Page 42 of A Me and You Thing
Sawyer: Sorry.
Me: I will never forgive you.
Sawyer: You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
Me: What does that mean?
Sawyer: May the force be with you.
A light laugh escapes. He hasn’t lost his sense of humor. His smile and laugh, however, are broken.
So is he.
Somehow, someway, this little family will pull through. I wanted to feel needed.Be careful what you wish forcouldn’t feel more apt about now.
I take a deep breath and face the little rascals. They’re all smiles and giggles. I sit down on the floor in front of them and purposely throw a few wipes around.
The girls laugh as if they’re little giggle machines.
“I’m here all night,” I tell them. Hmmm. All day too. Lucky you.
No, lucky me.
Here we go.
Chapter Thirteen
Bree
“HEY, BREE. SORRY I’m late. I’m stopping at a deli on the way home. Do you want the usual?”
He doesn’t give an excuse for his late return home. He doesn’t need to. I know he’s been visiting Quinn’s grave. He goes there often.
“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Sawyer.”
“Okay, be home soon.” The line goes dead.
I sigh. He actually knows what my usual is at the deli. The knowledge should not fill me with a tingly sensation.
But it does.
Because I never have and never will cook, Sawyer always picks up something on the way home on the nights the Grandma Gang let us fend for ourselves. We don’t dine together, though. He usually eats his dinner in the car during his drive home. I find it disappointing and have to remind myself I’m not here for him.
My intentions are pure; they have been from the very beginning. I’m here for Josie and Jordyn. I’m here for Quinn.
I’ve mastered taking care of twins like a boss, other than a couple days a month when I’m in pain and medicated to the hilt. Sawyer or the Grandma Gang fill in for me then.
Okay, I’m not Quinn, and I’ll never be as naturally good at it as she was. I’m me. I only do Breanna. I can’t be something I’m not. My efforts are acceptable though, because it’s the best I can do. The girls are happy—and so am I. Actually, I’m more than happy. I love this stolen life.
When Sawyer arrives home, he hands me a white bag with my sandwich inside. “Enjoy some time to yourself, Bree.”
Oh boy. Another night of dining alone. Yippee.
At least three nights a week, the Grandma Gang brings dinner and spends an hour or so with the girls. I thought we’d have family dinner together on those nights. Nope. Sawyer always says,Go ahead and eat, Bree. I’ll eat later tonight.
Will he? He still keeps himself in shape, but he’s thinner than usual.
“How are the girls?” His hair is windblown, his sunglasses tucked into the vee of his dress shirt. He looks cool and confident.
