Offside Bride (Toronto Titans #2)

12. Sawyer

12

SAWYER

I stumble through the front door, my body aching from the game we lost, and the long flight home. All I want is to collapse on the couch and see Maggie’s face, even if she’s scowling at me. But as I step inside, I'm greeted by…chaos?

There are pistachio shells everywhere. The couch is covered in what looks like birdseed. There’s a whole tree in the middle of the walkway. And is that…poop on the coffee table?

“What the…”

A loud squawk echoes through the house, and something grey and feathered zooms past my head.

“Maggie!” I yell, ducking as the blur makes another pass. “There’s a flying rat in our living room!”

“Oh, you’re home!” Maggie’s voice floats in from the kitchen, sounding way too chipper for the chaos around me. She bounces into the room, grinning like she’s just won the lottery. “How was the game?”

“Never mind the game,” I say, gesturing wildly at the feathered disaster zone. “What’s with the indoor aviary?”

Maggie beams. “That’s Otto! Isn’t he handsome?”

“Otto,” I repeat, feeling like I’ve stepped into some bizarre alternate universe. “And why is Otto redecorating our living room?”

“Oh, he’s just exploring,” Maggie clicks her tongue and holds out her arm. To my amazement, the grey menace swoops down and lands on her like some kind of feathered familiar.

“Otto, baby, this is your daddy. Say hello.” She shoves the bird right in my face. “Tell Otto you love him, Sawyer. It’s important he feels wanted.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”

“Otto loves daddy, don’t you Otto?”

The bird squawks something vulgar I don’t care to repeat, then makes a sound like a police siren.

“Come on, sweetie,” she coos, carrying him to an elaborate cage the size of my walk-in closet. “Time for bed.”

“Maggie,” I say slowly, trying to keep my voice calm. “Why is there a parrot in our house?”

She blinks at me innocently. “You said to buy something pretty.”

“I meant shoes!” I exclaim, running a hand through my hair. “Or a purse. Or literally anything that isn’t a flying, pooping machine!”

Maggie just shrugs, still smiling. “Well, Otto is pretty.” She raises on her tiptoes toward the high perch and makes a kissing sound at the parrot. “Aren’t you, Otto? Is Otto a pretty boy?”

“Squawk! Pretty boy.”

Maggie grins at me. “See?”

I toss my overnight bag on the floor and stalk toward Maggie, crowding her space. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Maggie blinks up at me, all wide-eyed innocence. “Enjoying what, exactly?”

I lean in close, my voice dropping to a sultry growl. “You think you’re being so clever.”

I can see the effect I’m having on her—her pulse quickens, her pupils dilate. But she’s stubborn, my little troublemaker, trying to play it cool. She lifts her chin defiantly.

“I think you think I’m clever,” she retorts, but her voice wavers slightly.

Closing the gap between us, I rumble, “Here’s what’s going to happen, Trouble. You’re going to be a good girl and make an appearance in public with me. You’re going to put on a pretty dress and go to dinner with your husband. And you’ll put on a show as a doting wife, pretend you can’t keep your hands off me, and we’ll let fans take pictures of us so we can sell this marriage to the media.”

Maggie’s breathing heavily now, her eyes locked on mine. “What if I don’t feel like it?”

I lift her chin with my thumb, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Look at me. No more stunts. No more stories about herbal brownies or parking lot proposals. No more games.”

She rolls her eyes and starts to turn away, but I gently grab her forearm. “I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon with my agent. I’ll make dinner reservations for later that night. Then, I’ll be home to pick you up at six. Be ready forme.”

Before she can retort, I bring her wrist to my lips and plant a soft kiss on the inside. Then I release her and head for my room, desperately in need of a cold shower.

As I’m walking away, I hear a high-pitched whistle and a taunting, “Bye, nerd,” followed by a scratchy cackle.

Damn parrot.

The next day, I’m sitting across from Bruce in his office, trying to focus on the endorsement deals he’s lining up, but my mind keeps drifting to Maggie. I wonder what dress she’ll wear tonight, how her eyes will light up when she sees the restaurant.

“Sawyer, you listening?” Bruce snaps his fingers in front of my face.

“Yeah, yeah. The protein shake deal. I’m all ears.”

My phone buzzes. It’s my sister. My stomach drops.

“Hold that thought,” I tell Bruce, answering the call.

I step out into the hallway, my palms sweating. “Sis? What’s up?”

Her voice is tight with tension. “Dad’s lawyer called. He’s…he’s making a deal with the Feds.”

The world tilts. “What kind of deal?”

“The kind where he sings like a canary. Sawyer, this is bad. Really bad.”

My mind races. If Dad talks, a lot of dangerous people are going to be very unhappy. And they might decide to take that unhappiness out on his family.

“I need to fly out there,” I say, ready to sprint to the airport.

“No!” She almost shouts. “Stay put. It’s not safe.”

“Okay, I need to make some calls. Can you fly out here?”

“I can’t leave Boston right now. I’ve got this handled for now. Just…be careful, okay?”

“You be careful. Is there anyone with you right now?”

“Uncle Whitey.”

I run a hand through my hair, panic rising in my chest. “That’s not giving me any confidence in this situation.”

“He’s got a couple guys outside my house. I’m okay.”

“All right, but I want you to come stay with me as soon as you can. I’ll figure something out in the meantime.”

I hang up, my head spinning. I need to make some calls, figure out how to keep my sister safe. And Maggie. Oh crap, Maggie. Dinner. I should call her, explain. But the words won’t come. Instead, I type out a quick text:

“Something came up. Can’t make dinner. Raincheck?”

It’s cowardly, I know. But right now, that’s all I have in me.

When I go back in the office, Bruce is staring at me, concerned.

“Everything alright?”

“Just…family stuff,” I mutter, collapsing back into the chair.

“So, about that protein shake…” Bruce starts.

I hold up a hand. “Actually…I’m sorry, but I need to go. Send me an email with the terms and I’ll look at it.”

As I rush out, my phone buzzes again. A text from Maggie.

“K.”

Just one letter, but somehow it stings worse than any insult she could have hurled at me.