Page 114 of Embracing the Beat
“Kayla, you were eating them with mustard. And not honey mustard either. Straight up yellow mustard.” She makes a gagging sound, and Sawyer’s face turns the color of my smoothie.
“So?”
“We just want what’s best for you. Trust us.”
“I do,” I tell them, tears burning my nose. Stupid hormones. A greeting card commercial made me cry the other day. “I don’t know what I would have done the last few weeks without you guys.”
Mia had picked me up from the airport and scheduled a pedicure, manicure, facial, and even a massage for the following day. She’d asked friends about doctor recommendations until we found Dr. Jeffries.
Sawyer had worked with his attorney friend and gotten the paternity paperwork going. I didn’t want the question hanging over us. And now it’s done, and I can move forward.
Easier said than done. Just because I can move forward doesn’t mean I am. I still go to sleep at night convinced I can feel the phantom pressure of West’s arm around my waist. Each time I wake up and realize the sensation wasn’t real is a reminder of what happened and is more depressing than the last. But I will not share that information with either of my bodyguards.
“Aww, Kayla.” Mia sniffles and wraps her arms around me. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“Come here, Mikey.” Sawyer pulls me away from Mia, enveloping me in a bear hug. “Love you, squirt.”
“Love you too.”
“Love you three.” Mia joins in. “That said, I need to go. I have an audition.”
“Break a leg,” I call after her as she darts out the door with an air kiss.
“Your friend is crazy.” Sawyer drops onto a stool at the kitchen counter.
“She’s sweet,” I correct. “I thought you were in Philadelphia.”
Perching on the stool next to him, I feign nonchalance. But it doesn’t stop the way my palms grow clammy or how my heart races. He went home to personally deliver the paternity results to West, and my curiosity is killing me. I can’t help but wonder how he is, what he’s up to. He may not want me—us—but my heart hasn’t gotten the message.
“It was a quick in and out trip.” He fidgets a second before moving to the Keurig machine. “Where do you keep the coffee?”
“How was he?” I can’t help but ask.
He ignores my question, pawing through the cabinets until he finds the coffee pods and pops one in the machine.
“Sawyer?” I ask when he still hasn’t responded.
He grunts.
“That’s not a response.”
“Because it doesn’t matter, Mikey. The loser is out of our lives.”
“He’s not a loser. He’s your best friend.”
“Was. Was my best friend.”
“I don’t want you to end a twenty-year friendship because of me.”
“I didn’t,” he says.
“Yeah, right,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.
“I ended a twenty-year friendship because I don’t know that guy. He’s not my best friend.”
I prop my elbow on the counter and rest my chin in my hand. “This is stupid.”
“Do you need a ride today?”
