Page 1 of For the Record

Chapter 1

Sawyer

Eleven months, eight days,ten hours.

If she thought long and hard about it, Sawyer could likely pinpoint the night of her husband’s death down to the final second. Eleven months, eight days, ten hours, and thirty-eight minutes ago, Olivier was killed while taking a scenic route to the mountains with one of his many lovers. And eleven months, eight days,twelvehours ago, his hands had wrapped—

No.Sawyer picked up her plastic cup of on-tap hard cider and took a calculated sip, just enough to be seen drinking; there was no way she would let half of Vancouver witness her lose control tonight. She was sitting in a warehouse of all places, the flashing strobe lights streaking across the dance floor making her flinch and the blaring music inside the LGBTQ+ event competing with her friends for Sawyer’s attention. Even if her mind wasn’t already elsewhere, Sawyer doubted she could think clearly.

“Hey, Chef.” Cindy nudged Sawyer’s shoulder, and Sawyer caught her friend’s concerned smile. “Everything alright?”

Such a loaded question to ask, and for a lingering moment, Sawyer considered the half-truths and lies that came to mind. “Why wouldn’t it be?” she finally scoffed over the music, lowering her gaze once more to the flimsy cup in her hand. She usually preferred indulging in one of the finer shelved reds when she went out, such as the decadent 2007 Sassicaia from Italy or one of the reliable brands her husband had carried at the restaurant. Locally procured from the Okanagan Valley, Mission Hill’s 2018 Oculus was a thousand flavors superior to tonight’s forgettable cider. In fact, this entire evening out was proving to be one big blip in Sawyer’s tightly-wound, predictable life.

“Well, for one, you’ve been scowling into your drink for the past ten minutes or more,” Lori unhelpfully pointed out, smothering a grin as she lifted her cup to her lips.

An arm went around Sawyer’s shoulder, and seconds later Cindy was pulling Sawyer closer to call out, “It’s been close to a year, Sawyer. You deserve to be happy. You owe it to yourself to get back out there. Let’s dance and have fun.”

“I’m too old for this scene,” Sawyer admitted, briefly meeting her friend’s eyes before frowning at the makeshift dance floor. It was a miracle they had even snatched one of the handful of tables toward the back of the warehouse. Hordes of people in their early twenties danced to the thumping electro music drilling into Sawyer’s ears. The only good thing to come of the last two hours were the occasional Indigo Girls songs she’d heard, but then again, they were so heavily remixed they were barely reminiscent of the originals.

“You’re no older than me, and I’m here. C’mon Sawyer, let loose for once,” Cindy laughed, nudging her again, only grating more on Sawyer’s nerves. It’d been so long since she’d felt freeenough to be out with the girls, let alone what it felt like to “let loose.”

How does one even achieve that?

“Mrs. Desmarais, is that you?”

Sawyer cringed at the overtly loud, alcohol-sweet-smelling slur entirely too close to her ear. Ugh, the drunk girl’s voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard, causing the hairs on the back of Sawyer’s neck to stand up. She swiveled in her seat, one of her infamous scowls appearing as she took in an all too familiar face.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

An old school friend of Sawyer’s twenty-year-old daughter, Bree, stood behind them, her scantily clad dress burning a nightmarish image deep into Sawyer’s mind.

Talk about awkward.

“It’s Sawyer Lavoie now, Madison,” she confirmed, unable to mask the bite in her tone, but her statement fell on drunk, empty ears.

“Nice to see you, Mrs. Desmarais!” The younger woman’s parting smile was rife with desire and intent, and Sawyer sat in muted shock as Madison turned to her trio of friends and shouted, “Bree’s mom is a total fucking MILF!”

Sawyer inwardly groaned, wishing to all get out that the music had been loud enough to drown outthatremark. Clearly, Gen Z lacked the manners and finesse of sexual‌ repression that had been so firmly instilled in Sawyer years ago.

She arched one finely sculpted brow at her friends, not bothering to speak. Her expression said it all.See what I mean?

“Honey, I don’t think that girl has an issue with your age,” Lori shouted, looking past Sawyer to where the group of friends had disappeared into the crowd. Her dark brown eyes held a hint of mischief to them.

“And she’s not the only one. Look for yourself,” Cindy remarked, a certain gleam in her eyes that told Sawyer shewas just getting started. Her longtime friend pointed to the dance floor, directing Sawyer’s attention to a woman dressed in an androgynous style. Not counting the blinding effects of the strobe beams, the lighting was low in the warehouse, yet it was blatantly obvious to Sawyer she was being watched. She swallowed, narrowing her eyes at the same time Cindy clapped her back in excitement. “What about that one, huh? Ruggedly promising for a night of fun.”

Sawyer shot her friend an annoyed look. “I didn’t come here to pick up anyone.” She wouldn’t have come at all, except that she hadn’t wanted tonight to be yet another occasion where she let her friend down. But why did Cindy need to make a hobby of trying to match-make? Her love life had been Cindy’s focus for longer than her cheating husband had been in the ground, and that was only with the minuscule contact they’d still had while Olivier was alive.

“You didn’t come here to dance and celebrate my birthday either, apparently, even after I practically had to get on my knees and beg. Really makes me regret surprising you with a ticket,” Cindy decided, getting to her feet and tugging Lori’s hand to follow. “Too bad; we were hoping to enjoy a rare night out with our workaholic friend.”

“I amnota workaholic.”

“Come again?” Cindy leaned closer in disbelief. “Must be all the noise, because I’m sure I heard you wrong. Sawyer, honey, you clock in twelve to fourteen hour shifts day in and day out at the restaurant! I had to book you three weeks in advance to even try to show up tonight!”

The truth of Cindy’s words had a pang of guilt niggling in the shadows of Sawyer’s chest, but she pushed the feeling back down. If she got sentimental over every little thing her friend had said over the years, then she’d not have the backbone she did.

Cindy pressed a kiss to Sawyer’s hair. “I know you love to cook, and I also know running the kitchen saved you in so many ways over the years. But Olivier is gone now, and you’re here. Revel in your newfound freedom.”

Sawyer’s jaw locked, and she forced herself not to engage further. Not only was it the wrong time and place, but frankly, young Madison wasn’t the only one crossing boundaries with Sawyer tonight. Cindy desperately needed to learn how to leave things be. Sawyer glared at her friend’s back as Cindy guided her wife out to the dance floor.

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