Chapter 15 - Mia

Giselle’s laughter rings out through the restaurant, and I have to fight keep from making a disgusted face. I’ve completely lost track of the conversation, but it’s probably something inane and cringe-worthy, just like everything else that’s come out of her mouth—and my Dad’s mouth—since we’ve been there.

“Oh, David,” she puts her hand on his arm and tilts her head to the side before laughing again. “You really are too much. I don’t know how I’ve managed so long without having you around.”

I roll my eyes before I can stop myself. She’s the one who’s too much.

She shoots me a look, and I wonder if she caught the eye roll, but my dad is oblivious, looking at her as if she’s the only person in the room.

“He is a good guy,” Sawyer says, his deep voice soothing my jagged nerves a little. “I can vouch for that. He’s loyal to a fault.”

Dad blushes a little, and I just want to shake him, to ask him what he sees in this loud, irritating woman. I’ve tried to give her a chance… I really have. But there’s something about her that just gets under my skin, and I can’t help but feel that it’s going to end badly if my dad doesn’t come back to reality at some point soon.

“I’m loyal to my family,” Dad says, nodding in my direction, and then in Sawyer’s. “Mia is my everything, and you’re pretty much family, Sawyer.” Then he turns to Giselle and takes her hand. “But I do try. I try to be a good friend, a good dad, a good… boyfriend.”

I turn away before I say or do something rude. Like, vomit uncontrollably all over the table.

My stomach really is churning, though, and I know that it’s more than just nerves, no matter what little lies I keep telling Sawyer and my dad.

No matter what little lies I keep telling myself.

“And the two of you,” Giselle wags a finger back and forth between Sawyer and me. “You work together? Is that right?”

I feel my face flush as I narrow my eyes at her. I don’t trust her for a second, and I don’t trust where she’s going with this question. Sawyer doesn’t seem to notice the mischievous undertone in her voice, though. Or if he does notice, he doesn’t seem to mind.

“That’s right,” he says, his voice low and smooth as he looks over at me. “Mia has been my intern all summer, and I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do now that her internship is almost over.”

Giselle is smiling at me, but her eyes are shooting daggers. “I’m sure Mia has many talents. She does seem like a smart, resourceful girl.”

“The best,” my dad chimes in, completely missing all of the subtext.

As usual.

Giselle’s eyes narrow again as her gaze flicks from me to Sawyer and back again. My stomach turns again, and I feel like I should stand up like I should excuse myself right this moment, before she can even open her mouth to ask anything else.

But I don’t.

I sit there in silence, returning her hateful look and bracing for whatever might be coming next.

With a fake, sugary-sweet voice, Giselle leans in and asks, “And how long have the two of you been together?”

My eyes go wide, and my mouth opens to speak, but no words come out. To my right, I can hear a whoosh of breath as Sawyer exhales. It sounds as if he’s been punched in the gut, and I know exactly how he feels.

“Excuse me?” Sawyer asks, finally, but his voice is more feeble and uncertain than I’ve ever heard it. This isn’t the voice of a man who is about to deny everything. This is the voice of someone who is guilty as charged.

“You heard me,” Giselle says, leaning back with that same smug smile in place. “How long have you been sleeping with your sweet little intern here, Sawyer?”

“Giselle,” my dad’s eyes look like might explode out of his head at any moment as he hisses her name. “That’s not what’s going on here. That’s ridiculous. That’s…”

His voice trails off as he looks over at me, and then at Sawyer, and I can see the color draining from his face.

Oh my God.

“It’s not what this is, right?” Dad’s voice is quiet now, less certain than just a moment ago. “Mia? … Sawyer?”

I don’t know what to say, so I look away. I catch Sawyer’s eye, and he looks like a deer caught in headlights.

This is bad.

We. Are. Screwed.

I open my mouth to speak again, but my stomach heaves and I lurch to my feet instead. Oh, god. Oh, god oh god. This is going from bad to worse.

Quickly.

Even if I could speak, I don’t have time. I have to get to the bathroom.

I resist the urge to squeeze my eyes shut as I stumble through the restaurant toward the restrooms. I can hear raised voices behind me—first my dad’s, then Giselle’s—and all around me it feels like everyone is watching, whispering, judging the slow-motion catastrophe that is unfolding at our table.

It’s not something I can really think about, though, because it’s taking everything I’ve got to hold on until I get through the restroom door and into a stall, where I finally lean over, close my eyes, and throw up for what is probably the tenth time that day.

My knees are weak, and I hug my arms around my midsection as I heave into the toilet. God, why did I think this night could be anything but a disaster? Why did I agree to come? And with Sawyer? What was I thinking?

The restroom door opens with a bang, and a strangled little cry escapes my throat as I hear heavy footsteps on the tile floor.

But then I hear Sawyer’s voice calling my name. I feel his arms wrap around my shivering body. I don’t even care that he’s here in the women’s restroom with me, or that it all but confirms what Giselle had said back at the table. I barely care that he’s seeing me at my absolute worst.

All that I care about is that he’s here with me, comforting me, holding me upright and letting me melt against him, his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his broad chest helping me to center myself.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I’ve lost track of the number of times he’s asked me that same question today. Every time, I’ve given him the same answer, but I don’t have it in me to lie anymore. I just shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “I’m really not okay, Sawyer.”

“Can you walk? I want to get you out of here.” His voice is a low rumble that moves through my body. “I’ll carry you out if I need to.”

The possessive caveman thing isn’t typically something I love—not outside the bedroom, at least—but right now it’s making me want to crawl up his body and kiss him endlessly.

