I walk him out front, where Edith is sat feeding some of the newborn kittens from a bottle. “What’s the verdict?” she asks from the rocker.
“I’ll put a rush on the blood work, see if I can give you a call tomorrow,” Sawyer says.
Edith nods approvingly. “I like this guy already.”
“Did you just move to the area?” I ask. I haven’t seen him around. Sawyer nods.
“I did my residency training up in Chicago, but I couldn’t stand the cold. Below freezing every other day.” He shudders at the mention.
“Well, welcome to town.” I smile. “I promise, the weather’s better here. Until it gets to August, and you’ll be dreaming about the cold again.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know a good place to get a bite?” Sawyer asks. “Nothing fancy, just a burger and beer.”
“You’ll want Dixie’s.” I suggest. “A few blocks past the harbor. It’s a casual crowd, but they’ve got a great selection on tap, and there’s always Springsteen on the jukebox.”
“Well in that case, I’ll have to check it out. Want to join me there later?” he asks casually. “I have to go check on some horses out in PLACE, but I could meet you after.”
“Sure,” I agree, surprised. “I could use some of her chili fries.”
“Great.” He smiles. “I’ll see you there at eight. It’s a date.”
Wait, what?
I don’t have time to react before he shakes hands with Edith and heads back to his truck. As the wheels crunch on gravel, I stare after him. “Date?” I repeat, blinking. Edith snorts with laughter.
“Girl, you wouldn’t know a pass if he put it in writing first.”
“He didn’t mean it like that.” I shake my head. “He’s new in town, probably just looking to make friends.”
Edith smirks. “Whatever you think.”
I look back at the driveway, feeling a rush of guilt. I shouldn’t have given him the wrong impression, not with memories Finn still whirling in my mind – and my heart.
Except that Finn is ancient history. He’s spent the past five years doing whatever he wants – with whoever he wants. I’m allowed to go on a date if I want, especially with a handsome, sweet, funny guy like Sawyer. Finn waltzing back shouldn’t change that, so why am I letting it get to me?
He’s made it clear that he’s moved on. Why shouldn’t I?
Three.
I can hear the chaos from the house before I even make it up the front path. I open the door, and right away I’m hit with the noise from music on the radio, a cartoon on TV, a baby crying from the next room, and the sound of a dog barking wildly.
“Kit got a booboo,” Lottie says, appearing in the doorway with a baby wailing in her arms. She looks frazzled, with paint spilled on her shirt and something sticky in her blond, choppy hair. “Can you take him for a sec? I haven’t had a minute all day. He puked over me this morning, and I can’t get it out.”
“Come here, you little munchkin!” I happily lift my nephew from her arms and she lets out a huge sigh of relief.
“Look who’s here,” she coos to him. “Auntie Eva will make everything OK.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Rock star.” Lottie scampers upstairs, and a moment later, I hear the shower sound. I rock Kit gently. He wails, his face red and fists clenched.
“Bad day, huh? I know how you feel.” I distract him with a toy and take him through to the living room, setting him down in his pen to play. Soon enough, the tears are forgotten, and I can keep one eye on the baby and start tidying up around the room. By the time Lottie comes back down with wet hair and fresh sweatpants, the place looks half-way back to normal again.
“Finally, I don’t smell like barf!” she declares. “That’s the one thing they don’t tell you about having kids. Sure, they warn you about the poop, and the sore boobs, and never sleeping again, but somehow I never got the part about smelling like a bad hangover twenty-four seven.” I feel a familiar ache, but I ignore it as she collapses on the couch with an exhausted sigh. “Anyway, how are you? What’s life like in the outside world, with people who can hold a decent conversation?”
“Fine,” I tell her, glossing over the epic, unsettling part of my day. “Work, the shelter, the usual.” I shrug. “I just came by to pick up that blue sweater, you know, the one with the V-neck?”
Lottie frowns. “I think Kit was using it as a blanket. I’ll go check.” She disappears into the laundry room, then emerges holding it up triumphantly. “Look, not even a stain on it.”
“Thanks.”
Lottie tosses it over. “When are you going to quit living out of a suitcase?”
“What, you want me to move in back here?” I laugh. Lottie looks around at the clutter of toys and baby gear.
“Maybe not. But don’t you get sick of moving every few months?”
I shrug. “I like it. It’s like an adventure, living in a new house every time.”