by Lea Coll
“MORNING SUNSHINE,” SAWYER SAID WHEN I held my phone up to my ear. It was my birthday and I hadn’t woken up until my phone buzzed.
I’m pretty sure I grunted in response. I could barely function in the morning before coffee.
“I called to wish you a Happy Birthday.”
At his words, my heart sped up. “You did?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. My own parents and sister didn’t call to wish me a Happy Birthday.
“Yes. Happy Birthday.”
“That’s literally the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” My mouth usually had no filter, but it was worse before I was fully awake.
My words were met with silence for a minute and I checked the phone to see if the connection was lost. “Sawyer?”
He finally cleared his throat. “I’m really glad I called, then. Have a good day and I’ll see you this afternoon.” His voice was low and husky and I felt it through my whole body.
“Thank you, Sawyer.” I didn’t want to get off the phone yet, but maybe it was too heavy to tell your fake boyfriend your own family doesn’t call with birthday wishes first thing in the morning.
The thrill of that phone call stayed with me all morning while I drove around town and the surrounding area visiting gardens with the tourists and the garden society. Accompanying the tour was great for getting information and quotes for the paper, but I was dusty and exhausted when it was over. I had just enough time to drive home, shower, and throw on a yellow sundress with sandals to meet my friends. I threw my bathing suit, a towel, and sunscreen into my large tote bag before I was back in my car driving into town. The girls had taken over the planning of my birthday festivities and I was told to show up at the marina at one.
As I drove down the gravel drive toward the marina and its parking lot, I saw Sawyer resting against his bike wearing a polo shirt, khaki shorts, and boat shoes. My mouth was suddenly very dry. I parked and checked for a bottle of water in my bag, which I forgot. I got out of my car, throwing my bag over my shoulder, and walked toward Sawyer.
I swallowed hard as I approached. “You drove your motorcycle here?”
“Yeah, it’s not far.”
I nodded as he pushed off the motorcycle, his hands cupping my head, and leaned down for a soft kiss. “Hello, birthday girl.”
“Hi,” I said breathlessly. This guy was dreamy—there was no other word for it. ‘Will you be my boyfriend?’ was running through my head on endless repeat, but I refused to ruin my birthday with honesty.
“Are you ready for your birthday party to begin?”
I nodded. He’d straightened but kept his hands in my hair and his chest pressed against mine. His proximity was making me dizzy. I wanted to go up on tiptoes and claim his mouth with mine again, but I wasn’t sure if one of our friends would walk by. And if I kissed him the way I wanted too, no one would think this was fake.
His hand traveled down my shoulder and arm, until he interlaced his fingers with mine. “Let’s go, then.”
A rush went through me as we walked hand in hand down the dock to Jack’s families’ sailboat, named Lucy. I saw the girls on the boat already and Luke and Jack standing on the dock next to it. Luke turned to see us, his brows raised. “Well, hello.” He tugged me away from Sawyer and hugged me. “Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks, Luke.” I pulled away and smiled at Jack, wondering what Sawyer had told the guys about our situation. Did they know it was all for show?
“The birthday girl is here,” Ashley’s voice came from below deck.
Jack pulled the boat closer to the dock, so I could step over the lifeline and onto the boat. Ashley pulled me in for a hug. “Happy Birthday! I can’t believe you had to work this morning.”
“Yeah, Bob gives me the night and weekend events usually,” I said.
“Aren’t most events on nights and the weekend?” Ashley asked.
“Yes, but I like to make myself indispensable.” I figure if I do all of the work no one else wants to do, he’ll keep me around. I was able to do my job using the dictation program but if I left I wasn’t sure I’d have the same accommodations.
I hugged Emma and Samantha, and we sat on the benches while the guys got the boat ready to sail.
Samantha opened a container of watermelon triangles she’d cut and set it on the cockpit table. “There’s cans of White Claw Hard Seltzer in the cooler below.”
“I’ll grab a few,” Emma said.
When Emma climbed below and Samantha stepped onto the dock to speak to Jack about the trip, Ashley whispered, “So, walking here hand in hand with Sawyer, huh?”
“We’re pretending, remember?” I asked.
“I thought it was to impress the tenure committee, so why pretend in front of us?” Ashley asked.
“Huh. Good question.” I hadn’t even thought of it like that. My gaze went to Sawyer, who was loosening the lines running from the boat to the dock. When he noticed me, he smiled and winked. Turning my attention to Ashley, I said, “He’s probably being nice to me because it’s my birthday.”
The guys boarded and Jack shouted orders to throw back some lines to the pilings as he steered us away from the dock. “We’ll head out a little and then hoist the sails.”
“Aye Aye Captain,” Luke said, saluting him.
“That’s right,” Jack said. “There’s only one man in charge on this boat—”
“And it’s not the sheriff.” Emma tugged Luke down to the bench beside her.
“There’s music on the waterfront tonight if you want to head there when we get back,” Ashley said to me.
