Page 147 of One Night with Number Nineteen

Unable to keep my distance, I move to the hall, see Ollie frowning. “But…why?”

He sighs softly. “I tried to do too many things that day. I’m sorry, I should have made sure I had enough time to be there.”

“Oh.”

“I promised,” Sawyer murmurs. “I told you I’d be there, and I wasn’t. I am so sorry, bud.”

Ollie is silent for a long moment.

Then he leans in and wraps his arms around Sawyer’s waist. “You made a mistake,” Ollie tells him. “Thanks for apologizing.”

Sawyer’s eyes come to mine, and they’re glassy with tears.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then hugs Ollie back.

A moment after that—and in typical a four-year-old fashion—Ollie drops his arms and leans back.

“Can I open my present now?”

Sawyer chuckles.

Then he ruffles Ollie’s hair again.

“Sure, bud.”

“Faster, Gray!” Ollie calls as he steers the remote-control car along the path.

To varying degrees of success.

Mostly because he’s four and fine motor control isn’t his strongest asset.

Gray, who wandered over earlier, has his hands over Ollie’s and they’re doing their best to make use of the waning sunlight to drive Sawyer’s present along the concrete of the driveway and the winding path that leads up to the front porch.

Where I’m sitting.

Alone.

Because Faye is working and Gray is hanging with Ollie and Sawyer is avoiding me.

Or maybe…hell, maybe it’s that I’ve been avoiding him.

I needed to answer some emails. And I needed to get dinner going. And I needed to clean out the fridge. And I needed to start a load of laundry.

And I needed to jot down one tiny thing for The Book That Shall Not Be Written.

What I didn’t need was to be sitting out here, watching my son play with…

The man I love.

The man I’m terrified to need.

The man who I want more than my next breath.

The man who’s…

Walking my way.

“Can we talk?” he asks softly.