That will have to wait, though. Until I get a few minutes to get myself together, to brush my teeth and touch up my face. And then, there’s still the confrontation with my dad.

He’ll make sure that we don’t go anywhere before we speak to him again. And it’s not going to be pretty.

As if he’s reading my mind, Sawyer turns me around to face him, gently wiping away my tears as he looks into my eyes. “We should probably come up with something to tell your dad…”

“Not here,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean… I’m pretty sure he already knows, after all of that.” I wave my hand to indicate the madness that just played out back at the table. “But I can’t even think about having a rational conversation here, now, in front of that woman.”

“Agreed.” He pulls me close and gives me another hug before setting me firmly back on my own two feet. “Let’s go out there, say goodbye, and get the hell out of here for tonight. We’ll talk to David tomorrow.”

I nod and walk toward the door, decidedly choosing not to look at myself in the big, fluorescent-lit mirror as we pass by. I’m not sure if the two women we pass on the way out of the restroom are more concerned with the way I look or with the fact that there’s a man leaving the women’s restroom with me. Any other time, I probably would’ve laughed at the curious and scandalized expressions on their faces, but I can’t even muster a smile right now.

Sawyer’s hand at the small of my back is the only comfort I can feel as we walk back to the table. I haven’t made eye contact with Dad yet, but I can feel his eyes burning into me as we approach. Ugh, I wish Giselle wasn’t here. This would be awkward enough without her looking on with her smug smile.

I finally look up and meet my dad’s stare. It’s worse than I had feared. He looks angry. And disappointed. And sad. But mostly angry.

Sawyer and I need to get out of there, but before I can even open my mouth to say that we’re leaving, Dad cuts me off with a look.

“Sit down, Mia,” he says, then looks over my shoulder where Sawyer is standing. “You, too. We need to clear a few things up.”

“I don’t know if this is a good time, David,” Sawyer is still supporting me from behind, his hand still on my back and holding me steady. “Mia isn’t feeling well, and—”

“No.” My dad cuts him off with a sharp jerk of his head. “We’re getting to the bottom of this right now. Take a seat.”

Giselle is practically crowing as I slide back into my chair with a heavy sigh. I’m not ready for this argument, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for it. I don’t think it’ll ever be any easier to tell my dad I’ve been sleeping with his best friend.

My boss.

Sawyer.

As soon as Sawyer is settled in his chair next to me, my dad speaks again. “How long?” he asks, simply.

I look from him to Sawyer and back again. “A while,” I say.

“Weeks?”

I nod.

“Months?”

Sawyer speaks up this time. “The time frame isn’t that important, David, is it? The important thing is that—”

“No. Stop.” Dad puts his hand up again. “I don’t want to hear you try and smooth things over. I’m asking my daughter how long she’s been sleeping with someone who was supposed to be my friend.”

Giselle snorts, and I’m tempted to reach across the table and slap her. We wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now, out in public, if it hadn’t been for her loud mouth.

In the same faux-sweet way she’d done before, she tilts her head to the side and smiles before asking, “And how far along are you?”

I swallow hard.

Sawyer stands up. “Okay, we’re leaving. I’m sorry, David, but your girlfriend is just…”

He doesn’t finish, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not sure if Dad even heard a word Sawyer just said.

The damage has already been done, and my dad is looking at me with a mixture of shock and horror and… rage. It’s not a look I’ve really ever seen on his face, and never directed at me.

For a moment I’m pinned there in my seat, unable to move and unsure of what I should do or say.

“Is it true?” Dad’s voice is just above a whisper, but the hurt in his eyes makes it feel as though he’s yelling. It cuts me to the core. “Mia! Are you… pregnant?”

I can’t answer. I’m not ready to say the words out loud. Not here. Not now. But again, it doesn’t matter. Saying nothing, in this case, is the same thing as a confession.

Everyone at the table—Giselle, Sawyer, my dad—knows the truth.

I’m pregnant. And it’s not a secret anymore.

“We’re leaving,” Sawyer repeats, and takes my arm, gently but insistently helping me to my feet. “David, I’ll—we’ll—call you. Tomorrow, or… sometime soon.”

Everything is a blur. Everyone starts talking at once. My dad’s fist slams against the table, and it spurs me to action. I can hear the sound of my dad’s voice rising, cutting through the busy restaurant as I take the lead and pull Sawyer toward the door as quickly as I can.

There’s so much that needs to be said, but none of it needs to be said here. Not in front of Giselle and a room full of strangers. I hadn’t even worked up the courage to tell Sawyer yet, and now… now it’s all out in the open, in the messiest way possible.

Tears are streaming down my face as we make it to the front door, and the cool night air offers a tiny shock as it hits my face. It’s enough to make me focus, at least momentarily.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, half-afraid to turn and face him. If he has that same look of disappointment and anger that I’ve just seen on my dad’s face, I don’t know what I’ll do. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen… not like this…”

But he doesn’t yell. He doesn’t berate me or ask me a bunch of questions that I can’t answer in a restaurant parking lot.

Tonight, as always, Sawyer is wonderful.

He’s perfect.

He knows exactly what I need, and when we make it to the car, he helps me inside first before coming around and sitting in the driver’s seat.

Reaching out to take my hand, he smiles and says, “I don’t want you to worry about anything tonight, okay?”

I look into his eyes, and I can tell he means it. I’m so thankful for him, but I don’t have the words to express it.

I nod and squeeze his hand tightly.

And then I start to cry.