Page 33 of The Inevitable Us

I power off my laptop and look at my intruder. “That was Josie,” I snap accusingly at him.

He shrugs. Shrugs! “Eventually, your family is going to find out about this anyway, Rosalie. When it happens, it happens.”

I narrow my eyes at him. I don’t even know whatthiseven is yet. I’ve wanted to be with Sawyer for so long, but I don’t know where his mind is yet. I’m most certainly not rocking the boat with my family. “I thought you were coming Friday?”

My body feels tingly when he sits on the couch next to me, our knees touching. “I have thirty minutes to spare until I have to leave. I was across the street working on payroll and invoicing for hours. I thought we could have dessert together from the Italian bakery down the street. I wanted tiramisu, but they were out.”

He leans forward and digs out two large cannoli from a foam take-out container. “You know they’re served at weddings because they symbolize fertility? My Nonna only made them for baby showers.”

I look down at the cream filled pastry. “I wonder why it symbolizes fertility. Weird.”

He bites into the cannoli and snickers. “I’m sure there’s a back story. How are things in Nashville? Is Rory still being difficult?”

I’ve barely spoken to Rory or my parents. In large part because Dad and Mom finally went on that Caribbean cruise they’ve always said they wanted to take. Dad rented a private yacht, and now they’re God knows where for the next few weeks.

“Haven’t spoken to my parents. They’re on vacation. Rory’s working a lot, and we keep missing each other.”I keep ignoring his texts is more like it.I shoot him a curious look. “Where did Brody retire to?”

He swallows a bite of his cannoli, licking the cream from plush lips I know are velvety soft. “He’s not gone anywhere yet. He’s just hanging around his condo and playing bocce.” Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he snickers again. “Mrs. Henry moved in last week.”

“The housekeeper! He’s seeing our housekeeper?” I look wide eyed. Gasping, I ask, “Do Mom and Dad know?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I think they kept it pretty quiet. It’s been going on for about a year now.”

Once our desserts are done, I gather our trash to toss it. Walking back to the sofa, Sawyer’s hands capture me as I walk past, pulling me into his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and run my thumb along his hairline. “I need a kiss before I leave,” he tells me, going for my neck. His hands go up my skirt to my bottom, cupping each cheek in his palms.

I lean in to kiss him on the lips once, and his hands pull me further into him. He growls low in his throat before looking up at my face. “I do have to go. Shifts switch in a bit.” He brushes the hair from my face. “Stay out of trouble.”

Josie: So, who’s the guy?

Rosalie: What guy.

Josie: Is he someone you know from home? His voice sounded familiar I thought.

Rosalie: Don’t know what you’re talking about.

Josie: He seems awwwwwfulllly familiar to be calling you Baby Girl already.

Rosalie: Oh, that guy? Barely know him.

Josie: Uh-huh. He has a key.

Thenextnightit’slate when I finally drag myself up the stairs. A loud crash wakes me up, followed by the sounds of Sawyer falling face-first into my bedroom. “What the…Rosalie, what is this?”

Yeah, that’s what midnight intruders get for breaking in.

I peek out from under my comforter, hiding my tell-tale grin from Sawyer. I can’t help but be excited to see him, even if he is letting himself in. “A baby gate for the kittens. They can fall down the stairs,” I answer back, a little annoyed at being woken up. “Why are you here?”

I have the kittens in bed with me for the first time, lonely for company, and I have a nylon mesh baby gate blocking the top of the stairs. It’s very difficult to see in the dark, especially if you don’t know it’s there.

He unfastens his tie and puts his suit jacket on the corner of my vanity. He leans down onto the bed and kisses my lips once, twice. “Scoot over. I sleep by the door.”

Who has he slept with to have a side of the bed?I blink up at him. “You let yourself in to sleep with me.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “I have three hours total to sleep and get to the ranch. Now scoot over. I need some shut eye.”

Did he drive from the ranch, where his bed is, to climb into bed with me?I can argue with him and attempt to kick him out (even though I know he won’t go because crazy can’t be rationalized with), or I can do what I really want to do: scoot over to the other side like he asks and curl up with him.

“You really came to sleep?” I ask again, incredulously, as I do as he asks.

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