His expression is a question mark.
“That’s what my therapist would say. When we’re in times of emotional stress, we reach for old tools. Even if those tools aren’t good for us anymore. I reached for pranks.”
He gives a single slow nod. “I guess I did too.”
“Anyway, if I wasn’t prepared to see you in the flesh, I definitely wasn’t ready for you to bring up the marriage pact. But you said something important when I was here last. If this place is a bubble, then why are Ben and Natalie married with a kid? Why have they built a life together, most of which they built away from here? If you can’t meet your person when you’re a dumb teenager, why are they so happy now?”
I swallow some anxiety—alotof anxiety—and meet his eyes. “I’ve thought a lot about that this summer. Sometimes it feels like the only thing I’ve thought about.”
His expression has softened from intent but polite listening to something else. Understanding? No. Recognition. It gives me more courage.
“It’s not just this summer. You’ve always been on my mind, even when I thought you weren’t. Dates that always fell short because it wasn’t as easy as it was with you. Relationships that didn’t work because the same chemistry wasn’t there.” His eyes glint, and I look away, not sure I can continue if our eyes stay locked.
“I’ve thought about that all summer too, and when I put it all together, I came up with one answer.”
“What’s the answer?” His voice is low and silky now. This is not College Sawyer anymore. This is Grown Sawyer, and I literally gulp. Like a freaking cartoon. He watches the motion of my throat like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s seen.
“You were right. That’s the answer. You were right when you lured me here in May and proposed giving this another shot. I should have taken advantage of that time. I should have gone into it with a more open mind, not like it was a game. And if you’re willing, I’d like a do-over.”
He leans forward, his eyes alight, an almost-smile flickering on one side of his mouth. “Explain.”
It’s easy to see how this calm, self-possessed Sawyer has the beginning of an empire to his credit when he’s not yet thirty. I deal with big shot corporate execs all the time, and he has the vibe of a man who gets exactly what he wants.
“One day. Three dates. At the end of the day, we kiss. If you can say you don’t feel anything, we walk away and never speak of it again because I’d be too mortified.”
His half smile appears. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“Right here. I’ve already talked to Natalie, and I have it all planned.” I’d even shipped a few things in advance to make sure it would all work. My stomach fizzes as I think about Date Two, a couples yoga session involving lots of entwining and staring into each other’s eyes. I plannedgooddates.
He studies the floor, then leans back in the armchair. “No deal.”
Now my stomach drops, all fizziness gone. “I’m sorry, what?”
“No deal. I’ve had time to think about it too, and you were right. This won’t work. We won’t work.” He says it so calmly. I imagine it’s how he shoots down business deals that insult him. He has no expression on his face, and I have no idea what to do next.
Between my confession of feelings, my intricate date planning, and my practiced monologues, I had never pictured him saying no.
“No?” I have to check because it’s not clicking.
“No.”
I have no idea what to do. I glance around the room like there’s an answer, my eyes landing on the deck outside. That’s it. Escape. I start toward the front door, desperate to get out of here.
Sawyer stands, and I stop when I’m at the threshold of the living room. “I understand,” I say, even though I don’t. At all.
“Do you?” It’s like he’s reading my mind.
“Yeah. I get it. Sorry I barged in.” Is this where he changes his mind? Where he decides his pride isn’t worth it and begs me to stay?
“No problem. Thanks for taking the time to stop by.” His tone is polite again, his body relaxed as he waits for me to let myself out, hands in the pockets of his shorts, like he’s standing in line for a hot dog at a Central Park street cart.
“Sure. Of course. Least I could do. I’ll see you around sometime.”
“Next Mendoza baby, maybe.” His smile is still casual.
