“I’d rather have the real thing,” Ford said.
“Me too, love. Me too.” Sawyer sighed, and there was a brief pause as he looked up again. “There are a couple of projects here that are in need of attention, but I am doing my best to be back as soon as I can.”
“I know.” Still didn’t make him miss Sawyer any less, but he refused to let it show on his face. “I better let you go. I’ll keep you posted on the contractor and if I need you to make some calls.”
“My assistant looks like she wants to grab the phone out of my hand and march me to my next meeting.” Sawyer’s chuckle had less humor in it. He paused and then spoke again. “Ford?”
“I’m here.”
“Talk tonight?”
“It’s a date,” Ford whispered. “Love you.”
“I love you too.”
He quickly hung up so that Sawyer couldn’t hear the break in his voice or the glistening he knew was in his eyes from the unshed tears collecting there. Ford took a second to pull himself together before texting Owen for Drake’s information. He might as well crush his job since he had no one to go home to at the moment.
Ford: Hey, might have a job for Drake. Send his digits.
Owen: OMG! That's amazing. Mom will love you. Thanks Ford.
Ford laughed as he added the contact info Owen sent to his phone.
He sent a text to Drake letting him know who it was and asking if he could call him before replying to Owen with a smiley face.
Ford didn’t need Owen to thank him, because if it worked out, then he would be saving Ford’s ass.
Yup, he would focus on work and not be that person putting a cross in a calendar everyday till his boyfriend returned. Nope, he wasn’t doing that.
4
Sawyer
As he walked across the marbled foyer of his apartment building, the only thing on his mind was a cold shower and… nope, that wasn’t right. He meant a warm shower and a cold beer. He nodded at Russell, the concierge, but even that small move felt like he’d finished a set of squats at the gym. Exhausting.
It had been a series of long days since he’d been back, and Sawyer was exhausted. Of course, it didn’t help that he was working double time to try and get things sorted so he could return to Ford. There were a lot of details to handle when moving a part of his business across the country. At least he had tonight’s video call to make up for the absence. He’d been looking forward to it since he’d hung up with Ford earlier.
Sawyer stepped off the elevator to his eleventh-floor apartment, and as he maneuvered his briefcase to get the door open, his stomach made a sound something like a bear’s growl. He said a silent prayer that the food service company who catered to him had his fridge re-stocked because he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
He was pretty sure he’d reminded his assistant to get it done.
His mouth opened in a wide yawn as he turned on the light. He didn’t even have the energy to hang his coat up in the closet, bypassing that and walking straight to his living room where he tossed his peacoat and briefcase on the armchair, and his suit jacket and tie followed.
His stomach growled loudly. “Okay, okay. I get it. Food.”
Sawyer walked towards the kitchen, saying another prayer pleading that there was something other than beer in his fridge. The blinking light of his answering machine sitting on the console table that stood against the wall separating the living room and kitchen caught his eye. Sawyer’s brow lifted. Who still used the home phone? Who even had the number?
He was about to ignore it figuring it was someone trying to sell him a timeshare since he hadn’t given that number out to anyone recently. He had no idea the last time he’d even checked his messages on that phone, but then noticed the number on the answering machine—over fifteen new messages.
“What the hell?” His brow furrowed. Maybe it was Theresa. It would be like her to leave a message on his home phone… then again, it could be some old flame. He laughed as that thought slipped into his mind.
It was possible. It wouldn’t surprise him if one of his exes still had his home number. Even though using the term ex was generous.
Instead of wondering who it could be, Sawyer pushed the button to listen to the messages and headed into the kitchen. He figured he would be able to hear it from there. And if he didn’t, well, too bad. Everyone he needed to speak to had his cell.
“Hello, my name is Madison Walker.” Sawyer didn’t know the name. “I’m a social worker here in New York.” That had him pausing with his hand on the fridge. “I would really appreciate it if you gave me a call back as soon as possible.” Sawyer frowned as she rattled off a number.
A social worker? Why would she be calling him?
The second message was the same. And the next, and the one that followed that. Granted, her tone was less patient the more messages she left.
But none of them helped him understand what a social worker was doing calling him. Sawyer opened the fridge and was thankful to find stacked glass containers with meals and heating instructions on them.
He grabbed the first one, not even caring what it was, and popped it in the microwave and got it started. He walked back out to the living room, stopping in front of the machine when a thought occurred to him. Maybe you have a kid out there somewhere. He dismissed that as it came. Nope, and even if he did, whoever he had produced the hypothetical kid with would call not a social worker.
Besides, he hadn’t been with a woman in almost two years, and certainly never without a condom. Sawyer
