The Fundamental Theory of Us (11 page)

Chapter Sixteen

On Friday at three o’clock, an hour after their last class of the week, Andrew met Sawyer in the hall between their apartments. She agreed to let him take her out on a date tonight. A proper date. Just the two of them, with no Rosie.

When he told them his plan, Rachel and Lola agreed to take Rosie off his hands for the night. He didn’t know how long they’d be gone and he wanted Rosie looked after. Sawyer seemed unsure of herself, standing with her hands in a defensive position—her arms crossed and hugging her torso, hands in fists at her sides. She wore a fitted dress with a soft floral pattern that hung to her knees, and boots. Leather boots. With heels.

Andrew held his breath as he looked her over. “You look incredible.”

A faint blush rose in her cheeks. “You don’t look half-bad yourself.”

He’d found some khakis and a brand new knit sweater in the back of his closet, and pulled the look together with a button-down shirt. The collar stuck out above the sweater, like his dad’s used to do. He hadn’t shaved though, and looking at Sawyer, he wished he had.

No time for that now. Andrew held out his arm. “Ready?”

“I still don’t know where we’re going.” She slid her hand onto his arm.

“That’s the point of a surprise.”

“I guess you’re right.” She laughed as he held the door and the walked down the steps. “And thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

He had them delivered earlier so there wouldn’t be that awkward moment when he handed her a bouquet and she’d have to step inside her place again, find a vase, and trim the ends. This way, she got them, could enjoy them without feeling rushed, and they could just leave when they wanted to.

“You’re welcome.” He opened the passenger door and helped her into his truck. He zeroed in on the boots and his pants tented. She had the perfect legs for those boots.

“If you keep looking at me like that,” Sawyer began, the blush in her cheeks bright.

Andrew leaned in, trapping her in place with his hands at her sides on the seat. “You’ll what?”

She licked her lips. “I…” Her warm gaze darted from his eyes to his lips and back again. She wasn’t ready. Not yet.

He brushed her bottom lips with his thumb, noticing the way she trembled at the touch, the way her chest rose and fell, fast. He boxed that up and put it aside for now. “There’s no rush, Sawyer. Plenty of time, okay?”

She nodded, and her breathing seemed to slow down a little. He kissed her cheek, buckled her in, and rounded the truck. They had over an hour and a half drive ahead of them—traffic willing. Through his mom, he scored two tickets to a string performance at Stevens Center in Winston-Salem, and they had dinner reservations before that.

Andrew’s phone beeped—a text. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Are you going to get that?”

“I don’t want to.” He grabbed his phone and, sure enough, he had a text from Emory, trying to worm dinner and a movie in with working on their project. He regretted accepting her offer of partnering up as much as he regretted giving her his number. “Nothing important.”

Ten minutes into the drive, Sawyer turned the volume up on the radio. He liked that she took the initiative when she wanted something. Since the first time he saw her, she had come out of her self-imposed shell. Whether she revealed who she’d been before putting herself in there, or a new version of herself, he didn’t know. He liked it, either way.

They reached the restaurant with twenty minutes to spare and walked around the block, taking in the sights. Winston-Salem was definitely bigger than Boone, and Murrell’s Inlet, the little town in South Carolina where he was born and raised. He wondered where Sawyer grew up but didn’t press. At times, he thought she seemed like a city girl—like now. She looked right at home among busy pedestrians and shop owners luring early evening foot traffic into their businesses. Other times, he thought maybe she came from more of a close-knit country setting, where everyone knew everyone else’s business, and she couldn’t walk down the street without getting recognized.

When he spotted her eying something in a store across the street, Andrew held her hand and led Sawyer to the storefront window. In the display were children’s toys, all hand-crafted and painted. Sawyer had her eye on a little smiling doll with dark ringlets and honey-brown eyes like her own.

Andrew put his arm around her shoulder. “Dolls, huh?”

“My niece would love it.”

She just gave him a peek inside the tightly closed bubble of her life pre-Boone. He tightened his grip on her. “Sister or brother’s kid?”

“Sister.” She said the word so softly he almost didn’t hear. “But it’s silly. I don’t know why I’m bothering.”

Sawyer started walking away. He stopped her. “Let’s get it then. You can save it and give it to her for Christmas.”

“I don’t think I’ll be going back for Christmas.”

“Why not?”

She hid behind her hair. “It’s complicated.”

He knew a thing or two about complications. “Well, you can get the doll for her and send it, if you can’t make it home.”

“I don’t have enough for it.” More excuses.

“Then it’ll be from both of us. Come on.”

