A Song For Rory

CHAPTER TWO

SAWYER STOOD OUTSIDE the restaurant and tugged his baseball cap farther down on his forehead. So far, he’d escaped recognition on the streets of his hometown, but he hadn’t spoken to anyone directly, either. He’d only arrived in Findlay Roads an hour ago. He’d flown into BWI Airport and rented a car for the hour-long drive to town. The trip had been impulsive, but he’d taken the text he received from his brother the night of the AHR awards as a sign.

He pulled out his phone and thumbed into the text app to read Chase’s message once more.

Way to go on the awards, bro! It’s a good thing you can sing since I’m the one who inherited the brains in the family.

Even after reading the text multiple times, Sawyer still smiled at his kid brother’s teasing. He supposed he deserved some ribbing. After all, as the older sibling, he’d tortured Chase unmercifully while they were growing up. It was hard to believe his baby brother was finishing up college next year...

Seriously, tho, long time, no see. When are you coming home for a visit? Haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving. Mom and Dad won’t ask you, but I think it’s important you come home for a while. Final exams wrap up on Friday, and then I’m going to be free all summer. Hope 2 C U soon?

Sawyer frowned, as he had the first time he’d read the text. There was something in Chase’s suggestion that hinted of uncertainty, even perhaps vulnerability. But then again, how much could a person really read into a text message?

Still, Chase was right. It had been way too long since Sawyer had last seen his family, and he couldn’t even remember when he’d last visited his hometown. Certainly not since he’d moved to Nashville, and his career had taken off. Then it had hit him.

Rory.

It was the perfect chance to see her again, since his schedule was free for the next few weeks. Sure, Perle would probably prefer that he spend that time doing interviews and the like to leverage his recent AHR win, but he’d wrapped up his concert tour the weekend before last. Soon he’d have to hit the studio to begin laying down tracks for his next album, but he only had a few songs ready to record. Songwriting hadn’t come so easily in the last couple of years. He’d taken for granted how much Rory had influenced his desire to compose songs—without her in his life the music didn’t flow like it once had. Maybe talking to her would spark some fresh ideas. He’d always been eager to get the words and music down so he could play them for her and get her feedback. Besides, he reasoned, he deserved a minivacation after the breakneck pace he’d set over the last two years.

And just like that, he’d made the decision to come home. He’d booked the flight immediately and replied to his brother that he’d see him soon. But even though he was looking forward to time with his family, he was most excited about reconnecting with Rory.

And that was how he found himself in front of Callahan’s restaurant, trying to muster up the courage to head inside. He’d put this off for too long, and even though he didn’t want to wait another minute, he wasn’t sure what to say other than “I’m sorry.”

He owed her an apology. But even more than that, he wanted her back. It had become crystal clear to him in the hours after the awards show, when all his dreams were coming true, that something was missing. That something was really a someone.

He wanted Rory. Needed her. No amount of awards could replace her. She’d been his greatest source of inspiration for as long as he could remember. She had been his constant, through years of doubt and failure. He’d been foolish to think he wouldn’t need her once he hit the big time.

It hadn’t taken too much investigative work to learn she was working that afternoon. He knew, from previous phone conversations with his mother, that Rory had gone to work for her brother after she and Sawyer had split. He also knew she’d moved back to town and into the apartment above the restaurant. According to his mother, Connor’s restaurant had finally taken off. It was mentioned as a four-star dining experience in numerous travel and culinary magazines, and it had gained huge recognition when Connor was the runner-up and then the grand prize winner in the annual Best of the Bay competitions two years in a row.

Sawyer had to admit that the exterior of the place didn’t look anything like he remembered back when Rory’s dad had owned it. The Rusty Anchor sign had been replaced with a sharp, pub-style design, and the name had been changed to the family one of Callahan’s. The place had a cozy but classy feel to it, from the redbrick facade to the black-trimmed window frames. His gaze skipped upward, toward the second floor. He wondered if Rory was up there now or if she was already down below in the restaurant. Either way, his stomach somersaulted at the thought of her being nearby. He was close. So close.

