Page 86 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

Her dancing eyes are all trouble. “I wonder if that was a record of some sort.”

“Whatever. Take your shots. I got no shame here.” I’m lucky that blow job lasted as long as it did. I smooth my hand down her back. “Do you still want to own a pigmy goat?”

She laughs quietly. “That’s an abrupt question.”

“There’s still so much I don’t know about you.”

She presses two soft kisses to my pec. “No to the goat. Can you imagine the mess?”

“And the smell.” I shudder. “So what does adult Sadie wish for? Something wild and frivolous just for you.”

“Does wishing for an hour with nothing to do count as wild and frivolous?”

“Nah.” I tickle her side. “You can do better than that.”

She hmmms and buries her head against me, then she perks up on her elbow. “Paris.”

I grin. “Paris?”

“The Louvre. Spend a whole day with nothing to do but look at art. Or, oh—the Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac. It specializes in international contemporary art. Warhol. Katz. Sylvie Fleury and Tony Cragg. Four floors of mind-blowing work. God.” She slumps into me with a happy sigh. “When I was younger, I wanted things. Now I want experiences. What about you?” She noses my neck. “What’s your frivolous, selfish wish?”

“An experience for sure. Ten years ago I would’ve said a Porsche or a Rolex. But now . . .” I twirl her hair around my finger, try to see beyond wanting time with Sadie and Max. “Climb a mountain. Something big and challenging. Push myself to the limits.” Feel the bite of physical accomplishment, the freedom of nature on a grander scale. “But it would be even better with you and Max at my side.”

She tucks in closer to me, draws random shapes on my ribs, something she used to do when we were young and in love. “The night you took me on that date—to the food fair.”

When she doesn’t go on, I prod with a quiet “Yeah?”

She sinks heavier against me. “I thought it might be closure. That we were running on memories and history. One perfect afternoon in that clearing, throwing axes and kissing like we had no worries, then the shine would wear off. We’d realize what we had was in the past. That too much had happened to move forward together as a couple.”

Her unpleasant admission tangles with that call I overheard outside the diner at our first reunion.

Won’t like who he is now.

Won’t be good for Max.

Won’t recognize myself around him.

Not gonna lie. Remembering that gutting moment and hearing her recent hesitancy stings. I’ve got Duke on the horizon, though. Now more than ever, I need to prove to Sadie she made the right choice letting me in. “I know I’m not the man you thought I’d be, but I’m getting there. Once school starts, I’ll be on my way to a great job. Security for you and Max.”

“Des, you don’t have to convince me.” She lifts her face, intensity in the depths of her eyes. “I’m thrilled for you—that you’re going to Duke, reclaiming the future your father stole. You deserve your fresh start. My worries were more abstract.”

“Abstract how?”

“Just.” She nestles back into my chest. “Pulling myself together these past years has taken so much work, and I’m proud of who I am. Proud of what I’ve accomplished. But it’s been so easy to get caught up in these moments, in you, and I think I’ve been scared to lose myself in you too. Lose some of my independence, having to share the decision-making and this little world I’ve created with Max.”

“You had a long-term boyfriend, though. Didn’t he become part of your lives?” The last thing I want to think about right now is Sadie with another man, but there’s no denying the time we’ve spent apart. The experiences we’ve had, good and bad. I want to know all of hers, no matter how unpleasant.

She slips her leg between mine. “Trevor met Max and came over for dinner occasionally, but our lives were still separate. Not fully enmeshed. It’s part of why we didn’t work out. I couldn’t picture him as more.”

“And me? Do you picture me as more?” I hold my breath, terrified having sex wasn’t as life altering for her as it was for me. She didn’t say she loved me back. This could just be attraction for her—a mother needing to feel like a woman, as she once admitted.

She shifts off of me, lining us up so we’re sharing the pillow, facing each other. “You’re more than more, Des. If I picture myself touring Paris, I picture that fantasy with you. That’s why this has been so scary. Dating you, wishing for a future together, means opening myself up to possibly being hurt again. To Max being hurt if we don’t work out. And I think I was worried about sharing him with you.” When I frown, she says, “Not in a bad way. I knew he’d love you. I think I was jealous. Afraid of the time I’d lose with him. That he’d maybe like you more than me.”

“That’s not possible, honey. You two have a bond I’ll never share. Ten years without me.”

“And you’re the drama king who makes everyone laugh. But I realized something else tonight.”

I tug on her hip, bringing us closer. “That everything’s more fun when I’m around?”