But that thought was quickly chased away by the overwhelm of his presence, and the way his whole body pivoted toward me like a magnetic pull. His gaze landed on me, and my breath suspended.
Oh, God.I’d known I’d have to face him again—that was the whole reason I’d moved back here. But I hadn’t expected it to be so soon or so suddenly or, most importantly, before I’d gotten the chance to figure out what I was going to say to him.
“Sawyer.”
His name left my lips, a whisper, maybe a whimper—a pathetic, ridiculous sound that I was grateful he couldn’t hear, still on the opposite side of the cafe.
But something lit in his gaze, and then he was crossing the space toward me, forcing me to steel my spine, even as my pulse ticked faster.
He looked so…Sully. Good but different—changed. Even since the night in Boston. It was clear from the hard lines on his face and his red-rimmed eyes that he was angry, but whether it was directed at me or the strange man in the corner, I had no idea. Did he hate that I was here? That I’d invaded his…I don’t know, territory? Had his mom already talked to him? Was he furious about the idea that I might move into the Maple Street house?
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low.
The question surprised me, given the look on his face. He was closer now, and his gaze raked over me—assessing. When it finally met mine, I had to clutch the back of the chair to steady myself.
The last time Sully’s eyes had clashed momentarily with mine, his gaze had been wild, his hair messy, his jaw taut. Most importantly, his hands had been on my hips while he drove inside me repeatedly, fucking me with an intensity that I’d known would ruin me.
And it had.
It had also, coincidentally, gotten me pregnant.
Oh my God, I’m pregnant with Sullivan’s child.
It had hit me before, of course. But this was different—him, here.Me, here, but altered because his atoms, his DNA, the things that made him who he was, had become a part of me. It was such an odd juxtaposition, feeling further away from him than I ever had while the biology of it all might say something different.
It also felt unbelievably right.
“Yeah, yeah.” I hated hownotokay I sounded. “I’m good. I just need someone to help me jump start my car. But you didn’t have to come?—”
“I can drive you where you need to go,” he cut in, and I frowned.
“I’m sure a jump will be fine,” I countered, and my ex-boyfriend scowled.
“Fine. Let’s go jump your car, then.” Sully, maintaining a businesslike approach to all this, reached around me, snatching my bag from where it sat on a chair. “And then you can tell me what the hell you’re doing here.”
Oh. Great. Awesome. This was goingsowell.
I blew a breath out between my teeth. “It’s good to see you, too, Sullivan.”
Sully’s shoulder brushed mine as he repositioned, and my stomach flipped. And then my pulse spiked, and my blood flow changed its course. Suddenly, my arteries were carrying blood into my heart, and my veins were carting it away. Or something like that, somethingthatmonumental and possibly disastrous.
Most notably, though, it sank in just how unprepared I was to see him. To be this close to him again, close enough that his familiar cologne wafted around me, and his touch disarmed me.
But still, I risked meeting his gaze for a second time.
A mistake, truly.
Because there was something unhinged about it, reckless, like he was handling this just as well as I was. Which was to say…badly.
“Goodis not an adjective I would use to describe how it is seeing you again, Eleanor,” he finally said, his voice so low and deep that, considering our proximity, I could practicallyfeelthe rumble in his chest.
“What adjectivewouldyou use?” I asked against my better judgment.
His jaw ticked as he stared at me, and I imagined words flooding his mind, none of which were likely in my favor.
“You know I’m not good with things like that, El.” He sounded irritated that I was making him use them—words, descriptors. “More of a numbers guy.”
“Then tell me some numbers.”
