Sugar on the Edge(89)

She just shook her head, gave me a smile, and said, “Whatever you want, Gavin.”

I know damn well she probably went and booked me on another one right then.

“Who should I make this out to?” I ask the woman who handed me the book.

“Stephanie,” she says breathlessly, and I force the plastic smile in place.

“Sure thing, love,” I tell her, scrawling some meaningless words before handing the book back to her. “Thank you for reading it.”

The girls giggle, nod, and look as if they are about to say something, but then they slide off to the side.

Turning to look at Lindie, I lean in to her and whisper, “I swear to fucking God, if you book one more of these, I’m firing you.”

She doesn’t say anything, just smirks at me.

I put the smile back on and raise my face up to meet my next fan.

And everything I ever wished for in life stands right before me.

My head spins, my world tilts, and the floor seems to shake underneath me.

Savannah.

She stands on the other side of the table… three feet from me, clutching a copy of my book to her chest. Her amber eyes are anxious, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip. I can feel the smile slide off my face as I stare at her.

And she stares at me.

I want to leap across the table and grab ahold of her. She’s so fucking stunning, and my parched eyes run down her body. She’s wearing a brown, wool, wraparound dress that has a sash tied over her stomach with her black, wool winter coat unbuttoned over it. I know that she’s over seventeen weeks now, because I’ve been marking it on my calendar, but I can’t tell that she’s pregnant. I don’t see a swollen belly, but then again, it could be hidden by that damn sash across the middle of her stomach and her bulky coat.

Is she pregnant? Did she have an abortion? The thought makes me sick to my stomach, but no… Savannah would never do that.

Never.

My mind spins with something to say.

How are you, Savannah? No, too trite.

You’re looking well, Savannah. No, too cold.

God, I fucking miss you, Savannah. No, too desperate.

Savannah opens her mouth to say something, and I wait with my breath held deep in my lungs. Her eyebrows furrow inward, and I’m dismayed by a slight sheen of tears that form in her eyes. She snaps her mouth shut, looks at me a moment more, and then spins away as she drops the book to the floor, practically running down the line of fans and toward the entrance of the bookstore.

“Savannah,” I call out to her, but she doesn’t stop.

Lurching out of my chair, I spring over the top of the table and practically knock over the next woman standing there.

“Sorry,” I mutter as I reach out a hand to steady her and then take off after Savannah.

“Gavin,” Lindie yells out at me. “Get back here… you have fans waiting.”

I don’t pay her any mind. I can vaguely hear her offering apologies and saying, “He’ll be right back.”

My shoulder hits another person standing in the line as I scramble after the mother of my child. Another muttered apology.

I veer to the right to avoid hitting the next person, cracking my knee on a table stacked with books.

Fuck that hurt.

I curse viciously, causing gasps all around, and push onward.

When I get to the entrance doors, I burst through them and out onto the New York City sidewalk, where dozens of people are walking by. I look left and right, desperately searching for Savannah.

There… there, she is. I can see her long, brown hair swaying back and forth as she walks at a brisk pace up West 18th Street.

My mad dash continues, squeezing past people, knocking shoulders, and calling out apologies. I finally start to catch up to her at the intersection of Park Avenue where she has to wait for the light to turn green.

“Savannah,” I yell.

Her head snaps my way, and fear fills her eyes. She hastily turns right and starts running south down Park Avenue. But my legs are longer and she’s in my sights now. In four long strides, I catch up to her and grab ahold of her elbow, spinning her toward me.

“Savannah—”

Throwing my hand off her with a vicious shrug, she starts walking away from me again.

I jump forward, grab her upper arm gently, and pull her back around. “Savannah… for God’s sake, will you just wait a minute?”

Her eyes flash with anger, and she snarls, “Get your fucking hand off me.”

“No,” I tell her adamantly. “Not until you stop and just talk to me for a second.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she seethes, trying to pull free again.

I refuse to give her up though and hold firm. “Yet you came here to see me.”

“A mistake,” she says sadly, pulling free of me once more.