In retrospect, it might have seemed desperate of me to dress in a skin tight black dress and walk into a car shop, full of greasy and sweaty men that gossiped even more than high school kids.

But here was the thing, a couple of months before I moved back in town, Manny casually texted me the news that Sawyer had broken up with his girlfriend. And that, dear reader, was the real reason why I returned to Orlando instead of, say, move to California, where the art scene was probably even more exciting than in the entire east coast.

Because if I learned something during years of wandering around different cities, looking for a way to make my mark in the world, was that despite all the people I met, despite the cute boys I'd met in college, or the French boyfriend, my mind still drifted back to Sawyer Logan. I wondered what he was doing, if he'd finally replaced the cane that Manny had given him with something less cheesy and more than anything else, I wondered if he'd found another love.

Although we lost contact for the past few years, I did hear about him from papa or Toni. Sawyer was still employed in papa's shop, and had actually moved up the ladder to become the lead technician in the oldest shop. And of course, there was the fact that Toni and Adam had decided to name Sawyer as Ariel's godfather. Since I was her godmother, that meant that every time there was a family event, Sawyer was there.

That was how at some point I learned he'd found someone new, from a picture that Toni took during Ariel's birthday one year that I was in Paris. Sawyer was in the middle of the frame, lifting Ariel up in the air. His face was barely visible under the endless frills and lace of Ariel's princess dress, which he'd given to her as a gift, by the way, but from what I could see he was smiling from ear to ear. And next to him was a pretty redhead that looked at him like he was the best thing since sliced bread.

Not long after that I accepted to go on a date with a guy I met at a gallery in Paris, and the rest was history.

I had no idea what had happened between them, but I knew I had to take my shot. When I told Lina and Courtney of my plan over a phone call, they'd posed the risk that I would become his rebound, that if the pretty redhead wanted to get back with him, I'd be tossed aside.

It was a risk I wanted to take.

What I felt for Sawyer in my senior year of high school was much stronger than any crush I'd ever had, even over the one I'd had for Courtney's then boyfriend. But the feelings I had for Sawyer hadn't died down over the years. Not because of time, distance or the partners I'd had.

My heart beat only for him and I was certain of it.

I took a deep breath and walked into the shop. The first one I found was Manny and without even asking me he smiled and said, "He's under the red Corvette at the back."

I did a double take at him but still thanked him. I took a second to pull the hem of my ridiculous dress down just a bit and headed into the work area. A wolf whistle died soon after a second guy said that I was the owner's daughter. But I still attracted quite a few looks as I made my way to the back where the red, flashy car rested on stands.

I recognized Sawyer's legs in his stained, grey overalls, because his right leg had never healed to be quite like the left. There was too much of a bend at his knee, which was why he would need a walking cane forever. I saw Manny's gift propped up against a chair nearby and shook my head. It had an ugly silver skull for a handle with red stones for eyes.

Since he was under the car, hearing only the clangs of whatever he was fiddling with, he had no idea of my approach. I cleared my throat, loud, but that still didn't catch his attention. It was only until I called his name that he stopped.

He must have thought he imagined it, because he went back to work. I almost wanted to laugh, but I was too nervous.

"Sawyer, it's me. The ex-princess."

That made him freeze.

He rolled himself out from under the car and my jaw dropped. Sawyer was still of the tradition of not wearing his overalls up all the way, wrapping the sleeves around his waist. Except that right now he wasn't wearing his customary wife beater. His skin was slick with sweat and the odd splotch of grease, and in the years since I'd last seen him in person, he'd continued working out so hard that he now looked larger than life. All muscle and power. But it wasn't that, or the long hair piled atop his head in a bun, or the beard that I itched to stroke, that made me lose my mind entirely.

It was the tattoo on his right side. I recognized the black lines that twisted and turned into a picture as if I'd been the one who made it. And a second later I realized that I had been the one who made it.

It was the sketch of his motorcycle, the one he'd bought with his own hard earned money that his father stole to escape on the day of the attack.

I blinked so hard that I was able to fool my eyes into not crying.

"Aurora."

It wasn't a question. His voice caressed me with warmth.

"Sawyer," I said, out of breath.

He braced his hands on the floor and pulled himself up mostly by the strength of his left leg. He hobbled over to the chair and grabbed his cane. I looked up at him as he stood in front of me, grey eyes deep and searching mine.

"I'm back," I said, hoping it was for good. But that would depend on him. "Can we talk?"

It took a few seconds for the words to reach him. It almost was like he didn't believe what he was seeing. But then he started heading over to papa's office, which he now shared, and I followed right behind him. There was air conditioning inside, and since he was all hot and sweaty, he untied the sleeves of his overalls and put them all the way up. I tried not to stare as he zipped it up, but I couldn't help myself. He was more delectable than I remembered, and I knew instantly that my painting did not do him any justice.

