Page 81 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

I’ll bet she is, but I doubt she’s as revved up as me. There are no G-rated thoughts in my head. All I’m picturing are those swirling fingers pushing up my shirt, flicking the button on my jeans, dragging the zipper down . . .

I inhale deeply through my nostrils.

We chat and laugh more while I wash dishes and rescue my mind from a very pleasant gutter. Sadie and Max snack on the Cheez-Its. I sip my wine occasionally, enjoying relaxing with my family but still buzzing with anticipation. I’ve only kissed Sadie tonight, and my blood’s already boiling faster than my tomato soup.

I grab the soup, pour it over my casserole, then cover the dish and slide my work of art into the oven. Pleased with my efforts, I return to the counter and grab Max’s latest book.

Sadie’s phone rings near me. I catch the name Joseph before she snatches it up and bolts away.

“Hey,” she says into her phone, giving us her back. “Can we talk later?” Then, “Oh, sure. Just give me a sec.” She waves her cell at us with a sheepish shrug. “Work thing. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She slips inside her office down the hall and closes the door.

I stare at the barrier between us, feeling uneasy. I mean, it’s not odd to have so much weekend work. Smartphones have obliterated personal time, everyone constantly plugged in. I just don’t get why she couldn’t talk in here. Sadie doesn’t work in the criminal justice system or as a therapist or some kind of finance job that requires discretion. She sells artwork and networks with artists.

Pushing her odd behavior from my mind, I focus on Max and his new book. A quick read of the back cover has me as moved as when he called me Dad.

If We Were Us is another contemporary read exploring relationships and sexuality.

Not only did my I’m-your-father reveal not revert him to his quiet and withdrawn ways, but he’s openly sharing this book with me. Not afraid or timid. Just here you go. This is what’s on tap next. He’s either reading it for pure pleasure or to better understand himself. Regardless, I’m thankful these books are in the world. I’m thankful he doesn’t hesitate to share them with me.

I tap the cover. “Looks like another stellar choice. Can’t wait to dig in.”

“Cool. And about your tattoos.” He prattles on about some tweaks he plans to make to the nature scene—adding a mushroom from his mushroom sketches—then he sidelines to airplanes and air shows and something about an aileron roll he thinks is just the coolest. I have zero clue what he’s talking about, but I love his excitement.

A few minutes later, Sadie joins us, looking decidedly less enthused. Her face is paler, her lips pinched tight.

When Max takes a breath from his airplane monologue and says, “Is it okay if I sketch for a bit?” I’m actually relieved to get Sadie alone.

She smooths her hand down his back. “Of course. We’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

He grabs his book and vanishes back upstairs.

I don’t waste my time and crowd Sadie, pulling my stool next to hers. “You seem off after that call.”

She shrugs a shoulder, keeping her focus on her wineglass. “Work’s been stressful.”

“Stressful how? Has something changed with the Sarah Lim job?”

She fiddles with the neckline of her loose T-shirt, pulling it up her shoulder, then she fixes her hair, staying quiet.

“Is this the type of stressful where if you tell me about it, you’ll have to kill me?” I’m only half joking. She’s being unpleasantly evasive.

With a half-hearted laugh, she relaxes on her seat. “Sara’s been pushing about the job she offered, the aspects that are important to her. But it’s still not what I envisioned. It’s all getting more complicated than I expected.”

“Are the issues negotiable?”

“Some aspects are flexible, but some aren’t. There’s more curatorship involved than first discussed.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing. It actually sounds right up your alley. Unless you’re worried you won’t have as much time with Max?”

She scratches her nose. “Time with Max is a concern.”

“Good thing you have me and my family here to help then. You can even travel if needed. See the spaces in person.”

She nods but doesn’t say more. Maybe she’s nervous about the prospect. Concerned she doesn’t have enough experience to work for a big gallery the way she did fresh out of college. Which is nonsense. Sadie has always lived and breathed art.

Standing, I rotate her on her stool and move between her spread thighs. “You, Sadie Sprite Jones, may be small, but you’re mighty. Even if the specifics of the job are out of your comfort zone, I have no doubt you can rock it.”