My eyes shot to Sawyer’s, and he seemed to be waiting for a response. “Sure that sounds nice.” I didn’t want to be alone on my birthday. The key was to keep busy so I didn’t have to think about how my parents essentially abandoned me. Ironically, my phone buzzed with an incoming text right then from my dad. We still need to meet up to talk about your mother. I’d completely forgotten my promise to him. There was a time when my mother’s issues had consumed my life. That was the main reason I’d moved out on my own. I needed separation from that. It didn’t escape my notice that there were no happy birthday wishes in the text.
I tucked my phone into my bag so I didn’t need to hear it buzzing again. I leaned back on the bench enjoying the joking and ribbing of my friends, the sun on my face, and the slight breeze in my hair. My family may have abandoned me, but I had great friends and now something more with Sawyer. Life was good.
Sawyer came to stand in front of me. “Want to sit on the bow?” He gestured toward the front of the boat. Then lower, he said, “It’s pretty crowded.”
It was tight with eight people in the cockpit and he was making it clear to our friends we were together. “Sure.”
He grabbed my hand and led me to the front of the boat. We carefully stepped over the lines until we came to the bow. He sat down first, his feet on the deck of the boat and his knees spread wide. “There isn’t a lot of space up here either. Sit in front of me.”
I sat carefully between his legs, worried this was a bad idea as he pulled me so that my back rested against his front. He wrapped his arms around my body, his warmth and scent surrounded me. The wind was strong at the front of the boat, blowing my hair.
Sawyer’s breath tickled the shell of my ear when he asked softly, “Are you having a good birthday?”
I turned my head slightly my lips inches from his. “I am.”
“I’m glad.”
I badly wanted to close the distance between our lips but our friends were here and I was sure they were watching everything we did. It was bad enough we were cuddling. I’d hear about this later.
We sat in silence for a while, enjoying the waves crashing against the boat and the wind in our faces until Luke called, “Hey, Sawyer want to steer for awhile?”
“Yeah, sure,” he yelled to Luke. Then to me, Sawyer whispered, “We’ll continue this later.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t want to stop whatever was g
oing on between us. I followed him back to the cockpit, catching the knowing stares from the girls. I admired Sawyer standing, legs spread to keep his balance on the rocking boat, his hands confidently gripping the wheel. How had I ever missed how defined his forearms were? My eyes traveled up his biceps which stretched his polo shirt to his shoulders to find him watching me. He smiled and winked.
I shook my head at him. When had I thought he was shy and awkward around people? Because he wasn’t. Not with me anyway. I kept my eyes on the water and other boats after that. I was confident everyone could see through our act and know that what I felt for Sawyer was real.
Sawyer kept his distance the rest of the afternoon but I tried to ignore it as I spent much needed time with the girls. After several hours, and chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting, courtesy of Samantha, we headed back to the docks for dinner. Stepping onto the dock, I could hear the music drifting from the pavilion in the park already.
The staff at the Fish House pushed several tables together for us out on the deck overlooking the water. Sawyer sat next to me, his arm over the back of my chair. “Are you still having a good birthday?”
I smiled. “The best.”
“Save a dance for me tonight,” Sawyer whispered into my ear as the conversation went on around us at the table.
“Always,” I promised, hoping that wasn’t too much. The joy of this day and the alcohol in my system made me bold. A tray of hot steaming crabs was dumped unceremoniously in the middle of our red checkered table cloth, diverting my attention from Sawyer. Eating crabs was not romantic, but it was the perfect ending to my birthday.
We got right to work cracking the shells, pulling the guts and yucky stuff out before getting to the white crab meat. “These are totally worth all of the work and cuts from the shells.” The Old Bay crab seasoning smelled and tasted wonderful, but stung when the shells inevitably sliced into my fingers.
Sawyer glanced at me. “Definitely.”
Just then a shell sliced into my finger and I winced. Sawyer leaned in and sucked my finger into his mouth. My heart stuttered in my chest and I couldn’t look away. Then he pulled away, winked and said, “All better.”
My finger was better but my heart was in danger of falling for this guy. I quickly glanced around the table but no one seemed to notice our interaction.
When I’d eaten as many crabs as I could, I went to the bathroom to wash my hands.
Sawyer stood waiting for me at the table when I returned. “Ready for that dance?”
“Yes.” I placed my hand in his and we followed our group of friends over to Watkins Park to listen to the music. They hung back as Sawyer pulled me into the crowd to the center and into his arms. “I thought you didn’t like dancing.”
“But you do.” He tilted his head down so that his voice whispered over the shell of my ear, pulling me tight to his body.
Something clicked in my head when he said that. No one other man had ever cared about my preferences. I tended to cater to them, morphing into whatever woman they wanted me to be, and maybe that was the real issue. I couldn’t be myself with these guys, but with Sawyer, I was. He allowed me to be who I was. I felt light-headed and dizzy all of a sudden, my hands clammy, and a chill ran through my body. As I took a few breaths to steady myself, I knew without a doubt that I wanted to tell Sawyer my feelings. Nothing good ever happened unless you took a risk but I wanted to wait until we were alone. “You want to come to dinner at my house one night this week?”
Sawyer pulled back, looking at my face. “Yeah. You need help with your course?”
That stopped me for a second because I hadn’t even been thinking of that. “Yeah, and other things.”
