Page 43 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

Pressure balloons in my chest, pushing at my ribs. Twisting me up inside. Not sure how this kid already has me worrying over him—this surge of protectiveness that has me ready to fight the world on his behalf—but it’s there. Undeniable and emotionally driven. Max is a piece of Sadie and me. He’s proof of how deeply we once loved each other, and I never want him to experience hate or hurt or ever dislike a part of himself.

So yeah. I’ll be devouring Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda in short order, and I’ll make damn sure I’m no longer careless with my words. First, I need to figure out if Sadie knows more about Max’s life than she’s letting on.

I hit speed dial on her number.

She picks up after one ring. “Des, hi.”

“Hey . . .” Sprite. I almost used her nickname. Our history rolled into one cute syllable. I swallow and try again. “Having a nice weekend?” Painful small talk for the win.

“Quiet but nice.”

I stretch out on the lawn chair, adjusting until the metal rim doesn’t dig into my thighs. “Is Max around?”

“He’s downstairs drawing with Joseph, but I can get him.”

“No, no. I actually wanted to talk to you.” Specifically without Max around, but not while Max is anywhere near Joseph. Sadie and I only scratched the surface of our are-you-single talk. The whole Joseph situation is still a blank spot. He obviously spends a lot of time with them. He could be into Sadie without her knowing. Or they could have a history together she didn’t mention, and single means different things to different people. Hooking up randomly with someone doesn’t classify as a relationship. Another topic I should probably address tonight. May as well start there.

I take a breath and say my favorite word. “Sadie.”

“Yeah?” Her voice is soft, tentative. Maybe she senses how big this call is, all the massive topics I need to address.

I settle deeper into my chair, inhale the scents of charcoal and grilled meat from a neighbor’s barbecue. Kids laugh in the distance. Happy families doing happy things. I grip the back of my neck. “You spend a lot of time with Joseph.”

“Oh. Yeah.” There’s a pause, the sound of a chair scraping, like she’s sitting down too. “I might not have mentioned it, but we work together.”

“Doing the online art business?”

“Mostly. My reach was small when I started, then I did this one-off trip to New York and met Joseph at a gallery opening.”

“You must have loved New York.” A city exploding with art and artists. A city I’d love to explore with Sadie.

“It was amazing and crazy busy, but I didn’t have a ton of time there. Joseph did, though. He travels a lot, networks with up-and-coming artists and at-risk kids in funded art programs. We’re building a new arm of the business,” she says, talking faster, livelier, “giving these young adults better visibility. An online venue to share and market their work. Shining a light on how they view the world, breaking down boundaries of sexuality and society’s expectations, with a lot of focus on the immigrant experience too. And those corporate businesses I mentioned are eager to develop art collections in their offices with a slant to these unique perspectives.”

“Wow.” I love the swagger in her voice, her excitement as she talks about this career she’s built. “You’re actually doing it. Living and breathing art.”

“I mean, sort of.”

“Quit being so modest. You’ve built a business from the ground up and are helping support artists. It’s what you always wanted.” Makes me feel slightly less ill that she had to give up the gallery job when I left.

Her heavy breath pushes through the line. “I only focus on the behind-the-scenes stuff. Joseph coordinates our efforts, meets the artists, does the in-person presentations to the offices. He travels and takes videos of the corporate spaces to show me. So, yeah, I actually help choose the art and manage the business end of things, but I’m never in the spaces.” Another weighted pause. “Sitting in my small office all day doesn’t feel particularly creative.”

Forget less ill. My gut does an unpleasant twist. Sadie’s business may be thriving, but I’m not sure she is. Being a single parent steals your options, narrows your focus. I mean, Sadie wouldn’t give up Max for anything in the world, but I hate that she’s had to abandon a portion of her dreams—working in a gallery space, interacting with patrons and artists, seeing artwork in the flesh. I also can’t even hate Joseph. He’s filling in where she can’t, being her legs on the ground.

I chew the inside of my cheek. “You mentioned something the other day about an exciting new opportunity. What’s that about?”

“I don’t want to jinx it.” But a happy buzz returns to her voice.

“Because it’s amazing?”

“Too good to be true, honestly. And I shouldn’t talk about it yet, but . . .”

“But?” I prod, loving her barely contained enthusiasm.

“It’s unreal. Sarah Lim is this billionaire hedge fund genius and major supporter of the arts. She’s finishing construction on what will be the largest modern art museum in the United States. Like, absolutely state of the art. The type of place that’ll draw millions of visitors annually, and I’m in the running to be part of the staff, along with Joseph. I’m not exactly sure of the position available, and it will be done remotely, but it’s the kind of work I dreamed about in college. Impacting so many people through art.”

“Sadie, that’s incredible.” I grin, so damn happy for her. “Of course she’ll hire you.”

“Like I said, I don’t want to get too excited. We’ve been working on it for a while, and there are no guarantees.”