Page 71 of Sawyer
Clearly still was, which was demoralizing after all the ground he’d thought he’d gained lately.
“Well, she didn’t scare me, but I have more experience with her type from Miami.” Madison drew the ice bag off his neck. “I think we can dispense with this. Now, what do we do?”
“I take him home,” Kyle said, taking charge. “It’s Christmas Eve. We have celebrations planned. When you feel a little better after being with your found family, you can decide what to do. I understand you feeling the need to tell them you’re making a big change. Even though I hate my parents and knew they’d disapprove like they always do, I still texted them I was selling my shares in the business and starting a new company here. It’s called managing parental expectations.”
“Yeah,” Sawyer rasped out. “I hate the whole game of it.”
“Then don’t play it,” Madison said in her steely way.
His throat closed. “I don’t want to see them. All she’s going to do is scream at me for throwing a respectable life away and then try and talk sense into me. She’ll even say that my dean will rip up my resignation letter. My father will stand there, a foreboding presence of silent disapproval. I can tell you everything they’re going to say. But I don’t know how to stop them. Madison, you saw my mother. You know what she’s like. She’ll be back—maybe tonight even. I don’t want you to have to deal with her. Plus, it’s the holidays. Nanine’s is going to be packed?—”
“Stop that,” she interrupted harshly. “Like Kyle said, wehave protocols for this kind of thing, and while she’s your mother, I’ve got a line of chefs in the back who will stand like the Great Wall of China in front of this restaurant and make sure that woman understands she has to leave. You don’t want to see her. Or your dad. That’s the smartest move you could make, Doc. We’ll help make that happen. Right, Kyle?”
“Yeah.” Kyle knelt beside him. “It’s brave to say no to people like this. I blocked Paisley from my phone, and I sure as hell would never have agreed to see her again if she hadn’t shown up.”
He knew what Kyle was saying. That he wasn’t a coward for trying to distance himself by ignoring them. “But they’re my parents. Maybe it’s my half-Chinese side that got thehonor your parents and your ancestorsgene, but it seems like a nuclear option.”
“Does it?” Madison lowered herself to a knee beside Kyle. “I understand how you’re feeling. I had a hard time cutting my dad out of my life for the longest time, even when he was taking money from me and telling me I was nothing. And I’m a tough case, not a sensitive artist like you. But I have one question for you, Doc. When have they ever honored you?”
Emotion burned in his throat. “Never. Not like I wanted. Not like I needed.”
He was tired of being that scared boy. Who lived in fear of his mother’s disapproval and his father’s neglect. They were never going to approve of his choices. Why even text them to explain things? They wouldn’t understand, and they’d find some way to twist his words around to harm him. The bottom line was that they would never accept his choice to become an artist—even if he had an agent like Beverly Merriweather. The very thought of undergoing a toxic back-and-forth with them made him sick at heart. Maybe someday he would compose a letter and send it to assuage the last of his guilt, but not now. He couldn’t find words other thanFuck youandfuck off.
“Then you don’t need to see them,” Kyle stated. “Youhave me and Mad and everyone else behind you on this. And my word. You’d call it a vow. Your mother is not going to get to you.”
Madison lifted his chin, her oval face a study in resolve. “We’ll make sure of it. You’ve got my word too.”
“And your cleaver…”
She gave the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen from her. His mind captured her face, and he knew he was going to paint her like this. He would call itDark Angel.
“As razor sharp as I can make her.” Her hand lowered and she made a slicing motion with it like she was starring inPsycho.“Glad we can joke.”
Kyle helped Madison to her feet, and they glanced at each other. God, why couldn’t they see how good they’d be together? Maybe Sawyer would need to do something to help them realize that—but not now. His legs were still shaking. He downed the rest of his cognac and took a few more cleansing breaths. His friends continued to watch him with eagle eyes. He wished he could tell them a joke and break the tension the way Phoebe would.
God, what was Phoebe going to think when he told her about how he’d lost his shit?
Then he stood up straight. God, he hadn’t even seen his parents, and he’d jumped straight to feeling wrong and inadequate. She’d be angry—no, enraged for him. Like she had when he’d told her the story about him breaking his arm. She’d probably offer to fly back immediately and pepper him with kisses. The thought made him smile, although he wouldn’t let her cut her holiday short.
He was stronger than he’d been. As surely as there was some kind of creator in the universe, he wasn’t that scared little boy anymore. He had to remember that.
Then he thought of Nanine giving him that special bottle of wine only a few days ago. No, he was Sawyer and always would be. He knew what he had to do.
“I’m okay now,” he assured them, locking his knees and standing. “When I get home, I’m going to text them that I’m moving forward with my life as an artist and don’t plan to discuss it with them since they disapprove. Then I’m blocking them.”
“Good for you, Doc.” Madison squeezed his arm. “You don’t need me to be proud of you, but I am.”
“Me too.” Kyle extended his hand, and they shook.
Sawyer knew he’d completed a male rite of passage of sorts in this whole growing up and being a man thing.
He managed a smile. “We should get out of your hair, Madison. Go home.”
Home.
Because that’s what he’d found here with his Paris roommates.
“Consider yourself in good hands,” Madison said, sending Kyle a silent message. “Do you want me to call you a car?”
