Forget You Page 17

  The best gift of the night though had been Lauren’s to Paige. Hands down.

  Before she handed it to Paige, she had reminded us all of when she and Ian met, and how he’d stumbled across her collection of vibrators beneath her bed. Paige had said she’d never bought one for herself before, while we were all out drinking at Shooters talking about it, and Lauren had made a comment that she knew what she would be getting her for Christmas.

  Sure enough, when Paige opened the long, slender box, there was a purple vibrator neatly tucked inside among a sea of red and green tissue paper. If Paige hadn’t already been so inebriated, she wouldn’t have taken the gift with such stride. Her face would have gone through twenty shades of red, and she more than likely would have gotten pissed at Cameron for the comment he’d made about Blaire needing to point them in the direction of their room for the night, because he planned to show her how to work the thing.

  It had been a good night, one I was glad to have invited Sawyer to. He had clicked with everyone instantly, but mostly with Jason. I figured it was because their personalities were practically the same—both were laid back and casual. Once the alcohol got a bigger grip on him though, Sawyer’s comical side slipped out more and more throughout the night. Thinking back, I could even pinpoint the moment when I knew him and Cameron were going to become good friends.

  Somehow, we’d gotten on the topic of panties and lingerie—I was sure it was all the talk about dildos—and Sawyer busted out with, “Panties, they’re not the best thing on earth, but they’re next to it.” Everyone had died laughing, except Paige. After Cameron explained it to her, because she didn’t get it, she had finally joined in. Cameron had nodded in my direction, and I knew he was happy for me and approved of Sawyer completely. I would be lying if I said that his opinion in regards to Sawyer didn’t matter, because it did.

  Cameron’s opinion on things, even my love interests, would always matter. He was like family to me.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Cameron whispered from behind me. I turned to face him at the sound of his voice. “Orange juice, yuck. What, you couldn’t figure out the coffee maker?”

  I pursed my lips together. “First off, you know I don’t like your little pet names, and second, how the hell do you know me so well?”

  He grinned like a fool. “You didn’t seem to mind someone’s little pet names for you last night. I figured you might have just given up the aversion to them. Lastly, I know you so well because you remind me of myself. I can’t even begin to figure that damn coffee pot out either. Where are the directions?”

  “That’s why I went for the orange juice.” I laughed. “Lauren says it’s a proven hangover cure. I’m hoping some headache relief rests in the bottom of this glass, because I might puke if I have to drink more than one of this tangy stuff.”

  “I’ll wait until someone wakes up who can work this thing.” He reached into the cabinet by the sink, and pulled out a glass. I watched him as he filled it with water. “Last night was a blast. I don’t think I’ve gotten that shitty in a while.”

  “I know.” I nodded. “Paige seemed pretty lit when we all meandered off to bed too.”

  Cameron ran a hand over his jaw. “She was. I actually stayed up with her last night while she got sick in the guest bathroom. She’s going to be a fun one to be around today.”

  “Thank goodness it’s Sunday, and her shop is closed.” I smiled.

  “Seriously.” He took a sip of water, and leaned against the counter. His hazel eyes locked on me, and I knew he was getting ready to get serious with me. “I really like Sawyer. I know I don’t have a say in who you date or anything.” He paused, and I rolled my eyes because I knew he would expect it.

  “Not at all actually,” I added.

  “But, I really like him, and I think the two of you work well together.” Cameron inhaled and then released his breath slowly, his eyes never dropping from mine in the process. “You deserve to be happy, truly happy, Eva. I hope Sawyer is the one who can give you that. He seems like a good guy.”

  “He is a good guy,” I insisted. My throat was becoming dry, and my eyes a little misty. Cameron and I hardly ever got sentimental like this. The few times over the years when we had, I could count them all on one hand. Normally, we dealt with the heavy stuff by tossing out cynical and sarcastic comments to one another. “I really like him, Cam.”

  “I can tell. I mean, Jesus, you must have undressed him with your damn eyes seventy-five times last night right in front of us all.” He grinned, tossing us right back to the way we were, and letting the serious moment fly out the window.

  This was why I loved him.

  I shoved his arm playfully, and smiled wide. “Like you have any room to talk, Mr. Point-me-in-the-direction-of-the-guest-bedroom-so-I-can-show-her-how-to-work-this-thing.”

  Cameron’s head came back, and he laughed. It was rich and loud, something I was happy to hear. There had been a time—almost two years ago now—when it could have been a sound I was never able to hear again. Cameron had a dark past, but he’d pulled through.

  “Paige is probably going to be pissed about that comment this morning.” I shook a finger at him.

  “Nah, she’ll be fine.” He waved my words away, and moved to stand beside me at the door overlooking the lake. “Hell, she might not even remember it.”

  “Oh, trust me, as soon as she remembers what Lauren got her, she’ll remember it,” I said.

  Bumping my shoulder into his, we lapsed into a comfortable silence as we stared out at the fog slipping over the icy lake water in the early morning light. The moment was peaceful and perfect. Things in my life could not have felt any more complete and wonderful. I sipped the remainder of my orange juice, thinking of my friends—who I thought of as my family—and of Sawyer. Definitely Sawyer.

