“Sawyer? I didn’t know you guys were on a first name basis.”
He nodded, wincing. “Yeah. Since the beginning. You’re the only one who actually calls him Mr. Cox. I’ve always just called him Sawyer.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was mad at you. I didn’t want to talk to you at all, and I certainly wasn’t going to divulge anything remotely personal.”
That made sense. “Okay,” I said as he slid his hand over my thigh under the table. “So you want to go do that? Go to Kentucky and visit these people?”
“Well, meet them, actually.”
“How have you never met them?”
“Well, when I was very young, my father made my mother cut off all contact with her side of the family because he didn’t want to associate with them.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” my mother told him. “Your poor mother.”
“My aunt told me that my father threatened to throw my mom out and not let her see her children ever again if she went against his wishes.”
“He secluded her from her own family,” my mother said sadly, her eyes scrunching up. “I bet she didn’t have friends, either.”
“No,” Nick told her. “Not that I remember.”
“Oh, love,” she said with a sigh. “I think your mother would love it if you spent time with her family.”
“I agree,” he told her, turning to me. “So that’s what I want to do, and here’s where the epiphany comes in.”
I waited.
“We’re going to film it.”
“I’m sorry?”
“We’re going to, you know, make a documentary.”
I looked at my mother and then back at him. “What?”
His grin was huge, and lit his whole face. “I’m going to go to Irvine, Kentucky, and meet my family, spend time with them and rediscover my roots, and it’s gonna be great.”
“And who’s going to film it?”
“Netflix is. They’re sending a crew with us, and we’re going to tie the whole thing into the new record. Like how Dave Grohl did with Sonic Highways.”
“I watched all those, and what you’re planning is nothing like Sonic Highways.”
“I’m not saying it’s—just, you know what I mean.”
“Holy shit,” I replied, stunned. “When were you gonna tell me all this?”
“Right before you called me a kid again and made me lose my mind.”
“I—what?”
“Like I said, you call me kid when you want to put this manufactured distance between us, and I’m so done with it I could puke.”
“The fuck is with you all calm and grown-up and easygoing alluva sudden?” I groused at him. “The hell is up with that?”
“You,” he announced, leaning over to kiss the side of my neck. “You, Locryn Barnes. You fixed me all up and set my world to rights. And now you’re going to go to Kentucky with me and stay on my aunt’s farm,” he said, grinning crazily, “with the guys.”
“No,” I assured him. “I’ll go back to Chicago, and if you want to call me when you get back to Santa Barbara, maybe we can––”
“No,” he told me. “You can either call your boss and quit Torus now, or tell him that I want you with me in Kentucky and he can bill me, but I think that seems a little like I’m paying him for your time while you sleep in my bed, and that seems a little hinky.”
“I’m sorry, what’d you just say?”
“I think it’s better to tell him you need to go on vacation until you figure out what you want to do.”
“I’m a fixer, for crissakes!” I told him. “I go where––”
“You’re only going where I am, and I don’t see what kind of fixer you can be when I’ll be tagging along, and I thought you wanted me to record my album. How am I supposed to do that if I’m gallivanting all over with you?”
“Gallivanting?”
He turned to look at my mother. “Am I not using that word right?”
“Oh no, darling, you’re using it correctly.”
He turned back to me. “Yeah, gallivanting,” he reiterated.
I threw up my hands.
“Your son is a bit of a pain in the ass,” he told her.
She snorted. “Oh, darling, I know.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side!” I accused her.
“Sweet boy, I’m always on your side.”
“You’re going to like the guys,” he told me, grinning. “And they’re going to be crazy about you.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because I’ve scared them and let them down and put them through hell more times than I can count. They won’t believe it when they get a look at you.”
“What are you––”
“The fact that they agreed to do this with me, make the pilgrimage, keep backing me up instead of looking for new gigs, and basically trusting me to do right by them and not fuck up—again—is insane. They shouldn’t, you know? The bridge should be burned, but they still believe, and I’m very blessed.”
“Listen, honey, I––”
“Also,” he said, grinning at me. “For the record, if you really want me to take you seriously, even for a second, that you don’t want to be with me, then maybe you should try and purge the word honey from the list of endearments you use when you’re talking to me.”