Page 56 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

Mirielle—thanks for reminding me I’m not alone.

Your surly neighbor,

D_ S _ _ _ D

P.S. You better quit calling me Walter and Albert now.

I smirk at the hangman-style clue for my name, knowing she’ll get a kick out of it, then I fold the note and stuff it into the envelope with my latest bracelet.

A knock jolts me. Not for long. I march to my front door and yank it open. “I told you not to drive at this hour.”

E grins. “But I have telepathy.”

“Or we’re just a bunch of screwed-up guys who don’t sleep well and often think about the family.”

“Or that.” He shrugs, pushing past me. “Nice place.”

I grunt my thanks. “I wanted to have you and Delilah over to hang out, but at a reasonable hour. Why couldn’t this wait?”

He rubs nervously at his neck. “It just couldn’t.”

I stare at him, waiting for him to go on.

“I can’t stay. I have a busy morning with work, but I have this thing—something I’ve kept for a while. And ever since we found you, and you moved closer, I’ve been wanting to return it but wasn’t sure you were ready. Then you texted tonight, exactly when I was thinking about you, and I know you’ve been spending solid time with Max and Sadie, and I just . . .” He pulls something from his back pocket and holds out his hand. “This is yours.”

I blink at the small red box, and a wave of emotion pummels me.

The last time I saw a box like this was our first week of WITSEC. I was locked in a bathroom, crushing it in my hand, crying so hard I was heaving. Then I tossed the box in the trash and never looked back. Now it’s in my hand.

SEVENTEEN

Slowly, I open the velvet box, and there it is. The engagement ring I bought for Sadie. Simple and elegant with a round-cut diamond on a slim white-gold band. My chest pulls tighter. So damn tight as a million memories, good and bad, overload me. “Jesus, E.”

He shrugs. “Figured you’d want it one day.”

I don’t have words. None that are good enough for my brother, who fished this out of the trash and saved it for me.

He punches my shoulder lightly, his expression reflecting the choked-up feeling I’m fighting. “I hope you make good use of this.”

I nod, too emotional to speak or say goodbye as he leaves. I can’t quit staring at the ring or stop the memory that comes flooding back. That unforgettable night. The night I tucked this box in my pocket—my last night with Sadie before we were torn apart.

The two of us were walking through Windfall’s town square, the only people out on the quiet night. I’d just aced my first year of law school. Sadie was about to start that killer job at the Contemporary Art Museum in Raleigh, no longer working as an intern. We had our eyes on swank apartments to rent, where she’d live and I’d move after I finished law school. I was driven. Put together and ready to tackle the world, my hair short and styled, my square jaw clean shaven. I wore designer clothes to portray the image of the man I wanted to be.

Honestly, if you looked up a picture of success in the dictionary, my all-American face would’ve been splashed across the page. I’d always imagined Sadie next to me in that shot, the epitome of success. Marrying a smart, fun, gorgeous woman who didn’t let her volatile family steal her spark. I may have only finished my first year of law school. I couldn’t afford us a house or lavish wedding yet. I didn’t care. I was Desmond Bower, and I wanted to marry Sadie Jones.

Unfortunately, having cold feet is a thing. Personally, I prefer to call it Male Moron Syndrome.

Picking up on my uncharacteristic anxiety, Sadie rested her head on my shoulder as we walked. “You’re being weird tonight.”

“Weird?” My stilted laugh did me no favors.

“Just, different. Kind of . . . nervous?”

Unsure what was wrong with me, I tightened my hand around her slim waist, brushed my fingers over the soft fabric of her pretty dress. “Maybe you make me nervous, Sprite.”

She flicked my abs. “The only thing that makes you nervous is pizza.”

She had me there. Pizza downright terrified me. How could something so delicious be so vicious on my lactose-intolerant stomach? Compared to resisting the lure of pizza, proposing to Sadie should have been a cakewalk.