  * * * *

  The scent of butter and melted cheese met my nose, making my mouth water. I glanced over at Sawyer as he flipped the sandwich in the pan, revealing the golden to perfection side he’d just expertly cooked.

  “So, what is it that has you believing grilled cheese sandwiches are the final cure for a hangover?” I asked. I swung my crossed ankles back and forth from where I sat, perched up on the countertop beside where he cooked.

  He’d woken around ten in the morning, and we had decided to head to my place for a shower and something to eat. Grilled cheese sandwiches to be exact. Sawyer was as sure on his theory of a hangover cure as Lauren was about hers. The orange juice trick of hers seemed to help some, but not as much as she had insisted. At least not for me. I was hoping Sawyer’s theory would be what knocked the remaining hints of drinking from last night out of my system.

  “It’s all in the cheese and butter.” He used a spatula to press the sandwich flat in the pan. “The combination of the thick cheese with the little bit of greasy butter makes your stomach look the other way while the bread soaks up all the alcohol, and eases the hangover away,” he said, as though it were a scientifically proven process. I cracked up.

  “Okay, I’ll try it out,” I said. “It does make sense, somewhat.”

  Sawyer placed the sandwiches on napkins, and scooted one toward me.

  “Enjoy,” he said.

  After the first bite of gooey goodness, I was hooked. I’d never tasted a grilled cheese sandwich so good.

  “This is like heaven in my mouth,” I muttered between bites.

  Sawyer nodded his agreement. “I told you it was the best hangover food ever invented. I don’t get too many hangovers, but when I do, this is my go-to meal.”

  “I will totally have to remember this.” I took another bite.

  “It’s all in the amount of butter, and the two slices of cheese,” he reminded me. “That’s all there is to making the perfect grilled cheese.”

  “Where did you learn how to make them like this?” I asked around another mouthful of the gooey goodness.

  “My brother,” he said. “Ryker was the grilled cheese master.”

&n
bsp; A small smile crept along his face at either the memory of his brother or the thought of the first time he’d learned this secret. I couldn’t be sure which. Either way, it was nice to see him smile while talking about his brother. Every time Ryker was mentioned, Sawyer seemed to shut down and allow his misery from his brother’s death to drown him. Maybe he was finally beginning to accept things in a new, better way. I was happy to be there to witness it all happen.

  “Are you ready for a shower?” I crumpled my napkin up and tossed it into the trash from where I sat.

  “Nice shot,” he complimented me. “Dang, did you breathe while eating that thing?”

  I laughed. “What? I was starved!”

  His phone rang from somewhere in my living room. Setting his sandwich down on the counter, he went to answer it.

  “Don’t even think about eating mine. I see that look in your eyes,” he called over his shoulder in a teasing tone.

  “No way. I’m full.”

  Slipping off the counter, I grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and poured some water while listening to Sawyer’s one-sided conversation.

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “I understand, sir.”

  My heart sank. It was his commanding officer. I prayed he wasn’t about to be sent somewhere again. Was this normal? Was this what I had to look forward to every few weeks, him being sent away to do National Guard stuff?

  “Yes, sir, bright and early,” I heard him say.

  Turning to face him, I leaned against the counter and sipped my water. His eyes shifted to mine, and in them, all I saw reflected was worry.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said, just before hanging up.

  Sawyer tossed his phone down on my couch, and ran a hand over the scruff along his jaw. The air in my apartment grew tense and thick. He was being sent somewhere, I knew it, and from the looks of it, he wasn’t too happy as to where. My pulse raced while I waited for him to speak.

  “I’m being sent out again. This time overseas to an undisclosed location,” he finally said.

  I hesitated in responding, because I wanted to see if he would say anything more. When he didn’t, I pressed the issue a little further. “Okay, when?”

  “Two days.” he said. “There was some talk about us all being sent out when I was still studying in AIT, but none of us ever thought it would actually happen. I guess it is though.”

  Setting my glass on the counter, I stared at my bare feet. “But that means you’ll be leaving right before Christmas.”

  “Christmas Eve to be exact. I know.” His voice was low, and filled with the same kind of disappointment as mine.

  “What about your family? Won’t they be upset?” I said trying to deflect the feelings bubbling to the surface of my mind.

  I shouldn’t be the one upset over him leaving during the holiday, his family should. They were the ones who knew him best, and to whom he would be spending the bulk of the holiday with, not me. I glanced at him to gauge his reaction to my question.

  “I should probably call them.” He moved to plop down on my couch, all the excitement and light heartedness from ten minutes ago depleted entirely from his system.

  “How long will you be gone for?”

  He didn’t look at me when he answered with, “Six weeks.”

  “Will it be dangerous or is this something along the lines of the last time?” I asked. The question burned my tongue when I said the words, because I was deathly afraid of his answer.

  Looking up at me, his lips formed into a thin line, and I knew I wouldn’t care for his answer.

  “I can’t give you any details, mainly because I’m not allowed to, but also because I don’t have many at those points myself. With the little bit I do know, I can say the answer to your question is…yeah, it’s most likely going to be a little dangerous,” he said.

