Page 19

Chapter 19

Sawyer

Never in her life had Sawyer felt such extreme exhaustion. She was tired all the time. Going up a flight of stairs to her bedroom wore her out so much that she had to take a breather before going ahead with whatever had brought her up there to begin with. Yesterday, she slept past her alarm. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d done that, if ever. In fact, it was Bree who had turned off the alarm in the end, gently shaking Sawyer awake to ensure she was still alive.

There was a knock on Sawyer’s bedroom door before Bree stuck her head in. “Oh, you’re up, perfect. Need help getting dressed?”

Sawyer shot her an annoyed look, turning back to her task. She grabbed the gray joggers off the bed and carefully lifted one of her legs. She refused to answer that question. She had a heart attack; she wasn’t dead. Bree had already taken over every aspect of Sawyer’s life, and now she wanted to help her dress? Over my dead body.

“Good, you chose something comfortable. Remember, the doctor said we need to start slow, going for short walks—”

“I, not we,” Sawyer corrected, slightly out of breath now as she stood to haul her joggers up over her hips. She picked up the sweater also on her mattress, sliding her arms and head in before turning to Bree. “I love you, sweetie, but please stop trying to micromanage me. You have better things to do with your life.”

“That’s crazy talk,” Bree replied, wrapping an arm around Sawyer’s waist as they left the room. She was shorter than Sawyer, just barely reaching her shoulders, but as Bree insisted on holding on to her as they made their way down the stairs, Sawyer was the one who felt small and helpless.

“Bree, this is …” Sawyer’s voice trailed off as they reached the dining room. She never used the dining room anymore. It was too formal and reminded her of years of toxic family dinners. Two place settings were set up, both with bowls of hot porridge topped with fresh berries and a carafe with, she assumed, coffee.

“I know you weren’t hungry for breakfast yesterday, but I’d like you to try and eat a little this morning,” Bree explained, giving Sawyer a gentle squeeze before letting go. She walked over to the plate setting at the head of the table and pulled back the chair, gesturing for her mother to sit.

“I can seat myself,” Sawyer bit out, embarrassed she was being treated like an invalid. Once she’d taken her old place at the table, she added, “I eat at the island.”

Bree froze as she was about to sit down. Her eyebrows shot up. “Is that new? Sorry, I don’t mind moving us to the kitchen.”

“It’s fine. Just so you’re aware for next time, since you seem hell-bent on catering to me.” Sawyer was aware of how irritated and unappreciative she sounded, but she honestly couldn’t help it. She’d been doing everything for herself for far too long to suddenly stop. She picked up her spoon, eyeing the too-healthy breakfast with a grimace. She’d raised Bree on crepes, pancakes, or bacon and eggs unless they were in a rush, but even then, she’d made certain to have homemade cinnamon rolls or pastries up for grabs along with their usual staple of yogurt and fruit. Olivier had demanded it.

“I’m not trying to take over, Maman , I promise,” Bree said, looking down at her food. She bit her lip before glancing back up to Sawyer with glistening brown eyes. “I just want to be here for you. I know you’re angry that I’m here, but can you blame me? I almost lost you.”

Sawyer’s throat burned as she watched her daughter trying not to cry. She swallowed down the ache, reaching out with a tentative hand for Bree’s shoulder. She placed it there, feeling awkward and inadequate when it came to offering comfort. “I don’t blame you. I’m sorry I’m not a better patient.” The apology was forced, but it was the best Sawyer could do. She knew Bree was just trying to help, that she loved Sawyer, same as Cindy and Lori. Even Barb and the rest of her staff had stepped up in the last week, doing everything in their power to keep Desmarais running smoothly while she was out. Cindy had taken to her role as executive chef like a moth to a flame, but Sawyer had expected nothing less. Her friend had been born to run a kitchen, and in a way, Sawyer was pleased to be able to offer her the opportunity to try her hand. She patted Bree’s shoulder, trying for a smile. “Now, how about we dig in?”

Bree returned her smile, though she reached up to brush a fleeting tear off her cheek. She barked a laugh. “It may be cold now. Let me know, and I can nuke it.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect, love.” Sawyer helped herself to the small container of milk, pouring a splash over the berries in the bowl before setting it back down. “Would you mind grabbing the maple syrup out of the fridge?”

