Page 59 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

For a beat, time seems to still. There’s no law school or Joseph or challenging dad confessions on the horizon. There’s just us. Tender strokes of our hands and tiny revelations. When my nail drags rougher, she shivers. When her thumb brushes mine, I damn near black out.

“Sadie.” Sadie, Sadie, Sadie. Her name. Forever music on my tongue. “Just so you’re aware, not kissing you is a form of torture.”

Her eyelids slide closed, as though she’s lost in the moment, but a furrow creases her brow. “I have to agree, but this all kind of scares me.”

“Which part?” I ask, readying for bad news.

“The intensity of us, how much I think about you when you’re not around. We still don’t know how Max will react when he meets you or if the connection between us is the kind of chemistry that’ll last. I know I’m the one who asked you out last time, and that afternoon was fantastic, but I’m still scared to hurt Max. And if we don’t work out and I lose you again . . .” She breathes faster. “I’m not sure I can go through that a second time.”

“What we have is real, honey. It’s not fleeting chemistry.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

I sure as hell do, but she clearly doesn’t. A reality that breaks my barely mended heart. “So you want to hit pause on dating?”

She chews her lip. Glances at the closed front door. Is she thinking about Joseph? Wondering which man is best for her and her life? “I’m sorry, Des. But—”

“Daniel!” The back door thuds closed.

We jerk apart. Some of me just fell apart. Hearing Max call me Daniel here is uncomfortable, and I don’t know what Sadie was about to say. Starting with I’m sorry isn’t promising.

Unwilling to believe she’s giving up on us, I strut down the hall, meeting Max in the kitchen. “Max! How’s my favorite artist?”

“I’ve been drawing all week.” He clambers onto the island stool and spreads open his sketchbook, a different one than the book he shared with me on our hike. “At first, I was thinking nature stuff, since you do nature hikes. Like trees or flowers or butterflies. Then”—his dark eyes go wide and twinkly—“I thought since you’re, like, big and strong, you’d want something big and strong.” He flips the page and pushes the book toward me.

It’s filled with a number of drawings. Rockets. Two different airplanes. He even drew a helicopter. Kid really loves aviation.

I love that I’ve given him this project, the excitement in his voice and the sparkle in his eyes. “These are all so good I can’t choose. Final decision’s yours.”

“Really?”

“Really.” I flip the page back, still awed by his talent. Strong linework. Soft shading that brings the images to life. “I also dig the flowers and butterflies. Maybe choose two images. One from each page.”

“Really?” His jaw practically hits the counter.

I ruffle his hair. “Really.”

“What’s all this for?” Sadie rounds the counter and peers over Max’s shoulder. “Part of one of the hiking activities?”

Max beams. “I’m designing tattoos for Daniel.”

“Ha, ha.” She makes an exaggerated isn’t-our-son-the-funniest face at me. “What’s it actually for?”

“I’m designing him tattoos,” he repeats, then turns to me for confirmation. “Right?”

“Kid’s got skills. I decided I needed Windfall’s best designer on my next pieces.” Max and I share a conspiratorial smile.

The only thing Sadie shares with me is a death glare. “Max. Why don’t you take your stuff upstairs and get ready to go out? I need a word with . . . Daniel.”

I mouth at him, What did I do?

He giggles and mouths back, You’re in trouble, laughing under his breath as he heads upstairs.

“Desmond.” Sadie crosses her arms, chin lifted, lips pursed.

I know that clipped tone and that your-balls-are-mine stare. I hold up my hands in surrender. “Sadie, look.”

“Don’t Sadie, look me. You can’t make false promises to a kid. If you offer them something, they get excited. And this is Max. Drawing is his life. So when you tell him you were messing around, just bonding over art and ink, he’ll be crushed.”