A Song For Rory

Rory nodded in confirmation. “So, do you have any tiny umbrellas?”

“I think we have some in the back. Give me a minute to see if I can scrounge one up for you.” He gave her a wink, but she pretended not to see it as she shifted her attention away from the bar.

She hoped the other shower guests weren’t way ahead of her. She didn’t normally have a very competitive streak, but she didn’t want to end up dead last in this game. She had a feeling Paige would somehow hold it against her. She wouldn’t be surprised if the other woman had a game planned to name the worst bridesmaid in the wedding party. Not that Rory was shirking her bridesmaid duties. It was just that Paige always seemed to expect so much more.

While Rory waited for the bartender to return, she reached for the bowl of peanuts on the bar. She picked through them, not really all that hungry even though the shower luncheon had consisted of mostly dainty finger foods. She’d probably be starving by the time she punched in for her shift at Callahan’s that night. Maybe she’d try to get there a little early and grab a bite.

She pushed the peanuts aside, then tapped her fingers restlessly on the smooth plane of the bar. With nothing else to occupy her, she turned her attention to the hi-def televisions mounted behind the counter. An entertainment channel was running—she recognized several of the starlets that flashed across the screen. There was no sound coming from the TV, but the captioning was announcing which of the featured celebs were going to be on the next season of some hit reality show. She leaned against the counter and watched the monitor without any real interest. She was just starting to space out, wondering what was taking the bartender so long and whether Erin had found all the scavenger items on her half of the list, when the entertainment host shifted to the next story on his agenda.

She stiffened as the familiar face of her ex-boyfriend flashed across the screen.

“Sawyer,” she breathed.

The headline ticker across the bottom of the screen announced him as the winner of the coveted Artist of the Year honor at the American Heartland Radio awards show. She experienced a pang of grief and a thrill of pride, both at the same time.

He’d done it. Not only had he found success as a country music star, but now he also had the most prestigious award in the industry to back it up.

The image shifted to him on a stage, holding his prize and speaking to the audience. Her heart fluttered as she noted that success had only enhanced his handsomeness. The light brown hair that he’d always kept on the longer side had been trimmed and styled, and the dusting of scruff along his jaw added a layer of cowboy cute that was surely a hit with female fans. She swallowed, peanut crumbs sticking in her throat.

“You a fan?”

She jerked, realizing the bartender had returned. He was holding out a miniature yellow drink umbrella, and it appeared as if he’d been standing there waiting for her to take it for some time.

“No, I’m not,” she replied, her voice clipped.

“If you say so.” He looked at the television, and Rory tried not to follow his gaze. She didn’t need to see Sawyer again, didn’t need to feel the stab of betrayal and heartbreak once more.

After nearly two years, she’d thought it wouldn’t hurt so much. Wasn’t that what everyone had told her? It takes time. Wounds heal. You’ll find love again...and all that. But Rory wondered how much more time she’d need? How much longer would her tender heart ache at the mention of his name or the sight of his face on a magazine, website or on TV? When could she finally stop avoiding country radio, afraid to hear his latest hit and wonder if he ever thought of her, if he ever missed her like she missed him?

“Don’t you need to get back to your party?”

Rory snapped to attention a second time as the bartender spoke to her. She tried not to bristle. What business was it of his if she wanted to hide out in here, away from the fuss and frills of this wedding business? Every time she turned around these days, she was confronted with reminders of love and happily-ever-after. She was thrilled for her brother and Harper—of course she was. But their impending nuptials were a reminder, every single day, that she was alone. Maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad if she and Sawyer hadn’t been together for so long, if they hadn’t had so many dreams and plans of a life together.

She shook her head. No use going there. She forced herself to look back at the television. Sawyer still dominated the screen, but it appeared to be a post-awards interview. Her eyes flicked to Sawyer’s face as he was being interviewed on a red carpet. She didn’t know what the reporter was asking, didn’t allow herself to read the captions. But she watched Sawyer’s face, the happy glow, and let the hurt and anger take hold of her once more.

All of Sawyer’s dreams had come true. And after almost two years of silence, she doubted that she even entered his thoughts anymore.

CHAPTER TWO (#ue6dc3975-15ab-5eff-b28f-dabc1393621f)

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.