In the meantime, I listened to the slow music pouring off the stage and drifting over the water, the laughter of other couples as they danced around us, and reveled in the feel of Sawyer’s breath on my neck as he held me close, his hands on me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had a more perfect day or moment. No matter what happened at my house later in the week, I’d always have this.
I’D INVITED SAWYER OVER FOR dinner on Thursday night after his rowing practice. I was ready to hand my heart to him because of one amazing birthday. We’d been dating—dinner, sailing, working together, attending rowing races—and any girl would have gotten caught up in the moment. Who could resist a sexy professor who rode a motorcycle and was nice, thoughtful, and sweet? He was too good to be true, which was why he was my fake boyfriend and not my real boyfriend.
But I was ready to ruin everything by revealing myself to him. I looked shakily around my tiny cottage, trying to see it how he would. My grandmother’s faded yellow couches sat in the living room, and a tiny television I never watched sat on my old childhood dresser. Built-in shelves lined one whole wall with several pictures of me laughing with my grandmother.
I’d only ever hosted one girls’ night here since I had moved in, but I had pride in this home, the one I bought with only my grandmother’s help, and filled with her furniture and a few of my touches over the years. I waited in the sunroom looking out over the backyard, my favorite room in the house.
The doorbell rang and I worried it was too soon to tell Sawyer the truth—that all this fake dating seemed real and I wanted more. I checked my appearance in the hall mirror before opening the door.
Sawyer stood in khaki pants and a white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and my eyes caught on his exposed forearms and the hair curling there. They were strong, masculine, and I immediately thought of him bracing himself as he hovered over me. I swallowed, trying to drag my eyes away from his arms to his face.
“Can I come in?” Sawyer asked.
“Oh yeah, sure,” I said, backing up to give him room to enter. But instead of passing me he paused in front of me, leaning down for a soft kiss.
Straightening, he said, “Thank you for inviting me to your home.”
He’d said those words like he knew how important it was for me to invite anyone to my home. Sure, he’d been here to pick me up before, but this was different. Ashley could have mentioned it but I chose to believe that he understood me like no one else. I had to believe that in order to reveal myself to him tonight. I drew in a shaky breath. “You’re welcome.”
I still stood with my hand on the door watching him walk through my living room. He zeroed in on the framed pictures on the bookshelf. “This is your grandmother?”
“Yeah.” I finally closed the front door with a soft click.
“You look so happy here. So free.” Still holding the frame in his hand, he looked at me.
“Yeah, she was fun to be around.”
“Like you.”
“Yeah, I guess she was a lot like me.” I felt a pang she wasn’t here for me to go to for advice anymore. To tell me my parents were idiots and I needed to move away from them. Live my own life one day. She was amazing and I realized for the first time I’d been lost since the day she died. She was my anchor when everything in my life was spiraling out of control. Locking in on Sawyer’s face I suddenly wanted him to be that for me.
He carefully placed the frame on the shelf and pulled me into his side, kissing the top of my head. “Why do I get the impression your grandmother was more of a parent to you than your actual parents?”
“Because she was,” I said softly.
He let it go, but I could tell he had more questions and I was ready to answer anything he asked, if he was receptive to my feelings. I just wasn’t sure where to start.
I slipped from his arms. “I made a chicken green bean casserole.” It was classic and easy. Something my grandmother made all of the time and it reminded me of her. I’d need that reminder tonight.
He followed me into my sunny yellow kitchen with aging white cabinets and appliances. Things were worn and cracked but clean. Checking the timer on the microwave, I pulled the casserole from the oven and placed it on the stove. I gathered plates and silverware to eat at the small iron table in my sunroom. It was
the only place I ever ate.
“Can I help?”
“Sure. Take these into the sunroom and set the little table?”
He took the silverware and napkins from me and walked through the sliding glass door to the room. I uncovered the casserole to allow the steam to rise.
“Want me to open the wine?” Sawyer asked.
“Yeah, that would be great.” I dished generous helpings of the casserole onto the dishes and carried them into the sunroom.
I took a seat and Sawyer walked in carrying two wine glasses filled with white wine, placing one in front of me. Then he sat across from me. “Thank you for making me dinner.”
I waved him off. “Like I said, it’s just a basic chicken and green bean casserole—one of my grandmother’s recipes.”
“Well, I eat everything, including the basics, so you’re in luck.”
I smiled, picking up my fork to dig in. I was nervous, unsure of the right moment to tell him the truth. If I should tell him the truth. I decided to start with something small and build up to it. “How are things going at school?”
“Good. I have my tenure portfolio ready to submit. Classes are winding down and the students are worried about finals. So I’m getting a lot more office visits.”
“I remember those days.” The panic about taking tests—embarrassment that I’d received special accommodations to take the test in a different room—trying to keep it a secret from the other students.
It was time to stop hiding. We finished the last few bites and I jumped up to clear the dishes. “I have dessert, but I thought we could talk first.”
“Okay, sure.” He sounded tentative and I didn’t blame him. What could I have to talk to him about? We were only fake dating. This wasn’t real. Was I making a huge mistake by telling him everything?