“Yeah.” He glanced down for a second.
“How are they doing?”
“They’re good, all things considered.” He smiled a little and glanced back up. “I think my brother’s gonna ask her to marry him soon.”
“That’s sweet. Makes me happy to hear,” I said. “What about you? Tell me something random about yourself.”
He tapped his chin. “Okay, this might sound weird, but I can’t fall asleep without white noise.”
I tilted my head. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. When my niece was a baby, she spent some time in the NICU. My brother, Dorian, is a single dad, so I helped when I could. I read that white noise could help her sleep, so I bought a machine. Turns out, it helped me sleep too. Now, I’m basically useless without it.”
“That’s actually…really sweet.”
“That’s just my family. We always show up for each other…but if you ever need someone to give you the best white noise recs, I’ve got you. Ocean waves are a scam. It’s box fan or nothing.”
We both laughed again, and for the first time in forever, I wasn’t thinking about press, timelines, or damage control. I didn’t feel like Ellie Miles, The Brand. I just felt…like me. The girl who used to play tiny gigs in coffee shops and eat diner pie at midnight with her guitar on her back.
And sitting across from this dorky, too-handsome football player who made napkin contracts and flirted like it was his full-time job?
It was nice. Really nice.
SEVEN
Sawyer
“So,we got the end date down,” Ellie said. “Is there anything we didn’t cover?”
She had that little smile—the one that could short-circuit brain cells and make you forget your own damn name. Social security number? Gone. The fact that I was supposed to be fake dating her? Whoops.
She was cute.
Pretty.
Fucking stunning.
I mean, I knew she was. I’d always known, but it hit different this time—like my body forgot how to breathe for a second. Because holy hell, she was something else.
She was tall, graceful in that way that made it look effortless—like she had no idea every single person in the room would stare whether she was famous or not. Her collarbones looked like they’d been sketched by an angel with a great eye for detail. And her hair. God, her hair was swept up in one of those messy knots women did, and somehow, it made her look like she belonged in a shampoo commercial.
Her eyes. Fuck me. Those ocean-blue eyes saw everything and yet gave away nothing, as if she were cataloging the whole world while staying just out of reach. Her skin practically glowed under the café lights, and her mouth—don’t get me started. It was made for pop songs and trouble.
She was the kind of beautiful that made breathing feel optional.
Surprise, it’s not.
Every time she looked at me, my face betrayed me. Full grin. No control. I was a professional athlete. I trained for a living and worked to keep every muscle in top form.
Except apparently, I’d been skipping the cheek workout.
Because being around Ellie Miles? It was an Olympic-level facial exercise.
“Sawyer?” She arched a brow. “You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m great. Why?”
“You just…zoned out. I asked you a question, and you just…stared at me.”