He was a ball of mixed emotions, excitement and nerves competing for first place. What would she think of him showing up here? Would she recognize it as an effort on his part to make things right? Or would she merely see it as an intrusion?

He guessed there was only one way to find out. With another tug on his baseball cap, he drew a deep breath and headed inside the restaurant.

* * *

WHEN RORY CLOCKED in for her shift at Callahan’s that afternoon, she prayed there would be no discussions about Sawyer’s Artist of the Year award. Given that he was a hometown boy and she and he had been known so long as a couple, it was often impossible to dodge his name in conversation, especially from those who didn’t understand that Rory was no longer a part of his life. She had become adept at pat responses: “No, I don’t know what he’s up to these days. He’s so busy recording and touring, you know.” Most people missed the sarcastic edge to her words, but occasionally, someone would cock their head and make their apologies before blessedly changing the subject.

She grabbed her apron from the back room and said hello to Rafael. He mumbled an incoherent greeting in response, his attention fixed solely on the washing machine he was attempting to fix. Rafael had been with the restaurant well before it had become a highly rated, popular establishment. As one of the few original employees, Rory was fond of him, in large part because of his longtime loyalty to her brother. Now that Callahan’s had become a success, Rafael had been promoted from busboy and occasional line cook to maintaining the restaurant and property.

Tying her apron in place, Rory left Rafael to his work and headed back through the kitchen to check what section she’d be working that evening.

Twenty minutes later, she had settled into her server’s routine. She’d topped up the beverages at all six of her tables, provided a fresh bread basket to table eighteen and put in the appetizer order for table sixteen. She approached the computer to tabulate the bill for her four-top at table twelve and noticed the hostess seating a lone diner at table fifteen on the outer edge of her section. It was a slightly isolated table by the window, and one that was sometimes requested by customers dining alone.

Vanessa, the hostess, caught Rory’s eye and hurried over. “I just seated a cute guy at table fifteen.”

“I saw,” Rory replied as she stuck table twelve’s bill into the receipt folder. “I’ll get to him in a minute. I have to finish up with twelve.”

“Okay, but I wanted to give you a heads-up—he asked to sit in your section.”

That got Rory’s attention. She raised her head and zeroed in on the newcomer. He was slouched over the menu, a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. His posture was relaxed, but she noticed him drumming his fingers impatiently on the tabletop.

Her stomach clenched. She’d seen that gesture a thousand times over the years, in the back rooms of bars before they’d gone onstage, in the airport before he’d shipped out for army basic training, and the day he’d sat her down in a restaurant not nearly so nice as this one to tell her about the record deal from Nashville...right before he broke up with her.

She knew every emotion that accompanied that gesture—excitement coupled with adrenaline and just enough nervousness to keep him cool under pressure. Her entire body tingled, and she wondered if she should try to pass off his table to someone else.

She immediately dismissed the thought. He’d asked for her section. He knew she was here.

Drawing a deep breath, she headed for his table, dropping off table twelve’s check and promising to return for the payment shortly. Ten steps later, she was at his side.

He was facing away from her, looking out the window and over the water. She debated how to begin, whether to admit she recognized him through his thin disguise or behave as the server she was and ask if he’d like to start with something to drink.

In the end, he saved her from having to decide. He shifted in his seat, pulling his eyes away from the gray-blue of the Chesapeake’s water, lifting his gaze to meet hers.

“I forgot.”

“Forgot what?” she asked.

“How beautiful it is here.”

The way he said it made her realize he wasn’t referring to the view, and she fought back the heat flooding her cheeks. He looked the same, maybe better than when she’d last seen him in person. Or perhaps it was her complicated emotions making him seem that way. Sawyer had always been confident, but he seemed to hold himself with even more surety now. But then, setting country music records was likely to do that to a person.

Stabs of both jealousy and grief sliced through her. He’d become famous. He’d fulfilled his dream. And beneath the layers of frustration, a part of her was exceedingly proud of him. But he’d also left her, after years of shared joys and tears, when it was most convenient for him. And she’d spent the last twenty-three months trying to come to terms with the loss of him—her high-school sweetheart, the guy she’d waited for throughout army basic training and deployment, the man she’d traveled all over the United States with as they’d performed their music and chased their dreams.

