Darlene
Back in my place, I changed out of my clothes and put on some yoga pants, and a black, dance camisole. I figured my best bet for keeping ahead of massage-soreness was to stretch out every night.
I sat on the floor in my little living area, between the couch and TV stand, and began a mini-routine, but I didn’t get very far. My cupboards were bare and I was hungrier than I realized. I threw on my gray sweater, my boots; shouldered my purple backpack, and headed out.
On the landing in front of #2, I hesitated. Did Sawyer need anything? It couldn’t have been easy to get to the store often with a toddler.
My hand rose to knock but I mentally reiterated how I’d sworn off men for an entire year. No need to torture myself in the meanwhile.
Or you could be mature about it and be helpful. Grown-ups do that.
I knocked softly on the door. No answer.
“Welp, can’t say I didn’t try.”
I turned on my heel and hurried down the rest of the stairs.
Outside, the twilight was golden and perfect, and the air felt warmer than I expected. Before I’d left New York, Becks had told me there was a famous saying about my new city—that the coldest winter ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. But it was the middle of June and no hint of the chill wind I’d been warned about. I added the warm night to my mental tally of all the things that were good about being here. It was a small thing, but if I thought for longer than a second about Becks or Zelda, or my family, the loneliness would seep in. And if it got too bad, I was apt to do something stupid.
I’m done with that shit, I told myself. I’m brand new.
I concentrated on the city as I walked. My neighborhood of Victorians quickly gave way to commercial towers and shops along Market Street, which I’d deduced was a major vein in the network of the city. Whole Foods appealed to my will to eat healthy, but Safeway appealed to my scrawny bank account. But as I perused the aisles with a basket on my arm, I decided I was better off finding a bodega. Supermarkets, like everything else in SF, were expensive as hell.
I rounded an aisle and crashed basket-first into my new neighbor, Sawyer.
“It’s you,” I said softly before I could regain control of my brain that had become momentarily paralyzed at the sight of him.
He’d changed from his suit to jeans, a hooded sweatshirt over a green T-shirt, and a baseball cap. He was pushing Olivia in a stroller, and the carry-space underneath was filled with fresh fruit and vegetables.
Up close, he was even more ridiculously handsome but tired. So, so tired.
“Oh,” he said. “Hey.”
“I don’t think we were properly introduced.” I stuck out my hand. “Darlene Montgomery. Your new upstairs neighbor who will not be—how did you say it? Prancing and jumping at all hours of the night?”
“Leaping and thumping,” he said, not smiling. He gave my hand a brief shake. “Sawyer Haas.”
For a moment, I became lost in the deep brown of his eyes and my words tangled on my tongue. I sought refuge with the toddler between us and knelt in front of the stroller.
“And this is Olivia? Hi, cutie.”
The little dark-haired girl watched me with wide, blue eyes, then arched her back and pushed at her tray with a squawk.
“She doesn’t like being cooped up for too long,” Sawyer said. “I try to get through this quick. On that note…” he added pointedly.
I stood up quickly. “Oh, sure, of course. See you back at the house.”
His brows came together and he frowned.
“That sounded weird, right?” I said with a short laugh. “We’re virtual strangers but also practically roommates. Isn’t it funny how two things can be so opposite and yet completely true at the same time?”
“Yeah. Weird,” he said tonelessly. “I have to go. Nice meeting you. Again.”
He pushed off, wheeling Olivia away, the sounds of her frustration trailing after. I heaved a sigh and watched him go.
“Nice talking to you.”
No, that’s good. Let him go. You’re working on you.
I perused a few aisles, filling my cart with cottage cheese, lettuce, ravioli and pasta sauce. I was reaching for a packet of coffee filters which happened to share space with the baby food when I heard a child’s fussing growing louder one aisle over. Olivia was on the verge of a full-blown meltdown. Below her screeching came Sawyer’s low admonitions asking her gently to hold on, they were almost done.