Andrew pulled her into the shop. His dad had owned a store just like this one, but instead of a large selection of toys, he’d made wooden vehicles. All wood. The axels, wheels, every part. Wood. The scent always brought back memories, both good and bad. Now though, he focused on Sawyer. She tried pulling away, and this time, he wouldn’t let her. She did it before and he’d gone along with it. That wasn’t going to happen again. Not while he had anything to say about it.

He bought the doll and had it wrapped, just in case Sawyer chickened out. If there was a post office nearby and it had still been open, he would have had her send it now. Instead, he carried the doll in a paper bag with the store’s logo on the front and led Sawyer back to the restaurant. Just like he knew she would, she made a face at the menu prices.

Andrew folded his menu. “I’m having the surf and turf and finishing off with the chocolate torte. How about you?”

Her eyes shot wide. “That’s…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “There’s nothing here for under twenty dollars, Andrew!”

“Don’t look at the price, all right? Forget about that. Just tell me what you want.”

She bit her lip, a worried cloud passing over her eyes. “Maybe we should share.”

He leaned across the cozy table and took her hands in his. “Look, this is our first date. I want it to be special. We don’t have to go out to places like this all the time, but I want to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Every woman should have a man who takes her nice places and spoils her, even if it’s just a once in a while thing.”

“Well, what if I’m … not the kind of girl who deserves that?”

Whoever put those thoughts in her head was a dead man. “Let me be the judge of that. I worked hard for my money, and I want to spend some of it on you. That’s my decision.”

When the waiter showed up, Andrew ordered two surf and turfs, and let Sawyer fumble through her drink order. She wasn’t old enough for alcohol and he was driving. She finally settled on a sparkling water, and Andrew picked the same. While they waited, he filled her in on his family, since she agreed to come home with him for Thanksgiving, which was next week.

“My mom is kind of crazy. The good kind. I hope you don’t mind huggers.”

She looked up from folding her napkin on her lap. “Huggers?”

“Yeah, you know. People who hug, a lot.”

“Oh. I can’t say I’ve known any.”

“Your parents aren’t huggers?”

She scoffed at that. “When I was younger, my father would pat me on the head. Mother? Never. Showing emotion isn’t what they do. Even in private. My mother would rather the world think everything’s coming up roses and face it with perfectly coiffed hair than let a single crack show.”

She called her parents “mother” and “father”? Andrew held back a shudder. One of
those
families, like the ones his dad came from. His dad hadn’t been like them, and marrying an Irish immigrant proved that. “Well, I guess you’ll have to get used to it then.”

The waiter brought their drinks and Sawyer paused with a sip. “Get used to what?”

Andrew waited until the waiter left, then reached under the table and found her thigh. She tensed at the contact. A second later, the pulse in her throat jumped up to a staccato beat. “The opposite of what you grew up with.”

She swallowed, the sound thick. Whatever she was going to say was lost when her phone beeped. Andrew knew the look—fear. Something scared her, bad, and that phone had the power to control her emotions.

He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

Some of the fear in her eyes flickered, giving way to anger. “I’m a big girl, Andrew. I can look at my own phone.”

“Not when it obviously upsets you. Every time that damn thing goes off, you freeze. So let me see.”

She handed her phone over and laughed when he couldn’t get past the lock screen. She didn’t realize he could see the first part of the message, including the sender—some asshole called Chase.

Little whore. Don’t think you can get away with—

That’s all the message he could see and it made his blood boil. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

Andrew set her phone down next to his plate. He barely kept his anger in check. “Who is Chase?”

As expected, Sawyer stiffened. The fire in her eyes flashed brighter. “My brother-in-law. Give my phone back, Andrew.”

“Not until you tell me why he’s texting you.” Andrew leaned closer and his voice was so low it sounded like a growl. “And why he’s calling you a whore.”

Chapter Seventeen

The beautiful dining room, with dark, old-fashioned floors and bright, crisp linens and soft candlelight, it all faded away into nothing.

Why had she given Andrew her phone? She’d forgotten to put it on silent, and of course, Chase would text tonight, of all nights. The fact that he’d called her
that
in the text meant he was boiling mad. The kind of mad that lead to more scars.

I’m not there. He can’t hurt me.

Or could he? He already threatened to keep Courtney from her.

Across the table, Andrew barely contained himself. His sweater stretched taut over his chest and shoulders. His nostrils flared. A muscle ticked in his jaw, making his beard move. The guy was one word away from going supernova right here in the middle of the fancy, five-star restaurant.

The waiter chose that moment to bring their meal, giving Sawyer some time to come up with an answer.
Yes, why
is
my brother-in-law calling me a whore?
She didn’t need this—didn’t deserve it, no matter what Chase told her. Sawyer had done nothing wrong. She tried to stop it, but Chase was older and stronger.

