“Yeah, but…” Kristen’s eyes flick between us.
“You can figure it out,” he says.
“But…”
“Probably time for you to keep walkin’. I think you might’ve caused enough trouble.”
“Me?” Kristen’s mouth drops open, incredulous.“Me!That one”—she points her pink fingernail at me—“had a trash magazine publish lies about me!”
“The truth,” I correct her. “And a very watered-down version of it.”
“Did you?” Sawyer grins at me. “Sounds like my woman stood up for herself.”
I can’t help grinning back.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kristen snaps. “Am I interrupting a touching moment between the two of you?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Move.”
“What? No! Sawyer, we’re friends. Please. Don’t let her come between us—”
“You let her come between us with all your carryin’ on. I’ll always be thankful for you showin’ me some kindness when I was dealin’ with my shit a couple of years back, but after what you did… We’re not friends. Not anymore.” His arm wraps protectively around my waist. “Get upstairs, Elsie Hoskins,” he murmurs. “Don’t look back at her.”
I don’t.
Closed for a private function.
The sign hanging lopsidedin the cafe window isn’t meant for us.
Sawyer hesitates before he pushes open the glass door. He turns. “Now, a lot of people are here this mornin’,” he says. “You sure you’re feelin’ up to this?”
“I actually can’t wait.”
My heart is stuffed so full of happiness I’m wriggling.Friends!I’m not just going to have my beautiful man in my life, but friends as well. Every third Sunday. Hopefully, other days, too.
“You’ll tell me if it gets too much?” He drops a kiss on my temple. “We can disappear… Go for a walk along the beach…”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Pinch my hand if you change your mind.”
“I’m not going to pinch you!”
“You will if you want to get my attention. It’s hard to hear yourself think around that table once everyone gets talkin’.”
I arch on my tiptoes and brush a kiss over his lips. “Thank you for being patient with me.”
“And thank you,” he whispers back. “For bein’ patient with me. Love you.” He hugs me close before he smacks a gentle hand on my bottom. “Come on.”
I fuss about straightening the belt of my dress. “Are we late?”
“I know better than to be late with you, Elsie Hoskins.” He grins.
“We’re early?”
“Thirty whole minutes. I wanted to give you time to settle in before it gets rowdy.”
When he pushes open the door, laughter drifts in from the deck out back, but the main cafe is empty. Inside, a lone server scrambles for her tiny notebook before waving us through. The quiet feels like a buffer between me and the crowd waiting outside. I cling to it—and Sawyer—for one final deep breath before stepping through the doorway.