I bit my lip and scanned the colorful rows of brightly-colored baby food packaging. With a woot of triumph, I found a box of zwieback toast biscuits, and hurried around the corner.
“Hi, again,” I said. “I think maybe she could use a food diversion.”
“We’re fine, thanks.”
Olivia squawked loudly, as if to say, No, father of mine, I am distinctly not ‘fine.’
I bit back a smile. “Can I help?”
Sawyer took off his baseball cap, ran a hand through his loose, dark blond curls, then put it back on with a tired sigh. “She finished all of her strawberries and I don’t want to feed her a bunch of crap baby snacks.”
“How about one good one?” I held up the box of biscuits. “Talk about old school. I can’t believe they still make these. They’re like dog bones for babies.”
“Dog bones?” Sawyer took the box out of my hands and scanned the ingredients. Or at least I think he did—it took only a second before he handed it back. “Yeah, looks okay but…”
“Great.” I opened the box and tore apart the plastic bag inside.
“What are you doing? I haven’t paid for those,” Sawyer said, then muttered, “Guess I am now...”
“You won’t regret it.” I offered Olivia an oblong piece of the toast and she reached for it with one chubby little hand. “My mom gave my sister and me these things when we were little,” I said. “They take some serious slobbering to turn into mush, and that’ll give you time to shop.”
Sawyer peered into the stroller, which had gone quiet as Olivia happily worked on the biscuit.
“Oh. Okay. Thanks,” Sawyer said slowly. He took the box from me and tried to make room under the stroller amid the avocado, turkey slices, pineapple, peas and squash.
“Are you on a raw food diet?” I asked.
“That’s all for her,” Sawyer said.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you eat food?”
“In theory,” he said. “I have a date with aisle twelve, actually, so if you’ll excuse me...”
I scanned the aisle markers. I found twelve and wrinkled my nose. “Frozen dinners? That doesn’t sound healthy. You prepare all this fresh food for her but none for yourself?”
“I don’t have room to carry a whole lot more,” he said. “I’ll be okay, thanks for your concern…”
“I’ll help,” I said. “What do you want? I’ll carry it for you.”
Sawyer sighed. “Listen…Darlene? That’s nice of you to offer, and thanks for the crackers, but I’m good. After she goes to bed, I’ll throw something in the microwave and hit the books.” He stopped, shook his head, perplexed. “Why am I explaining this? I have to go.”
He started to walk away and I was tempted to let him. He was kind of a jerk, but that was probably the exhaustion. I tried to imagine what it would be like taking care of an entire little human being all by myself. It was hard enough taking care of one adult me. I decided to set aside Sawyer’s gruffness (and his ridiculous attractiveness) and help the guy out. Be neighborly.
“You’re being so silly right now,” I called after him.
He stopped, turned. “Silly?”
“Yes! I’m right here. Let me help you.” I crossed my arms. “How long has it been since you’ve had a really nice meal for yourself?” He didn’t say anything but stared back at me.
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “Come on. I’ll make you something.”
“Now you’re going to cook for me? We met eight seconds ago.”
“So?”
Sawyer blinked. “So…you don’t have to cook for me.”
“Of course I don’t have to. I want to. We’re neighbors.” I peered at the aisle markers again to get my bearings. “I was going to make tuna casserole. Mostly because it’s the only thing I know how to make. How does that sound?” I squatted beside the stroller. “Do you like casserole, sweet pea?”
Olivia smiled at me over her biscuit, and kicked her foot with spastic baby joy. I smiled back and straightened.
“Olivia said she would love some casserole.”
Sawyer looked at me with a strange expression on his face. I gave the sleeve of his hoodie a tug.
“Come on. Looks like fish is this way.”
Sawyer hesitated. “I’m not going to get out of this, am I?”
I cocked my head, frowning. “Why would you want to?”
He was still frowning, but he pushed the stroller after me. “I’m just not used to people doing things for me. Elena does enough already. I feel like a charity case.”
“You’re not a charity case,” I said. “One dinner isn’t going to kill you.”
