Page 104 of Sawyer
“That’s why you chose Howard?” Phoebe gasped. “Because Mom would have been jealous?”
“Look, I was trying to be a good husband.” He went over and sat next to her, taking her hand awkwardly. “You know I loved your mother. We just couldn’t live together. Hiring Howard was one of the things I did to make things work.”
“That’s a nice stroll down memory lane, but I don’t want to hear about Mother ever again.”
“Pheebes—”
“Daddy, I’m telling you, and this time you’d better hear me.” She locked her hands under her armpits, making Sawyer rise and pick up the blanket on the chair for her since she looked cold despite her robe. “Thanks, Horatio. Some people should have texted before they showed up and tried to manage things.”
“Some people should have told their fathers the full story.” He gently tucked the blanket around her, which she allowed. “I see now why you didn’t. Tell me everything.”
By the time Phoebe was finished, River was walking the floors. His hands were shoved into his cords, and there was a menacing scowl on his face. “Launching a nuke and telling her to fuck off isn’t good enough, Pheebes. I might have to start a fire in her gallery after smoking a last cigarette.”
Thank God Madison loved joking about her cleaver or he’d be so out of his depths with this kind of talk.
“That’s so film noir 1970s, Daddy,” she said with a sigh. “Plus, it’s arson. Mother is not worth going to jail over. But I’m glad you understand now. So can you leave?”
He stopped and shook his finger, looking every bit like a great artist commanding attention. “No, honey. We’re makingthis right. Sawyer, do you want to have your first gallery show at my bitch of an ex’s gallery?”
The man’s intensity was practically explosive. “I was just talking to my friend about that. We were thinking I could pitch Beverly on doing a bigger show at a top gallery instead. Maybe in New York.”
He slashed his hand through the air. “Yes, but what’s your incentive? I know Bev. She won’t want to back out of an understanding with Ivy. Especially for a new artist—even one she’s signed. Reflects poorly on her.”
“Maybe I can tell Mother she’ll be helping my boyfriend out, having his first show,” Phoebe snarled. “That would make her back out. She’d hate for me to eke out any happiness, even through my boyfriend.”
God, they really were living outHamlet.
“I have no idea what your mother might do at this point,” River ground out, his jaw tight. He paced a few steps forward and then back before pausing, his expression lighting up. “Wait! I have an idea on your incentive. Assuming you two are planning to be public about your relationship.”
They traded looks. “I’m honored to be with your daughter, sir, and hope to have the chance to show you how much she means to me.”
Phoebe playfully sagged to the side as if blown away by his formal protestation, her lips curving. “We’re moving in together, Daddy. Is that public enough?”
The man looked him up and down again. Slowly. Sawyer met his gaze head-on. “Then let me finesse this with Beverly for you as a parental gesture. You know me, Pheebes. I’m a pro at complicated relationships.”
That had Phoebe sagging even further down the couch. “That’s sweet, but let’s hear your plan before Sawyer agrees. It’s his career, after all.”
He caught her eye and sent her a smile. “I’m all ears, sir.”
River drummed his finger on his thigh. “Here’s what I’mthinking. I’ll call Howard and tell him I need to give Beverly one of my shows. He won’t like it, but when I tell him about you and Ivy, he’s going to open a bottle of champagne and toast me for this. Because he hates Ivy, and he loves you.”
“Yes, he does,” Phoebe added with a hand clutched to her chest. “Sawyer, wait until you meet Uncle Howard.”
He didn’t need to ask who she was talking about.
The man was a legend. Howard Carrothers didn’t take clients anymore. That’s why Sawyer hadn’t reached out to him. “I can’t wait.”
“We agree you’re the only saving grace from my marriage, Phoebe.” River came over and tipped her face up. “If I had to do all of the agony over, I would. To have you, Pheebes.”
Sawyer was really starting to like this nickname.
Her eyes were suspiciously wet as she batted his hand away. “For an egoist, you’re not too bad of a parent.”
He wheezed out a laugh. “Your psychiatrist has records that probably say otherwise. But I’m here, and I figure that will negate a bunch of negative behavior in the past.”
“You mean like when you crawled into your studio and painted for weeks, forgetting my birthday, my high school graduation, my?—”
“Yes!” He winced and grabbed the sides of his head passionately. “Let’s not forget how insensitive and emotionally unavailable I can be.”
