Page 68 of Sawyer
He sat down to compose his resignation letter to the university.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
His parents were here!
Sawyer stared at his mother’s text as an anxiety attack kicked off.
Your father and I flew over the minute we heard from your dean that you resigned from the university!!! To become an artist!!!!! We’ve just arrived at Nanine’s, only to discover from a VERY rude server that you no longer live here. Apparently you also no longer answer phone calls. I plan to wait here until you show up. DO NOT KEEP ME WAITING.
Putting his hand to his ribs, he tried to suck in air as his mind went into panic mode.
Okay, he’d known they’d find out at some point—he’d had no idea how to tell them and had planned to do so after the holiday—but his dean had called his mother? That asshole. Yeah, they went to the same country club, but that wastotallyunprofessional. Sure, Dr. Blanchard had expressed concern in an email back to Sawyer about him leaving his position, to which Sawyer didn’t feel the need to justify himself.
He gasped for more oxygen, his pulse hammering. God, where was a paper sack when he needed it? He was close to hyperventilating, and he knew it.
A take-out bag! Yes. He rushed over to the one that had fallen onto the floor due to the overflowing trash bin. The bag contracted against his mouth as he sucked in that first breath, and then it popped out like a crumpled balloon when he blew out harshly. Which he did over and over again until his glasses fogged up and the black dots went away.
Intervention. Intervention. Intervention.
The words became a chant in his frenzied mind. His parents were here to stop him. God!
He sucked in air from the bag and blew it out, his hands damp now, changing the paper’s color from tan to a darker brown at the edge of his palms. He had to get to the restaurant. He checked the clock, light-headed, heart knocking against his ribs. It was after four. Christmas Eve. He’d been painting in hisatelier, with the understanding that Dean would come and get him soon, when it was time for frivolities. Dean. How funny he hadn’t realized his friend’s name also could mean the man he’d reported to at the university.
God, he wished Dean had come. If so, Sawyer would have been pulled away from the phone he’d silenced. But he was here, and he’d seen the message, and now he could also see his mother had called him three times already in the last ten minutes. God, he could see her terrifying nails in some slick gel color tapping against her Coach purse.
She was going to kill him. Or give it her best shot.
His head swung up, breathing one last time into the bag, hoping it was enough oxygen. He had to get going. It wasn’t snowing any longer. They’d had a light misting earlier, which had seemed magical. Now he felt like he was a trapped victim in a snow globe, running for his life.
He dashed to his studio door and ran down the hallway to the elevator. When he arrived on the bottom floor, heheard the laughter and conversation streaming from the kitchen like it had last night when they’d celebrated his resignation. He thought about stopping to tell his friends where he was going, but all he could see was his mother’s text.
DO NOT KEEP ME WAITING.
The longer she waited, the worse it would be.
He ran out the front after slamming the door and took off toward the street exit, letting himself out and racing down the sidewalk. The cold slapped against his face, icy and numbing. He’d forgotten his coat.
Last-minute holiday shoppers were clogging up the sidewalk, peering into festively decorated shop windows. He had to run into the street to go around them, weaving back and forth and evading cars as he wheezed for breath, wishing he’d brought the paper bag.
The restaurant loomed ahead, a large white delivery truck parked in front. He scanned the area for his parents and didn’t see them.Where were they?In a parked car somewhere? He spotted Madison and Fabian with the delivery driver, who wore a Santa hat, and sprinted over to them.
“Madison—have you seen my parents?”
Her frown deepened as she stalked toward him. “Yeah. Seems news travels fast about you resigning.”
“Yeah,” he panted, furiously looking around. “My dean called her. They jumped on the first plane. Madison! Where is she?”
“You need to take a breath, Doc. I told them I’d give you a message—and that their car could not idle in the delivery zone.”
He bent at the waist. “You sent them away?”
“You bet I did.” She lowered until she could see his face. “Good thing I did. You’re barely breathing. What in the world are you doing out here without a coat on? Come with me.”
She gently eased him up. His rapid heartbeat wasdrumming in his ears, and all he could see was the tight, disapproving features of his mother’s face.
“I can’t. I need to… Shit! I forgot my phone.”