“I know, but I’m juggling a hundred balls in the air and if someone reaches in and grabs one, it’s going to throw me off.” He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as a jaw-cracking yawn came over him. “Shit, I don’t know why I just said that. I don’t even know you.”
“That’s the benefit to talking,” I said. “Getting to know someone. A revolutionary concept, I know.”
He rolled his eyes and yawned again.
“You really do burn the midnight oil, don’t you?” I said. “Elena told me you’re studying law.”
“Oh yeah?” he said. We’d arrived at the meat section. He picked up a package of rib eye steak, then tossed it back with a sigh. “What else did she tell you?”
I selected some fresh tuna and put it in my basket. “That you have a heart of gold but you’re stressed out all the time.”
His head came up, alarmed. “What? Why…why did she say that?”
“Maybe she thinks it’s true. The second part looks like it, for sure. As for the first?” I shrugged, then gave him a dry smile. “The jury is still out.”
“Ha ha,” he said dully. He glanced at me, then looked away. “Are you always this blunt?”
“I wish I could say honesty is the best policy, but it’s more of a lack-of-filter situation.”
“I noticed.”
“Says the guy who began our acquaintance with Who are you?” I said, with a laugh.
Sawyer stopped and stared at me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. My pulse thumped a little harder while under his sharp, dark-eyed scrutiny. I cleared my throat, and cocked an eyebrow.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I said with a nervous laugh.
Sawyer’s eyes widened in surprise and he shook his head. “Sorry, I…I’m just really tired.”
He moved ahead of me and I watched a pretty young woman check out Sawyer, then Olivia, then Sawyer and Olivia together. I could practically see the hearts in her eyes. Sawyer was oblivious.
“So you’re in law school,” I said, catching up to him.
“Yeah,” he said. “At UC Hastings.”
“Oh, is that a good school?” I asked, then froze. “Wait. It just hit me. You’re going to be a lawyer?”
“Yeah?”
“Sawyer the Lawyer?”
He groaned. “Please don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It’s cute.”
“It’s childish and stupid.”
“Oh, come on.” I scoffed. “Surely you can see how cute it is. Such a funny coincidence.”
“Yeah, one I haven’t heard a million times,” he muttered. “Anyway, I’m going to be an attorney, not a lawyer.”
“What’s the difference?”
“If you finish law school, you’re a lawyer. If you pass the bar and are licensed to practice, you’re an attorney. I’m going to be an attorney.”
“Sawyer the Attorney doesn’t have the same ring to it.” I fished my phone out of my backpack. “Wikipedia says the terms are practically interchangeable.” I shot him a grin.
He sighed, and a tired chuckle escaped him, one that seemed to surprise him. He gave me another perplexed look.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said. “You’re like a…”
“I’m like a, what?”
Our eyes met and held, and despite the perpetual supermarket cold, I felt warm in Sawyer’s gaze. His stiff expression loosened, the tension he carried on him eased slightly. He was locked up tight, this guy; but for that handful of heartbeats, I saw him. A thought slipped into the crevices of my mind.
He’s lonely.
Then Sawyer blinked, shook his head and looked away. “Nothing,” he said. The tension came back—I could feel it like a prickly force field around him—and I was locked out again. “Let’s get out of here before your magic baby biscuit wears off.”
I smiled and followed after silently, while internally I was dying to know what he’d been about to say.
Maybe nothing good, I thought. That was likely; I didn’t know when to stop talking and got all up in people’s business.
But that warm feeling in my chest—in the general vicinity of my heart—didn’t go away. Sawyer had been about to pay me a compliment, I was sure of it. Nothing boring or bland—he was too smart for that. But something extraordinary, maybe.
A compliment that didn’t sound like a compliment but it was, because it was made only for me.
You’re the one being silly now, I thought, and walked with him to the checkout. But it seemed that I’d traveled three thousand miles, and the deep longing to have someone see me trailed after like a shadow I would never shake.