Before the waiter left, Sawyer dove into her steak, cooked just right. Every bite turned to ash in her mouth. Same with the lobster and the shrimp. From the sour look on Andrew’s face, his meal had the same burnt cinder taste.

You screw everything up, Sawyer. It’s what you do.
Mother’s voice raked nails on a chalkboard inside her head. Sawyer took a sip of her water. Her hands shook. She couldn’t take another bite of her dinner the way her stomach clenched. It would end up on the table.

She set her cutlery down and ducked her head, focusing on her napkin. Andrew didn’t deserve this—didn’t need it. She should be upset with him for taking her phone but knew, deep in her heart, that he cared. He was angry with Chase, not her.
Maybe I could tell him
…

Sawyer shut that thought down. No, she couldn’t tell him. Why had she even agreed to this in the first place? She didn’t date. Dating lead to other things. Things without clothes. Clothes were her armor. They kept people from seeing everything she hid from the world.

“Hey.” Andrew bent across the table and held out his hand, waiting. She hesitated, but the softness in his pale blue eyes pierced the dark clouds in her chest. She put her hand in his, relaxing a little as he shut his hand over hers. The man had massive hands. “I’m not mad at you, Sawyer. I just hate the idea of anyone, especially a member of your family, using that word when he’s talking to you. Or any woman.”

“I can’t explain it, not now.”

“Not now,” he agreed. “Not tonight. Tomorrow. For now, I’m keeping this”—he pocketed her phone—“until we get home.”

****

Dinner was a disaster. The leftovers were packed up and left on the back seat of Andrew’s truck when they went inside a theater. With ushers. It was fancy—not as fancy as some of the places she’d been growing up, but in the south, places had charm and substance. The pompous locations her family took her, before she embarrassed them and they cut her out of their lives, were gaudy and sterile. This theater felt warm and comfortable, its worn velvet seats each contained a unique story to tell.

Sawyer sat beside Andrew with her hands fisted in her lap as the lights dimmed. The curtains parted, revealing two young women sitting on the stage in beautiful evening gowns—one glittering silver, the other a deep plum hue—each holding a glossy cello. Hummingbirds fluttered in her chest. She loved cello music. Andrew couldn’t have known, even if he’d asked her family. Somehow, he figured she’d enjoy this. He was right.

The first notes of an original piece floated out over the crowd and Sawyer shut her eyes, swept away with the music. By the time intermission came around, Andrew had taken her hand in his and held it on the armrest, and she hadn’t noticed. Her awareness of him shot up to the roof as he walked her to the refreshment counter and ordered two warm apple ciders. They found an alcove near the steps leading back into the theater, and they sipped their drinks. When they finished, a woman with a silver tray whisked the empty glasses away, and Andrew stepped closer, until the heat from his body scorched through her dress, right down to her soul.

“Are you having fun?” He swept her hair away from her face and trailed a finger along her jaw.

Her body reacted to him in a way that had never happened with any guy. Only Andrew. After what Chase did, she had been too afraid to even try dating in high school, on her own, without Mother’s interference. Andrew gave her back her strength and confidence, and he didn’t ask for anything in return, except the truth. A truth she wasn’t sure she could give. How did she tell the guy she’s falling for that someone in her family ruined her for life?

Andrew still hadn’t kissed her. She wanted him to. She was also afraid of how she’d respond, and where it would lead. She wasn’t afraid of sex, though letting another person see her without her clothes, her armor, wasn’t a step she was willing to take yet. Mostly, she didn’t want to see the disgust in his eyes when he saw her body, and heard the explanation. Because it was disgusting. She let herself be used. Degraded. She’d been too afraid to call for help.

“Hey.” He pulled her attention back to him. “You keep doing that thing.”

“What thing?” Ew, was that her voice? All breathless and floaty?

“It’s like you’re disappearing. Your body’s still here but your mind is a thousand miles away.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He touched his lips to her forehead and Sawyer sighed, wishing he would kiss her, and fearing it in the same breath. “I admit, I acted like an asshole about your phone, but I’m not going to let it slide forever. I wanted to give you a perfect night and ended up showing you how much of a shithead I can be.”

A smile pulled at her lips. She met his gaze head on, pausing to stare in his eyes for a moment. “It’s a long story, and I don’t know if I can let it all out now. I just need some more time.”

“Then you have it. You’ve got to promise me something though.”

“What?”

“Block his number the minute you wake up tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. What if—”

“If someone needs to get in touch with you, they can call you. I assume the rest of your family has your number?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. I wouldn’t care if he was related by blood or marriage. No one has the right to speak to a woman that way.”

Her argument was interrupted by the end of intermission. Andrew took her hand in his, slid his fingers between each of hers, and held her palm flush against his as he led her back to their seats. He didn’t let go all through the second half.