I was kind of surprised he zipped the garment all the way up, but then I looked up and saw that despite all the changes he still had the same annoying grin that was the bane of my adolescence existence.

"I'm all eyes, I mean ears," he said, which must have been on purpose because he started laughing.

I told my beating heart to calm the heck down, but hearing that deep laugh again was doing things to me that I was not ready for quite yet.

I rubbed my damp palms down the sides of my dress, and the motion caught his eyes. They lingered on my body for quite a bit, which both embarrassed me but gave me hope. I cleared my throat, trying to find the best way to have this conversation. Should I start by saying I had a gift for him? And should I say that the gift was my painting or myself? Either way, I had never learned the art of finesse, but one thing I did know how to do better than most people, and that was to go after what I wanted.

I took a deep breath. Then another one, for good measure. I breached the distance in one long step, wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

The feeling of his beard against my skin was a novel concept, but it was a lot softer than I anticipated. I cupped his cheek to get a better angle, thankful that his lips were very responsive. They met mine with curiosity, as if this kiss was the very first one. The strange thing was that I could feel his body quite stiff against me, and not for good reasons. I pulled back and looked up at him, a question hanging between us. But he looked even more confused than I was.

He cleared his throat. "I thought we were going to talk."

I felt a stab of embarrassment. My hands dropped to my sides and I took a small step back.

"Um, right," I whispered. I guessed if I'd been going about my regular business merrily and someone from my past suddenly showed up to kiss me I'd be pretty freaked out too. I ran my fingers through my short bob of hair and said it all.

"I want to give you something." As his eyebrows went up, I finished with a stellar, "A painting. Myself. Both."

What an idiot.

In the silence, I wondered why I couldn't have found a more sophisticated way to say this. Sawyer had always affected me, but never had I been as tongue tied around him until the moment I realized that I wasn't the one who held all the power over him anymore. I wasn't perfect little Aurora Martinez, the best student of the class, daughter of his boss. He was no longer the bad boy who roamed the halls with a bad attitude and the smell of smoke and broken hearts trailing behind him.

I was a successful woman in the art scene, with my own freelance business and a portfolio that spanned two continents.

He was a survivor who grabbed life by the horns and wrestled it to submission, his discipline carved into the muscles of his body and the calluses in his hands.

At that moment he was so perfect to me, it was like I was in front of a painting by Leonardo Da Vinci. And when he remained there immobile, in silence, looking at me like I'd lost my mind somewhere in my travels, I figured that he finally saw me for who I was. Imperfect. Selfish. Silly.

"Okay," I said with a broken voice after too long had passed. I pulled the hem of my dress down once more and turned around. I hoped that he'd catch me, pull me against him and tell me that he'd been waiting for those stupid words all his life, but it didn't happen. I crossed the work area and no one whistled at me this time. Outside in the parking lot, Adam waited by the minivan as he looked at something on his phone.

"Let's go," I told him.

"What?" He looked up. "He wasn't there?"

I wished my chin weren't trembling so hard, but I shrugged and said, "He was, alright."

"Then?"

I sighed and tugged at the passenger's door. "Let's just go."

I knew it was in his best interests that we didn't dally, because he was supposed to start his next shift at the hospital pretty soon. Still, he didn't open the car doors. I looked up to glare at him, but all Adam did was point somewhere behind me. I looked over my shoulder.

Sawyer.

He was leaning on his cane in the middle of the parking lot, still looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Then he saw Adam and said, "Can you give us a moment?"

"All the moments you need," my brother-in-law said, and he disappeared into the shop's reception.

I stayed looking at the closed door, because I didn't know what to do with myself. When I felt Sawyer closer, I told him, "Sorry about that. Please don't file a sexual harassment complaint-"

Whatever else I'd been about to say died down as one hand cupped the back of my head, pulling at my hair softly. And then his lips were on mine. I fell against the car door, which Sawyer took advantage of to press the length of his body against mine. I heard the clang of his cane against the pavement and I clutched at his shoulders to keep him firmly against me. He ran his tongue against the seam of my lips and I opened them in welcome. His right hand made a direct trip down my side until it found the bare skin of my thigh. His hand climbed higher, right there in the middle of the parking lot for anyone to see, but I didn't care. I wrapped my leg around his waist as he squeezed my butt.