  Panic slipped through me. His answer was too cryptic, leaving me wanting more, but I knew it was an honest one if nothing else. At least as honest an answer as he could possibly give me, a civilian.

  I watched him as he began dialing the number for his parents. How would they handle the news that he was being deployed before the holiday? Before I could think of an answer, my mind drifted toward the most selfish question of all: How could I handle celebrating this holiday season while he was stationed someplace dangerous?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  SAWYER

  I holed up with Eva for the next two days, dragging her with me wherever I went, which included attending an early Christmas dinner at my parents’ house. It had been the first time I’d brought anyone home to meet them since high school. Eva had been funny and smart throughout the entire dinner, and my parents had both adored her. I’d had no doubts that they wouldn’t, but I was still relieved with how well the dinner had gone.

  Afterward, we went shopping for junk food—all of which were my favorites—because Eva insisted on reminding me that wherever I was going, I wouldn’t have some of the pleasures of America, and I needed to indulge while I still could. She had called out of work for the two days, which from the amount of discomfort and anxiety doing so had caused her, I was positive was something she rarely ever did unless she had to.

  I couldn’t put into words the amount of happiness spending that much uninterrupted time with her had brought me. Telling myself it would be enough to see me through whatever the military had in store, I’d kissed her temple and hoisted my duffle bag over my shoulder while leaving out before the morning sun to meet my unit, and begin the formalities of departure.

  As I stood there, listening to my commanding officer disclose more information to my unit while we all waited to board a plane, I thought back to last night and the final thing Eva had said to me before she’d drifted off to sleep, her head resting on my shoulder.

  “When I find someone to love, I don’t want it to be forever. I want it to be for the rest of ever. It sounds so much better.”

  My commanding officer said something about the mission taking six weeks, and my heart dropped to my toes. It was just the reminder I didn’t need right now. Six weeks without Eva. Licking my lips, I prayed she wouldn’t forget me during the length of time.

  The guy beside me nudged my arm with his elbow and whispered, “I wonder how may Dear John letters we’ll see come through around week four?”

  I blinked. Shit. The possibility of receiving one myself spliced through me. I prayed Eva didn’t send one while I was away. I didn’t know which would be worse—to have someone forget you completely or send you one of those suckers. I hoped that I would never have to find out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  EVA

  I hated the fact that I had gone to bed snuggled up beside Sawyer, and now I was waking with him gone. Staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, I thought back over the last two days with vivid detail, and then moved back even farther in our relationship. We were nearing the two month marker. That’s how long we’d been together, how long it had been since he’d first entered my life, and how long it had taken me to start falling for him.

  I was falling for him.

  This was something I was positive of now. There were so many things about him I’d been wrong about in the beginning, so many things I’d misread from the start. He wasn’t cocky or arrogant; he was comical and cute.

  My mind flashed back to the college, frat house comedy we’d watched last night, after he cooked us homemade tacos. I laughed as I remembered the scene with the sorority girls running around topless and screaming. Rolling my eyes, I had said something about that being just what this movie needed, more topless girls. My voice had been dripping with sarcasm. Sawyer had claimed they all looked like they were having fun. I’d gone on to say that one of the girl’s nipples looked like peanuts, then informed him the other girls’ nipples were hard because they were all probably freezing, and not because they were enjoying themselves. And Sawyer had said, “That might be true, but without nipples, breasts would be pointless.” I’d nearly peed my pants while dying of laught
er. God, I missed him already.

  Six weeks.

  That’s how long I would have to go without hearing another random one-liner. The list of other things I would miss about him stacked up in my mind, nearly crushing me under its weight.

  Blinking back the tears pooling in my eyes, I slipped out of bed and made my way to the living room. Flipping on the light, I set up my Pilates DVD, and began going through the motions, hoping it would calm my mind, and rid me of the anxiety building inside me. After completing my full thirty minutes for the day, I headed to the coffee maker. A large box wrapped horribly in Santa Claus Christmas paper sat in front of my coffee machine. There was a small note attached to it.

  I can’t believe I forget about this. Sorry. Here’s your Christmas present from me. Enjoy.

  — Sawyer

  P.S. This one comes with directions, so you should have no trouble figuring it out.

  P.P.S. I’ll miss you, Eva.

  The paper shook in my trembling fingers as the tears I’d been willing away since first waking fell free. Damn it. I’d turned into one of those sappy, blubbering girls I couldn’t stand. Sawyer Keeton had gotten to me in the best of ways. My thumb slipped over his final sentence, and I wished he’d woken me so I could have kissed him goodbye.

  Setting the note on the counter, I placed my hands on my hips and stared at the box in front of me. Laughing at his horrible wrapping job, I began tearing the paper off. When I saw what his gift was, I laughed even harder. It was the same coffee maker Blaire and Jason had—the one neither Cam nor I had been able to figure out because of all the damn buttons.

  Opening the box, I pulled the black and chrome machine out, and inhaled deeply as I took in the size of the book that came along with it. Thumbing through, I was mildly surprised when I realized only a quarter of the manual was in English. Scanning through the pages marked as set up, I attempted to follow the directions so I could at least have a perfect cup of coffee on this already shit day.