Bree shook her head, tapping a dish she hadn’t noticed with her spoon. “This is stevia, Maman . It has zero sugar and no aftertaste like the old sugar substitutes.”

Sawyer frowned. “I know what stevia is, Bree, but why is it in my house?”

“I placed a grocery order yesterday while you were napping. Picked up a bunch of heart healthy options for you, too. Those pamphlets you were given mentioned limiting sugar as much as possible.”

Sawyer closed her eyes, praying for patience. She took a deep breath, or as deep as her body would agree to these days and exhaled slowly. “Maple syrup has a high nutritional value.”

Bree nodded. “I’m not disagreeing, but you can’t just fall back into the same lifestyle you had pre-heart attack.” She pointed to a dish of pills sitting behind Sawyer’s coffee mug. “I ordered vitamins as well, supplements to help with whatever you’re not getting anymore in your food. Your heart pill is in there, too.”

“Fine. It’s fine.” Sawyer shrugged off the unease clouding her person and scooped out a sprinkle of the sweetener. She would not get upset at Bree, who was only trying to help. She stirred her porridge, sucking her teeth as the hot cereal didn’t even change color from the sweetener. What other consequences to her overworking and not watching her diet were in store for Sawyer? She was a French-Canadian chef for fuck’s sake—sweet and savory was practically her middle name. “How’s Scott?” she asked, eager to get her mind on anything else.

“I don’t know,” Bree admitted with a shrug, spooning a bite of porridge into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before adding, “We broke up.”

“Broke up? Why? I hope it wasn’t because you dropped everything for me.” Sawyer swallowed her own bite.

“No, nothing like that.” Bree was looking at her as she uncapped the carafe, her brows pinched together slightly, deep in thought. She poured steaming coffee into both their mugs. “It just wasn’t working out. He wanted me to drop everything and be available whenever he was, and honestly, his narcissistic tendencies started feeling too much like Papa’s.”

“ Calisse, Bree . Je suis tellement désolée .”

Bree set the carafe down, and Sawyer reached across to clasp her daughter’s hand in hers. She should have known Bree wasn’t happy. Why hadn’t she known ?

Bree flashed her a brief smile. “Thanks, Maman . I’m not worried or upset or whatever. I’m just not settling.” She shrugged again, turning back to her breakfast.

“You’re strong, love.” Sawyer forced out a smile. Stronger than I was so long ago was what a part of her wished she would say, but that would be opening the conversation up to a place Sawyer didn’t wish to go.

She ate more porridge, though she wasn’t a bit hungry. When Bree’s attention shifted to her phone, and she thought it safe to do so, Sawyer pushed away her bowl and picked her coffee up instead. As soon as the mug touched her lip, she smelled delicious hints of cardamom and cinnamon. She smiled, pleased that at least Bree hadn’t altered her favorite recipe.

As she drank, she observed her daughter, who was grinning at a video on TikTok. She felt herself soften, her damaged heart warming at the lightness that was Bree. Even though she hadn’t had the best childhood at times, she still managed to always be smiling. Her beautiful, sweet girl. No, woman, Sawyer silently corrected. Scott may have turned out to be an idiot, but one day, her grown up little girl would fall in love. Sawyer hoped more than anything that whoever she ended up with treated her like a queen. Not settling was an excellent start.

“How did everything go last night?”

Bree glanced up from her phone. “At the restaurant? Great, actually. Slammed until eight and then steady right up until closing. Cindy was so cringe with how the dishes looked going out, so you don’t have to worry there.”

“I’m not worried.” She definitely was. She’d thought of little else in the last three months than working toward another Michelin star, and now, it seemed like her goal was damned near impossible. Besides, how would she keep the star she had if Bree and her friends, not to mention her doctor, were all but begging her to stay home? “Can you grab my phone from upstairs? I forgot it on my nightstand.”

Sawyer hated to ask, but she’d learned her limits yesterday when she’d done the exact same thing. She’d carried herself back up the stairs to retrieve her phone only to need another lie down. Seriously, she was considering moving her bedroom downstairs for the next few weeks. Dr. Cooper had said the fatigue should wear off by then, but rather than wallow in the exhaustion, he advised walking every day.

