Page 68 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

It sure does, because my son’s a budding Michelangelo. He totally captured the lacy scales curving up the sides. “Maybe I should get that inked?”

“No way. I have plans.” He runs off to join the others: the Sherlock Holmes Fungus Gang, scouring this new section of woods.

I wasn’t sure what to expect with him today. We’ve talked on the phone plenty since my big reveal, and he likes his counselor, Samantha, but this is our first face-to-face time since I bawled into his neck on Monday. He hasn’t called me Dad or, as far as I can tell, told anyone who I am, but he seeks me out often, shows me his sketches, asking which mushrooms are poisonous and which aren’t. Even better, he’s been laughing with his friends.

Learning who I am hasn’t reverted him to his introverted ways. He hasn’t seemed awkward or nervous. Unlike his mother, who’s resumed her stiffness around me.

I narrow my eyes at Sadie’s back, not making any sudden moves. She’s done an excellent job of avoiding me today. Every time I walked toward her, she bolted off, saying things like, “Oh, Zoey! Careful near those trees,” and “Olivia! Let me help you draw that contour,” and “Carter, drop that right now!”

Granted, Carter dared Jun to eat a bright-orange Amanita flavoconia, and Sadie intervened before Jun landed in the hospital and Lennon murdered me for turning his business into manslaughter central, but I know what she’s doing. She’s avoiding me and her feelings, like during parts of last night’s date. The question is why?

I walk as carefully as possible toward her, frowning at more annoying litter on the ground. Making a mental note to grab it before we leave, I forge on. Sadie’s got her nose in my handout, which she’s read sixty-seven times today.

Avoidance Queen.

When I’m close enough that she can’t evade me, I say, “Have you memorized that yet?”

She jumps and squeaks. “You scared me.”

Her avoidance is scaring me. “Sadie Jones, do I make you nervous?”

She waves her paper, laughing haltingly, like I made some kind of hilarious joke. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is you dodging me. Do I smell?” I make a show of sniffing my armpit.

There’s the eye roll I missed from the kids. “You smell fine.”

“I’m going for better than fine.” I dig cologne. Smells can be sensual and intoxicating. Case in point, last night, Sadie took that extralong inhale at my neck. Eternity was my cologne of choice back in the day, classic and bold and manly. Opting for something fresher and lighter, I bought Cool Water recently and thought it was doing the trick. “So you don’t like my cologne.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You said I smell fine. Fine’s not good.”

She drops her head back, mumbles at the sky, then skewers me with those ethereal eyes. “You look too good and smell too good and being around you is . . . difficult. I’m not ready for Max to know we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing.”

“We’re on the same page with Max, honey.” And I don’t think that’s the reason she’s acting cagey. I think she’s worried I won’t turn my life around the way I’ve promised I would. Needing to ease her mind, I walk forward until her back’s pressed against a tree. “I got textbooks for school. Can’t wait to crack them open.”

The cracking open part is a lie, but the way Sadie brightens is worth it. “I’m so excited for you.”

“Since I’ll be spending more time prepping, I don’t want to waste these minutes together. And we’re being discreet. We’re just two adults talking close so the kiddos don’t overhear us. Isn’t that what normal adults do around children?”

She tongues the corner of her lips, slaying me. “The way you’re looking at me isn’t normal.”

She’s probably right. All I feel around her is ravenous. “Speaking of our continued dating, have you organized a sitter for a night next week?”

“Des.”

“Sprite.”

“Max can’t know,” she says again, but her gaze darts to my mouth. Something else she’s done a few times today, along with launching a number of lingering glances my way, hopefully reliving that hot kiss at her car.

Since I can’t outright touch her in our present circumstance, I scratch my hair and flex my biceps, remembering her throaty You really have been working out a lot. Can’t blame a guy for showcasing his strengths. “Max doesn’t know, honey. And I can’t control how I look at you. I want to see you again. Alone. I thought you wanted that too?”

She breathes harder, looks about to speak.

Her damn phone rings.

She fumbles with her backpack, digs out her cell, then frowns at the screen before answering. “Chelsea, hi.”