He’s standing at the north edge of the large rectangle of lawn, one foot propped on the curb that separates the lawn from the concrete that covers the rest of Dilworth Park. His hands are in his pockets, elbows bent at an easy angle. He doesn’t appear to be watching anything, just standing there. So weird. My steps falter. I’m unprepared to confront him here, outside. So I stop and watch him for a moment, still confused about what he’s doing.
He takes one hand out of his pocket and rubs at his forehead, his face tense, like he might have a headache. Oh my God. Maybe he’s sick. He was rubbing at his forehead on his birthday too. And in his office, when he broke up with me. He’s probably really sick and he didn’t want to put me through that. Idiot. I’d walk through anything with him.
Then a petite blonde woman a few years older than me walks towards him. She’s in jeans and boots, flat with cute laces. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and she’s zipped up in a light winter jacket. He sees her and his face clears, a wide smile replacing the worry that was there a moment ago.
Fucking hell.
Forty-Eight
My stomach churns, the coffee-and-potato-chip combination doing nothing to help me at the moment. My eyes are glued to the scene, and I momentarily forget that I’m standing in plain sight watching this unfold, not even considering a place to hide. Not that there is one. There’s nothing but concrete, open lawn, a half-dismantled ice rink and a couple of entrances to the subway system covering the entire area.
So I stand rooted to the spot I’m in, just staring.
Which allows me to clearly see a small brown-haired boy dash past the blonde and throw himself at Sawyer. And because I’m so lucky, it gives me a direct view of Sawyer catching the boy and swinging him up in his arms, precisely as the traffic lulls, letting me hear the boy as clearly as if I were sitting in a cinema with state-of-the-art surround sound.
“Daddy!”
Don’t worry. My luck holds out. Because I get a glimpse of Sawyer’s face too. Of the happiness, reverence and devotion spelled out across his features, clear as day.
I’m not confused.
This isn’t a joke.
That’s his kid.
His walking, talking kid. A person. A child I’ve never heard a single reference to.
The blonde catches up and leans in, ruffling the kid’s hair. The movement causes Sawyer’s eyes to turn in my direction, landing on me. It jabs my stomach like a professional blow.
I whirl around, heading back to the crosswalk, but the light is green and cars are whizzing past. I’m trapped on this side of the street, at least for another couple minutes, which is a lifetime too long. I run down the stairs instead, the stairs leading to the subway, enclosed by a fancy glass ski-slope-looking structure from the street. I grab a handrail as I race down the steps. I probably need another twenty steps before I can disappear from view. Focus. One foot in front of the other.
“Everly!”
Oh, he wants to talk now? Yeah, no.
I hit the bottom step and freeze, unsure which way to turn. I’ve never actually used the Philadelphia subway system before. I quickly figure out the flow of pedestrian traffic though, and fall in line, blindly following the people in front of me. Until we reach a turnstile and I realize I don’t have a transportation card or whatever one needs to swipe to make the gate lift and grant me escape. I stop dead, causing the person behind me to knock into me with an, “Oof.”
I mutter an apology and move to the side and I have a full three seconds of hope that I’ve ditched Sawyer before he’s there, his hand on my arm.
I throw up on his shoes.
He holds my hair, a perfect gentleman, while I throw up everything that I’ve eaten today on his stupid shoes.
“Now you’ve ruined Pringles for me too. I hate you!” I push away from him, wiping my mouth with my sleeve, and walk back to the stairs. I go up a lot slower than I went down. Arms crossed over my chest, chin down. He’s right behind me. I know he’s there but he’s quiet, just following me.
I get back to ground level and look around. The blonde and the little boy are gone.
“Where’d they go?” I circle back to him in a flurry. “They were just here, I saw them.”
Wait. Maybe I’m just crazy. Like I’m having a mental break or something. I probably need a head CT.
“I sent them home, back to my place.”
No, not crazy. He’s a dick.
“Everly, please,” he says, bringing my attention to his face. “I’m sorry.”
His face, that’s the Sawyer I know. Sincere. Honest.
“What in the hell is going on?” I ask him, my eyes darting back and forth across his face.
“Why are you here?”
“Why am I here? Fuck you, Sawyer.” I shove a finger in his chest. “Why is that kid calling you Daddy? Who is that woman? You can’t be married. Finn wouldn’t have been happy for us when we started dating if you already had a wife. My brother would have mentioned it for sure. Unless you’ve been hiding her in another city. Oh, my God. Do you have a secret family, Sawyer? Or did you already replace me with a new girlfriend? With a kid who calls you Daddy? How long has this been going on?”
“Okay. Slow down, breathe.” He nods to the cafe across the park. “Let’s sit.”
I shake my head.