Page 64 of One Night with Number Nineteen

And I know—know—that I’m so totally fucked.

Eighteen

Lainey

“Oh, aren’t you the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen?” Sawyer’s mom says as Ollie smiles shyly up at her.

Nancy Hill has Sawyer’s blue eyes, but that’s where the similarities end.

Where his hair is long and blond with some curl to it, his mom’s is close-cropped and dark. And where he’s tall and muscular, she’s short and…there’s something fragile about her.

As though one wrong push will have her crumbling.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

Ollie presses his face into my leg.

“Oliver,” I supply. “And he can be a little shy sometimes, but he’s happy to meet you.”

She smiles and waves then glances up at me. “Sorry,” she says. “You’re adorable too.”

I grin. “Thanks. I’m Lainey.”

“I’ve heard all about you, Lainey⁠—”

“Not all,” Sawyer begins, alarm sliding across his face. “I just⁠—”

“I wasn’t going to tell her anything embarrassing, sweetheart,” she says, patting his shoulder and Sawyer’s mouth clamps closed. “But we were just talking about your books. How exciting that you’re a published author!”

“It’s a fun job.” I smooth my hand over Ollie’s head, straightening the mussed strands. “And I’m really lucky I get to do it and make a living out of it.” A gust of wind cuts through the air—and my jacket. Shivering, I nod toward the restaurant. “Should we go in?”

A flurry of emotions across her face…and frantic words out of her mouth. “Oh, right. Of course! You must be starving. And cold. That storm is rolling in.” She looks at Sawyer. “They’re probably starving. And cold! Let’s get inside!”

“All right, Mom,” he says, snagging the door and tugging it open so she can hurry into the restaurant.

But when I go to follow, he catches my arm, slowing me, his lips coming to my ear. “If you need to go, for any reason, just go, okay?”

I frown, start to ask him what the hell that means, but⁠—

“Sawyer!”

He drops my arm, ushers us inside, then hurries over to his mom. “What’s wrong?”

Her lip wobbles. “They don’t have our reservation.”

“That’s because it’s under me,” he says calmly, turning to the hostess. “Sawyer Hill.” A smile. “Party of five.”

The woman scans her screen for a moment. “Yup. I see you now.” She gathers up some menus. “If you’ll follow me.”

We trail her through tables.

Not every one is full, but it’s busier than I expected for Christmas.

Then again, not everyone celebrates and not everyone has family to celebrate with. Plus, not everyone wants to cook a huge meal.

I know I didn’t want to—nor the cleanup that comes along with it.

Especially because Ollie wouldn’t eat anything other than rolls.