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“I’m trained to pick up speech patterns. In interrogations, it helps you identify whether someone is telling you the truth, or a story they’ve been fed and memorized,” Paul explained. “When I first read them, I could see there were two distinct patterns, but I didn’t know which one was hers. After talking to her a few times, I was able to sort out which one was hers.”
One of our conversations floated back to me as a pit opened up in my gut. “She mentioned her boss rewrites most of her work.”
“There you go,” Paul said matter-of-factly. “Those articles on Friday? Those were entirely in that other voice. Not Sadie’s.” He leaned back and spread his arms across the top of the couch. “Plus, there’s how she reacted when you confronted her.”
“What about it?” I asked, already dreading his answer.
“She was shocked.”
“Yeah. Because they got published earlier than she expected,” I argued. “She didn’t think she’d have to face me after writing all that shit. She figured she’d already be gone.”
“Nope.” He shook his head and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I watched the videos. She read those words for the first time when you handed her that phone.”
“How can you be sure?” Val voiced the same question that rattled around in my head.
“Because determining whether people are telling the truth in high-pressure situations was literally my job description for six years. They used to call me the human lie detector. Plus, no offense,” he turned to face me, “but your girl has no ability to keep her emotions off her face.”
Fuck me. He was right. Sadie’s face did proclaim whatever was going on in her brain, even when she didn’t speak the words out loud.
“Shit.” I dragged both hands through my hair. Was it possible Paul was right? But even if he was, what did it matter? “She was always going to leave.”
“Maybe,” Val said. “But not like that.” She gave me a sympathetic look. Normally that kind of look would annoy the shit out of me, but at the moment it seemed appropriate.
Had I really fucked up any chance we might have had by not hearing her out? She’d tried to tell me she didn’t write those articles when I confronted her, but I was too blinded by rage and hurt to listen.
“Did you guys talk at all about what you were going to do when her assignment was over?” Val asked.
My fist clenched on the armrest of my chair. “No.”
Val leaned over and rested her hand on top of my fist. “It’s not too late to try to work things out.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Call her? She’s long gone. Even if she will talk to me—and I wouldn’t blame her if she ignored me—she’s in New York. How the hell are we supposed to make that work?” I looked back and forth between Val and Paul.
“Don’t ask me.” Paul slumped against the couch. “Relationships aren’t exactly my strong suit.”
Val looked around at the boxes again. “I think the question is, how much change are you willing to endure?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you willing to go after her? Go big? Show her you were a dumbass, and things don’t have to end because she left Kelly Bay?”
“Go to New York? How would I even find her?”
“I bet Axel’s lawyer could get us her work address,” Paul said.
“Wait, you know Axel Everett? Personally?” I asked.
Paul pulled his phone out and tapped away. “We play cards once a month whenever he and Ronnie are in town.” He shrugged.
“Oh my god.” Valerie laughed. “Of course you’re on a nickname basis with Veronica Everett. No big deal.”
“They’re good people.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Let’s stay on task here. Val’s right, you need to go get Sadie. Apologize in person. Figure out how you guys are going to make this work.”
“I can’t ask her to quit her job and move from New York to fucking Michigan. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here, but come on.” I looked at them like they were crazy. “And why should she even trust me after the way I acted?”
“So you go to her, and you earn her trust,” Val said. “Move to New York if you have to. People move for love all the time. It’s not like you’ve been living your best life here.” She waved her arms around. “You’re rolling in a Scrooge-McDuck-sized pile of money that you’ve barely touched, you’ve got no responsibilities here, and the only family you’ve got—me—barely ever sees you as it is.”
“Harsh,” I muttered.