A groan rumbled from my chest, which Sawyer used to deepen the kiss even more. With fumbling hands I found the opening of his overall and I broke away from the kiss long enough to tear it open fully, so I could sneak my hands under the fabric. I squeezed at his side, just where his tattoo of my sketch was. That tore a sound of pleasure from his throat, too. I leaned my head back against the car window when dizziness took over me. Sawyer released my lips to trail hot, open mouthed kisses down my neck and all the way to my cleavage. He rested his face there for as long as it took us to regain our breath.

I opened my eyes and although it was in the middle of a bright day, I saw stars.

"I'm sorry," he said with a rumbling laugh. "I think I left my brain under the Corvette."

Slowly he lifted his face. There was a certain red tinge across his cheeks and nose that twisted my heart into a knot. I touched his face with trembling hands.

"I didn't think I could ever have you this close again," I confessed.

Grey eyes widened.

Sawyer swallowed hard once. Twice.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked. "Is this really happening?"

I tried to smile. "How can I prove it?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Insult me? Say I'm beneath you. Because I was. I still am."

That robbed me of any breath.

"What are you doing, saying you want to give one of your prized paintings to me?" Sawyer frowned. "Or yourself?"

"Are you fucking kidding me with this?" I told him, grabbing his face so he wouldn't look away. The fact that I cursed froze him on the spot anyway. A fat tear rolled down my cheek and he followed its trail with his eyes. "Sawyer, you're the one who saw what was beyond my walls, the one who accepted me for what I was—flaws and all. you're the one who told me to get off my sorry ass and work for what I wanted. I'm telling you now," I said with a swallow. "No matter where life took me, you were always the one I wanted. The one I would always come back to. I've been working for it for the past couple of months, so I could come to you and hope that you would give me a chance."

I took a shaky breath and said, "You're not beneath me and I'm not above you. All along, you've been perfect for me. From the second you called me princess the first time and hopefully-" I paused, squeezing my lips for a second so I could swallow back a sob. "And hopefully, from now on, too."

Sawyer was like a statue, looking down at me as if he couldn't believe his eyes or ears.

"What about your boyfriend, Jean-"

I cringed as I said, "He was a poor attempt at substituting you."

That brought a twinkle to his eyes that I met with a question of my own. "And your pretty redhead?"

"Had a similar temper to your Venezuelan one, but nothing else of what makes you you." He leaned his forehead against mine and asked, "Does that make me a bad guy?"

"The worst," I said with a smile, lacing my arms around his neck. "But then again, I'm a bad girl for the same reason."

Sawyer snorted. "You're not a bad girl, Rory. You're my queen."

I squeaked as he picked me up by my butt, and before I could fall I wrapped my legs around his waist. Sawyer laughed and dove for another kiss. No more what ifs, no more hiding. So many years spent denying each other the intense feelings between us, finally over.

If I was his queen, so was he my king. Because all along he'd reigned over my heart.

The End

just so you know, after this they kept going... and going... 😂

and that's it, folks! the tale of a petty queen and her soft boy king has come to a close and you are not alone, i'm all up in my feelings too 😭

when i envisioned the HEA for these two, i knew it was going to come with a lot of hardship and with separation. we knew Sawyer's feelings for our Aurora were true, but she had to learn that her own also were. it took her a while to come around (as always), but boy i'm so happy they can finally begin their lives together.

i hope you've enjoyed reading this book, which shows us a kind of anti-heroine. i personally think the literary world needs more of those, because girls and women are vastly different and not all of us can be sweet and kind (speaking from experience, ahem).

finally, i wanted to take a moment to address the major underlying topic in this book and that is domestic abuse. it comes in many forms, not all of them physical, and it's extremely hard for the victims to trust others for help. Sawyer's defense mechanism of putting up a show for everybody and keeping what was going on a secret is sadly common. if you or anyone in your life suffer from abuse, know you are not alone. that you can in fact reach out to others, that there will be light at the end of the tunnel, that the cycle of abuse can be broken. and for those of you who have a loved one who has gone through this, please have patience with them, give them all the love and support you can. and have empathy for the survivors. it goes a long way.

the response to this book surpassed all of my modest expectations and i want to thank you all for that! especial thanks to those of you who made graphics for me out of the goodness of your hearts. i'm truly touched 🖤

as always, fun stats (for me) about MAKE A SCENE:

total amount of words: approx. 93k

time it took to write: four (very eventful) months

time it took to edit: too little as always, lol. i think i took a couple of weeks on this one

time it took to post: there was a pause in the middle for the reasons y'all know, but all in all this one took us five months of regular posting twice per week

at its best it reached the ranking: oh i don't know, i should remove this stat because i don't pay much attention to it. it did go up in reads wildly quick!

and don't forget that EDGE OF ROMANCE starts this december! same updating schedule you're used to. i hope you anticipate it a lot ✨