Page 51 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

I lead us into the forest. An environment that’s starting to feel as grounding as Sadie. The leaves above cast shadowed shapes over the trail, the birds singing bright and clear.

I squeeze her hand. “Tell me more about the job.”

“Like I said, I don’t know specifics. She’s obviously hiring curators—my total dream job—but I don’t have enough experience for something that huge, and it wouldn’t even work. I think she wants us to develop the mentorship programs we pitched to her. Outreach for at-risk youths, giving them access to spaces and established artists. Something collaborative. Not just teaching these kids,” she says, her voice building in confidence, “but sharing ideas, learning from them too. The stuff we’ve seen, how emotional and raw their work is, shouldn’t be overlooked. The shared experiences can lift up the whole art community and make a difference in so many lives. If she goes for the project as we pitched it.”

As usual, Sadie’s compassion and ability to think in bold strokes blow me away. “I knew you’d do it.”

“What?”

“Change the world.”

“A little overdramatic, and it’s not happening yet.”

“It will.”

We walk on, chatting lightly, sometimes falling into an easy silence that settles my soul in a bone-deep way. Like we didn’t lose eleven years together. Like the gaping hole in my chest isn’t so wide.

I spot the tree I marked with a yellow ribbon last week and run my thumb over her hand. “We’re here. Just around this corner.”

When she sees where we are, she gasps. “Oh my God. It’s stunning.”

The small clearing is dappled in the partial sun, the area blanketed with white and yellow wildflowers. In the center is a willow oak tree, tall and leafy, its branches spread in invitation.

“Someone obviously cleared the area at some point,” I say, appreciating the serenity of the peaceful land. “There’s even the remnants of a stone house on the opposite side.”

Releasing my hand, she wanders ahead, letting the tall flowers tickle her fingers. “Could you imagine living here? It would be like living in a fairy tale.”

“Yeah.” I picture Max and Sadie and me playing games in the grass, and warmth floods my sternum. “I was looking for the perfect place to take you at some point, and the blog I read didn’t disappoint.”

“Are we having a picnic?” She spins around, walking backward, her eyes sparkling.

“Nope.” Unable to keep her in suspense, I unzip my bag and pull out one of the axes I bought last weekend. I’ve kept them in my car, hoping to have a day just like this. “You’re going to show me what a badass you are.”

Her mouth drops open. “You brought me here to throw axes?”

“There’s a dead tree on the other side of the clearing. Seemed like a good target, and you can’t beat this setting.”

She does a cute little jump and races through the wild grasses and flowers, finding the decaying tree easily. I follow in her path. Magnetized. My body drawn to her radiant light.

She circles the tree’s girth, letting her fingers drag along the bark. “This is the best surprise.”

“I’m full of them.”

“You are,” she says with a bit of wonder.

That magnet pulls harder, and I clear my throat. “Sadie Sprite Jones, it’s time to show me what you’ve got.”

She joins me and examines the two axes I bought. She chooses the one she likes best, and when she steps back, I swear she looks a couple of inches taller. “Have you thrown an axe before?”

“Nope. I was hoping for a lesson, seeing as we’re both on the yellow team.” I gesture to our matching Littlewing shirts.

“Are we, though?” She smirks at the cotton suctioned to my chest. “I feel like I’m on the cute team and you’re on the redneck meathead team.”

I toss my head back, laughing from my gut. “I will burn this shirt one day.”

She grins. “Lennon did shrink it, by the way.”

I jerk my head up. “Are you shitting me?”