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“You keep arguingwith me.”
I smiled sarcastically. “I don’t know, Sadie. You seem to like it, but I won’t assume because gods forbid I try to do that with you. So, you tell me. Do you like arguing?”
“Ihatearguing.” She stomped to the door. “And I hate it when people try to tell me what to do.” She whipped open the door. “And I hate the way you leave your pile of messages on my side of the desk when it should stay clear!”
She left after that. Shit, I was glad when she did because the heat was cooking my brain into a stew. But then the emptiness of her absence hit next, and I longed for the sweltering hot words she threw at me with reckless abandon like an untrained chef tossing spices into a soup.
Why was she like this? Why did she do this to me?
Why did it make me want to chase after her?
Sadie truly was the insufferable type, but I knew it was from something very specific. She was hiding something. I was sure of it now. Her defenses were getting weaker by the day, by the argument, and I knew I would discover it soon.
Though I wasn’t sure how much we would survive when I finally did. The way she ran off now was too comfortable. It was like she was going to keep doing it until it was finalized. I didn’t want to think about that, but I didn’t want to keep up the debate. Arguing that much was exhausting. Didn’t she get tired of it?
To fight like that was a fool’s errand. No wonder the girl didn’t have many relationships. I knew my limits, and fighting was a big one. Any time a girlfriend in the past had gotten to be too critical, I dropped her. I should have been doing the same in this situation, but she was already living with me. She was in my house. She was on my payroll.
What would happen when it all came crashing down?
I tossed my pencil across the room. Well, that was another thing I hadn’t completely thought through, had I? The agreement covered most of the basics. I’d told her I wouldn’t harbor any hard feelings if she walked away. She was free to leave the relationship or the job—or both—without repercussion.
But what if she did do that?
Anxiety sent me right back to my stool. I grabbed a new pencil, sharpened it, and threw myself into my drawings, ignoring the nagging feeling that Sadie was on the verge of leaving me. I should have run after her, but it didn’t seem worth chasing. I was tired of trying to keep her around. I was tired of proving myself.
It felt easier to give up.
***
Sunlight beat my skull as I walked back to the house. Sadie hadn’t returned from her break. After sweeping the building thoroughly and being careful on the second floor, I figured she’d run home and locked herself in her apartment. The door didn’t give any resistance, so I assumed she hadn’t tried blocking me out. She could have just been in her room.
“Sadie?”
No response. Sleep could have taken her. After all that fighting, who could blame her?
“Sadie, it’s me.”
I hadn’t the faintest clue why I thought it important to state that it wasmetalking. It wasn’t like anybody else dropped by the house with a key. And the ones who did have a key knew better than to walk inside without knocking.
The floorboards under my feet wheezed. Other than the picky board near the door, the rest of the walk was quiet. I went up the miniature hallway and paused at the bedroom door, pressing my ear to the wood. I usually kept such good tabs on her. The fact that I wasn’t sure if she was asleep or awake made me feel strange.
Actually, the whole thing felt dreadful. The pictures on the walls were undisturbed and tidy, recently dusted, staring at me with hollow judgement. A clock ticked somewhere in the house. Water rushed through a pipe—probably the ice maker again.
I knocked on the door. “Sadie?”
Vanilla and honey tinted the air. It was just muted enough to make me think twice about opening the door. But Sadie had run off in the middle of the workday. If she was sick, I needed to know. If she was still angry, well, we would cross that bridge when we got to it.
Hopefully that was soon. I didn’t like playing silent games like this.
“Sadie, come on…”
I twisted the knob and pushed open the door.
An empty bed sat in the middle of the room. Drawers were propped open and emptied. The closet door stood ajar, revealing what hangers remained inside. Figurines that should have been seated on the dresser were also gone, a ring in the dust the only trace of them having ever been there.
No, this couldn’t be happening.
This couldn’t bereal.
