walked up the stairs to the dance studio, her little voice chattering happily about all the things I’d missed out on since the last weekend we spent together.
The room was packed with miniature ballerinas and their parents, mostly mothers, although I spotted a handful of men. All eyes went to us as we walked in, and I was aware of the scrutiny of some of the other parents.
I didn’t exactly fit the dance parent mold.
“Hi, Miss Claire!” Sawyer said, coming to a stop in front of her dance instructor, a young woman in her late twenties. I’d met her a few times before in passing, after the few dance recitals I’d managed to find out about in time to catch.
“I believe we met after the Christmas recital? Nice to see you again,” she said, smiling warmly at me before her gaze dropped to Sawyer. She appraised my daughter’s hair and raised her eyebrows, impressed at the tight ballerina bun I’d wrangled her long locks into ten minutes before leaving the house earlier that morning.
A lot of women instantly doubted a man’s ability to dress his children and do hair. I’d never wanted to be the kind of father that added to that stereotype, so I didn’t shy away from learning how to do those things. If I could weld at great heights, there was no reason why I couldn’t put my own daughter’s hair into a ballerina bun for her dance class.
But I had no doubt Cheryl had probably warned Claire that she’d need to fix whatever disaster of a hairstyle I attempted. Hopefully, it’d get back to Cheryl, and maybe one day she’d even lay off naysaying my abilities.
Claire smiled warmly at Sawyer. “Why don’t you go line up with the other students?” she suggested, tilting her head toward the classroom.
“Okay! See you soon, Daddy!” Little arms wrapped around my leg, and she was off—joining her friends as they filed into the studio.
“Classes are an hour long. Parents can feel free to leave and come back at the end of the class, or they can hang out in the waiting room.” Claire said, gesturing to the seats arranged in the waiting room. “There’s a little café down the street that serves good coffee.”
Chairs were filling quickly, so I grabbed one against the far wall facing the classroom door. I pulled out my cell phone, intent on keeping my head low. Technically, this was still Cheryl’s territory—and it felt like it, with the way a lot of the other parents were looking at me.
No doubt she’d filled them in on her version of events. That was just the kind of person Cheryl was; she always had to come out as the saint, the innocent party, while I was always the bad guy.
“Are you Sawyer’s dad?” the woman sitting in the row of plastic chairs across from me asked, staring me up and down. She had blonde hair chopped in a bob, and deep brown eyes that assessed me keenly.
“Yeah,” I responded, working to keep my tone polite and friendly. Cheryl would have a field day if the other dance parents’ complained about my attitude.
>
“Oh, that’s lovely. I see where she gets her gorgeous blonde locks from.” The woman giggled flirtatiously. She moved to the seat beside me and thrust her hand at me. “I’m Gabriella’s mom, Cindy. Sawyer’s a head taller than my Gabby, and she’s in the 95 percentile!”
“Nice to meet you,” I managed, shaking her hand. Cindy’s thin lips stretched into a big smile.
“Sawyer’s mentioned more than a few times that you moved closer. I think Cheryl said you were from Ottawa?”
“Yeah, Ottawa,” I answered stiffly, uncomfortable with this complete stranger knowing facts about me.
“How are you liking Northumberland County?” Cindy inquired.
“It’s nice,” I said, hoping she’d pick up on my two-worded replies and drop the interrogation. But she didn’t get the hint, and for the next hour, Gabriella’s mom talked at me. Not really to me, but at me, telling me about her daughter Gabby’s progress with dance and any other thought that fluttered through her head.
Aside from the occasional nod of agreement or hum, Cindy didn’t require me to add much more to the conversation. Which was fine by me.
Eyeing the clock, I let out a sigh of relief and stood when the hour was up, and the doors to the dance room opened.
Miss Claire stood in the doorway, watching while the students filtered out. I made a move to walk away, but Cindy’s fingers gripped my bicep lightly. Pausing, I turned to look at her, trying to conceal my irritation.
“We should get the girls together for a playdate some time,” she suggested hopefully, her fingers loosening and her hand dropping to toy with her hair.
I let out a tempered sigh, trying to figure out the best way to shut Cindy’s hope down without coming across as a dick. “Cheryl’s in charge of playdates. Unfortunately, I only get Sawyer every other weekend, so our time is…”
“Short,” Cindy finished, smiling with understanding. “I totally get it. I’m a single parent, too. We could always get together during your kid-free time,” she added.
“I don’t think my girlfriend would like that,” I said, lying through my teeth. I didn’t have a girlfriend, but I had zero interest in Cindy, and I wanted to stop that thought in its tracks before she got the wrong idea.
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