“Sure thing,” Bree chirped, pushing back her chair and disappearing from the room. Seconds later, Sawyer heard her bounding up the stairs, and she chuckled a little. Her daughter was one of a kind and probably one out of a few her age that would jump to her mother’s command. That was one thing Sawyer had been thankful for. Even as a teenager, Bree had never been difficult.

“Some interesting texts you’re getting from your mechanic,” Bree stated, a huge grin on her face as she came into the dining room again. She had her head down, focused on Sawyer’s phone. “‘Can you check?’” she read aloud, giggling. “‘It might’ve slipped under the sofa. P.S I hope I didn’t dirty anything.’”

“God, give me that,” Sawyer exclaimed, mortified. Her cheeks flushed, and she snatched her phone from Bree’s grasp.

“What is she talking about?” Bree stifled more laughter and fell into her chair again.

“ Tabarnak .” Sawyer unlocked her phone, briefly wondering if there would ever be a time McCoy Miller wasn’t raising her blood pressure. Memories of her the night before had teased Sawyer even in her dreams. She still couldn’t believe she’d pulled McCoy’s hair. She didn’t know what had come over her, but she’d liked it. And by McCoy’s sharp inhale, she didn’t think she was the only one. There was something about McCoy that made Sawyer want to take control of every situation, more than normal. McCoy had her craving dominance. In her dream the night before, she’d been tying McCoy to her headboard. She’d woken sweaty and more aroused than she’d ever been.

Sawyer scanned the message, breathing a sigh of relief at the relatively innocent question McCoy had asked. She cleared her throat, still flustered, but glanced at her daughter. “Can you check around the sofa and coffee table for a small black key? It’s for a bike lock. McCoy thinks it might have fallen out of her pants pocket.”

“So, she was in our living room, huh? She’s totally hot, by the way.”

Sawyer scowled, not enjoying the bitter taste in her mouth at the thought of her daughter being attracted to McCoy. “Since when do you check out women?”

“Not for me, for you . She’s totally into you.” When Sawyer’s eyes only narrowed more, Bree made a tsking sound, reaching over to pat her knee. Her eyes were full of acceptance as she softly added, “It’s not too late to be who you were meant to be, Maman .”

Sawyer was speechless, shell-shocked even. She sank back in her chair, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise. “H-how?” she stammered. She’d never felt safe enough to talk about her sexuality while Bree was growing up, so how could she have—

“Three things,” Bree admitted sheepishly, reaching up to wipe a tear off Sawyer’s cheek. She hadn’t even known she was crying. “I heard you and Papa arguing once or twice about it. And … when I was in grade seven, you used to, um …” She paused, chuckling. “I’d see you freshen up anytime Hannah was on her way over. Her mom would always drop her off, and you’d invite her in for coffee even though you’d be late for work. After two years of that, they moved away, and you seemed so sad.”

“Melissa,” Sawyer murmured absently, surprised at how observant her daughter had been at thirteen. Melissa, she was certain, had been at least curious about women. After all these years, Sawyer still remembered how often Melissa would touch her hand over coffee. She cleared her throat. “And the third?”

“Kelly hired a new server when I was in high school. What was her name? Amanda?”

Sawyer smiled, fondly remembering the petite blond. “Ami.”

“That’s it. Well,” Bree said with a laugh, “I was old enough to notice how flustered you would get whenever she came into the kitchen. What happened to her, anyway?”

“Your father fired her.” Bree hadn’t been the only one to notice Sawyer’s attraction to Ami, but she was past being bitter over all the ways her husband would throw his control around.

“What a jerk,” Bree spat, startling Sawyer. She was rarely ever angry. “Well, he’s gone, and we can really start living now.”

Sawyer’s eyes drifted closed at her words, letting herself imagine how that might look. The idea of opening up to a possible partner was debilitating.

Before she knew it, Bree’s arms were circling her, holding Sawyer in a comforting hug. “I love you, and it seems to me that a strong, tattooed, pierced masc lesbian has caught your eye as well. What are you going to do about it?”

Sawyer huffed a laugh, opening her eyes to see Bree peering down at her phone where a new message from McCoy awaited. “She’s only seven years older than you. And, dare I say, less mature.”

“But hot , Maman ,” Bree replied, throwing her head back to laugh at Sawyer’s obvious embarrassment. She tapped her mom on the nose. “I’m not saying marry her. You haven’t dated in years. But you have to admit, she’d be a good place to start.”