Page 16 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

Two steps toward her, I realize she’s on the phone. When I’m a few feet away, I hear her say, “What if this is a bad idea?”

My muscles fuse. I suddenly regret not hiding.

“No. Not like that,” she goes on. “Just . . . E keeps being vague, not telling me much about Des except that he’s been in rough shape.” A pause. “Maybe. Things are just so fragile with Max. And I’m nervous Des has changed so much I won’t recognize him, or that I won’t like who he is now. Or he won’t be good for Max. Or maybe I won’t recognize myself around him. I’ve worked so hard to rebuild my life, and everything with Des was always so intense. Amazing and perfect, but I’m not sure I can be strong around him.” She slumps forward, seems to rub her eyes. “Or I’m overthinking everything.”

I have her beat on overthinking, and aside from amazing and perfect, every word she uttered was a shot to my chest.

Won’t like who he is now.

Won’t be good for Max.

Won’t recognize myself around him.

An irrational fear of losing her all over again roars to life, but there’s no point dwelling on my tangled emotions. She’s not mine to lose.

She’s making soft sounds of agreement, acknowledging whatever it is the person on the phone’s saying.

I clear my raw throat and say, “Sadie.”

She swivels and jerks. Goes completely still, then mutters something into her phone. She tries to put her cell away, but there’s no missing the way she fumbles getting her purse open. I shift on my feet, unsure what to do, hating how jittery she is.

She breathes harder and presses one hand over her mouth, as though she’s struggling not to cry. And I can’t take it. I step toward her and . . . nothing. I can’t do a damn thing. Hug her. Console her. I lost that right eleven years ago.

“Sadie, honey. Please don’t cry.”

She doesn’t remove her hand from covering her mouth. “Des.”

Her glassy eyes move over me, from the messy bun on my head, to the jaw she used to call my “superhero jaw,” to the tattoo on my neck, all the way down to my scuffed boots and back up again. Slowly, she uncovers her mouth and reaches toward me.

When her fingers graze my bearded chin, I flinch. Nearly fall to my goddamn knees. I close my eyes instead. Can’t handle looking at her while she traces the edge of my jaw, the line of my neck, over the scarred side.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she whispers.

Her hand leaves my face, and I almost grab her wrist to put her fingers back, tuck my arm around her waist and pull her against me. Bury my face in her hair and weep.

But.

Won’t like who he is now.

Won’t be good for Max.

Won’t recognize myself around him.

I shove my hands in my pockets. “Yeah, uh. It’s me.” Except ineloquent and desperately needy. “We should go inside. Sit down for a chat. Which is actually a serious talk, not a chat. About us. I mean, about our son, since he’s both of ours.”

Jesus Christ. I’ve swapped my former cockiness for a raging case of Kill Me Now.

She moves toward the door, then glances back like I might have vanished in the span of that nanosecond. Not surprising, considering our history. She gives her head a little shake and leads us inside.

Like when I was hanging up flyers, the few patrons in the diner scrutinize us. We’re strangers to town, but we’re also an odd pair. Sadie’s a gorgeous woman, put together in slim blue jeans and a pretty pink tank top. I’m muscled and intimidating, with a decade’s worth of resentment on my weathered face. My neck bristles, the area with the ink feeling particularly prickly.

When we’re finally seated across from each other in a red vinyl booth, she doesn’t glance at her menu. I have no clue what to do with my hands or legs or general body.

Her huge Disney-princess eyes finally lock on me. “This feels like a dream.”

More like one of my heart-wrenching fantasies. “Seeing you is beyond amazing, but yeah. Kind of an out-of-body thing.” I spin my bundled fork-and-knife set in restless circles. Our eyes meet briefly, then dart away. “Guess it’s hard to catch up on eleven years.”

She laughs. “Cue cards would be helpful.”