Page 52 of Old Money

I swallow. I look at him, but he just smiles, nodding.

We don’t need to hide anything.

“I, uh…I’m actually a student at Carrington,” I say. Cato’s eyes flash to Julian then back to me. “I was trying to escape campus the day of the shooting, and?—”

“She saved my life that day,” Julian says, looking nowhere but at me. His father’s eyes grow wide as they land on me. “I was just arriving to campus for my speech when the shooter had started. Sawyer was running and saw us. She stopped us from walking right in the shooter’s direction. We ended up helping her get off campus, and we’ve been attached ever since.”

The table is silent, and I feel my palm getting clammy pressed up against Julian’s. But he doesn’t budge. In fact, he just squeezes it tighter, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

“Well, I, uh…I don’t know what to say, Sawyer,” Cato says, his eyes moving back and forth between me and Julian. “And I’m not a man who is rendered speechless often. Thank you. Thank you for warning my son.”

I look up at him, our eyes locked. I know there are a lot of complicated sides to this man, but the look in his eyes right now feels genuine. And I’m uncomfortable. I don’t like to be thanked. I don’t like to be complimented. And I do not know what to do with this.

Deflect. Deflect.

“I was just in the right place at the right time,” I reiterate. “Julian is the one who got me out.”

“Sounds like you saved each other,” Brooks chimes in, presumably before Cato can jump back on the obviously-you’re-just-using-my-son train. I look at him, and he smiles softly.

“That’s what we like to think,” Julian says, looking down at me and kissing the top of my head.

“So you’re a college student, then,” Cato says, a statement rather than a question. I nod. “Makes you seem like an old man, Julian,” he says with a coy smile.

“Just taking notes from you, Dad,” Julian quips with a nod in Angelina’s direction. Cato smiles and clears his throat, turning back to me.

“And what is it you’re studying?”

“Communications,” I say. “My track is PR, but I’m not sure what I want to do yet. Just something to pay the bills and help my mom out.”

I figure there’s no use in playing any games or pretending to have decorum that I most certainly don’t. Lay it all out for them so there is nothing left for them to sniff out. Besides, I lead a pretty boring, lower-middle-class life. Sniff away.

“And where are you from?”

“Seattle,” I say. “Actually, I’m going back in a few days to see my mom for the holidays. It’ll be a fast turnaround, but I can’t wait to see her just for a little while.”

Cato smiles, hanging on every word I say.

“Is it just you and your mom, then?” Angelina asks, taking a sip of her wine. I nod.

“Yep, just us,” I say.

“And why the fast turnaround? Doesn’t the university get a few weeks off for the semester break?” Cato asks.

“Yes, we do. Classes have been canceled since the shooting, anyway. But I can’t take too many days off work.” This catches him by surprise.

“Ah, I see. And what do you do for work?”

“I work as a clerk at a mini-mart off campus,” I say. “Nothing fancy, but it pays for what my scholarships don’t.”

“Scholarships, plural,” Cato says. “Impressive. Sounds like you’re no stranger to hard work, Sawyer.”

I shake my head.

“Doesn’t scare me,” I say.

He doesn’t say much else, but throughout the rest of lunch, I can feel his eyes on us, watching the way we interact, catching any display of affection Julian may have toward me. But every time he looks at us, I look back. I lock my eyes on him.

“Alright,” Angelina finally says, clapping her hands together, “it’s about that time. The stylists should be here any minute. Sawyer, why don’t you come with me? We can get pampered before the party.”

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