Sawyer had been her soul mate. At one time she’d been closer to him than any other person on earth, her brother included. She hadn’t had many close relationships in her life, and Sawyer knew that. But she’d had him.

Until fame came calling.

“Rory? Aren’t you going to say anything? Welcome me home?”

He’d called her beautiful, as if that could make up for the heartache he’d caused her.

Without giving it a second thought, Rory turned and grabbed a half-full glass of ice water on a table waiting to be bused.

“Welcome home,” she offered and then tipped the water over the top of his head, dousing him.

And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked away, deciding Sawyer Landry could starve before she’d serve him.

* * *

SAWYER BLINKED THE water out of his eyes and groped for a napkin to wipe his face. He dabbed at his wet chin and pulled his baseball cap lower over his forehead, hoping he wouldn’t be recognized with the attention Rory had just drawn to him.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he admitted aloud and used the sleeve of his T-shirt to mop some water from his jaw.

Seconds later, the hostess appeared with a handful of napkins, uttering profuse apologies for Rory’s behavior.

He shrugged. “I should have seen that coming. Rory never was one to take things lying down.”

The girl blinked, obviously puzzled. Then her eyes narrowed as she studied him, her brow furrowing in concentration. Sawyer looked away, hoping she wouldn’t recognize him.

“You know Rory?”

He pushed back his chair. “Yeah, I’m her—” He stopped. “An old friend,” he said after a beat and stood.

“Sir, please. I don’t know what came over her, but I’m sure the manager will treat you to a meal on the house—”

“Not bloody likely.”

Sawyer turned as Connor, Rory’s older brother, approached the table. The other man’s expression was tight with anger. Sawyer held up his hands in surrender.

“Hey there, Connor. Good to see you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“The place looks great. Your dad would have loved it.”

Connor made an angry noise in the back of his throat and took another step toward the table. Sawyer shifted his eyes to the hostess, in hope of reminding Connor they had an audience. But she wasn’t the only one watching them. From his peripheral vision, Sawyer noticed that most of the customers in the immediate vicinity had paused to witness the confrontation.

“I just wanted to see Rory,” Sawyer admitted. “I thought I’d surprise her. In retrospect, maybe showing up here wasn’t exactly the smartest way to go about it.”

Connor’s jaw clenched in reply.

“Listen, I know it’s more than I deserve, but I’d really like the chance to talk to her.”

“I’m not sure she wants to talk to you,” Connor growled.

“Fair enough. But would you mind asking her for me?”

“She’s working right now.”

Sawyer nodded. “Okay.” He sat back down in his chair. “In that case, I’ll just wait right here.”

Connor crossed his arms. “You’re not welcome here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Sawyer released a breath, trying to keep his cool. He and Connor had always gotten along in years past. Sawyer had a tremendous amount of respect for the other man, especially his devotion to his family and his dream of becoming a successful restaurateur. He’d always known Connor possessed the same Irish bullheadedness as Rory; he’d just rarely come up against its full force like this.

Still, the man was protecting his sister. And for that, Sawyer couldn’t blame him.

“What if I order something? I’d love to see what you—”

“No.” Connor’s voice was flat, brooking no argument.

Sawyer opened his mouth to respond but never got the chance.

“Oh, my gosh! You’re Sawyer Landry!”

Recognition suddenly bloomed on the hostess’s face. Sawyer grimaced. Connor blinked.

“You’re him! You’re Sawyer Landry!”

Her excitement spread through the restaurant dining room, first hushed and then louder, like the click of falling dominoes gaining speed.

Sawyer knew it wouldn’t be long before he was assailed by autograph-seekers and picture-takers. Normally, he didn’t mind—it went with the territory, after all. But he’d come here to see Rory, and he didn’t imagine a rush of groupies in the restaurant dining area would endear him to Connor.

“Please, Connor, just tell her I want to talk.”

Connor’s arms remained crossed, his nostrils flared.

One of the servers timidly approached and thrust her order pad in Sawyer’s direction. “Would you mind giving me your autograph?”

“Dani, go see to your tables.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Sawyer heard the snap of photos and looked past Connor to see several restaurant patrons brandishing their phones and clicking away in his direction. He smiled at them and gave a little wave.

Dani began to slink away with an air of disappointment surrounding her.

“How about I drop by later and bring you a signed copy of one of my CDs?” Sawyer offered to her retreating back.

Dani turned, her face lighting happily. She nodded and then caught Connor’s eye before scurrying away again. Vanessa took her cue from her coworker and followed.

Before the two men could continue their argument, a customer approached and held out her napkin, along with a pen.

“Excuse me? Mr. Landry? My daughter is a big fan, and she’d just love it if I could get her your autograph.” She held out her napkin and a pen, and he took the items in hand.

“Sure, what’s her name?”

The woman beamed. “Allison. Allie, that is. Or whichever you prefer.”

He scribbled a quick note, wishing Allie all the best, and then signed his name with a flourish.

He sensed Connor’s mounting irritation.

“Oh, thank you, thank you so much.” The woman paused. “And...would you mind taking a picture with me? Just so I can prove to her it was really you?”

“No problem.” Sawyer stepped to the side so the woman could move in beside him.

She turned to Connor and handed him her cell phone.

“Would you mind terribly?”

Connor did mind, Sawyer could see it, but he wasn’t about to deny a customer. He wordlessly took the phone, framed the shot and clicked as Sawyer grinned broadly for the camera.

“Oh, that’s just wonderful. Thank you!” The woman was speaking to him, barely sparing Connor a glance as she reclaimed her cell phone. “Thank you so much! Allie will be so excited.”

Sawyer looked at Connor, eyebrows raised as though daring him to allow this to continue. A few chairs scraped, and Sawyer had the sense a receiving line was about to form. Connor must have realized it, too, because he grabbed Sawyer by the arm and hauled him away from the table.

“In the back. Now.”

Sawyer shot one last look over his shoulder and saw several crestfallen faces as he was dragged away. Once the dining room disappeared from view, Connor warned him, “I’ll take you to her, but if she doesn’t want to talk to you, you leave through the back. You got it?”

“Got it.”

Connor hesitated, his green eyes cold. “You don’t deserve her forgiveness, you know.”

Sawyer grew serious. “I know. But I’m hoping she’ll grant it anyway.”

Connor gestured for him to follow and didn’t comment further one way or another.

* * *

RORY PACED IN Connor’s office, her black Converse sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor each time she pivoted on her heel. Normally, she found this room soothing. After the fire that had damaged a large part of the building, Harper had seen to it that the back office was remodeled into a charming work space for Connor. Though it wasn’t overly large, the slate-blue walls and sea-glass collage artwork were calming. Harper shared the space with Connor, too, and while his half of the room was usually a jumble of papers and notes, Harper’s tiny glass-topped desk remained neat and tidy, often with fresh flowers in the pottery vase displayed on the corner surface. Rory had caught Connor adding flowers to that vase on more than one occasion. It warmed her to think her brother could be such a romantic where Harper was concerned.

Today, however, she spared little thought for her brother’s love life. She was too overwhelmed with her own.

Sawyer was here. Back in Findlay Roads. In the restaurant. Sawyer was here...for her? After the last couple of years trying to separate herself from the idea of ever seeing him again, he was suddenly back. And he’d sought her out.

She was still trying to wrap her head around this revelation when a soft knock sounded on Connor’s office door.

A second later, it eased open, and Connor stuck in his head.

Behind him, she caught a glance of Sawyer. She stepped back and shook her head.

“No. Connor, no. I said I don’t want to talk to him.”

Connor grimaced. “I know, but I can’t have him in the restaurant.”

“Then kick him out!”

“He won’t go without talking to you first.”

She scowled.

“Rory, please.” Sawyer’s voice sounded from the crack in the doorway. He edged it open and stood next to Connor. “Just five minutes. Five minutes, and then I won’t bother you anymore. Please.”