Page 94 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

I’m so excited, except for the fine print. “When school starts, I’ll stay at my apartment in Durham Tuesdays through Thursdays.” The less exciting part. “Come back here Fridays to Mondays to be with you. Studying will be intense, but this changes everything. We’ll get as much time together as possible.”

“You’re on your way, baby.” She presses her lips together, like she’s fighting another wave of tears. “Duke or die.”

It’s only Sadie and Max or die now, but I don’t correct her.

We rush to get dressed and cleaned up, stealing a few more kisses along the way, then Sadie swats my jeans-clad ass. “I need to make a work call. Be down in a few.”

I head for the door but decide I need another kiss before I go, because I’m a Sadie-obsessed motherfucker. When I turn, her face is resolute, like she’s readying for a tough call.

“Is this about the gallery job?”

She pauses. The strong lines of her cheekbones sharpen, then she sags. “It fell through in the end, and I need to tell Joseph. I’ve been putting it off.”

My stomach twists. “Sarah wouldn’t adjust the job the way you wanted?”

She runs her thumb over her phone and bounces her heel. “We weren’t on the same page, and she decided to hire someone else. Which is fine. She’s demanding and works crazy hours. It was turning into a headache.” She flicks her hand, as though the matter is done.

Unwilling to let her brush off this setback, I crouch in front of her and grip her calves. “It’s okay to be upset. You were excited about it. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

More than sorry. I thought that job was her chance to fulfill her dreams. Reclaim an aspect of her life she lost because of me.

She strokes her thumb over my cheek. “I’m not sorry. If I got that job, we wouldn’t have as much time for us.”

As much as I love our time together, I’d happily swap a portion of it for Sadie to have a fulfilling career. “Something else will come up. Your eye for talent is a commodity.”

She shrugs, as though unaffected, but I know Sadie. The pinch of her brow, her fidgetiness and eye contact avoidance—she’s disappointed. I give her calves a reassuring squeeze and plant a soft kiss on her shoulder, then leave her alone to call Joseph.

The second I’m downstairs, my frustration melts into contented warmth. Max is at the dining table with E, the two of them poring over one of Max’s sketchbooks. I’m here so often these days, Max doesn’t question what Sadie and I were doing upstairs. He just waves distractedly, consumed by his art. And I need a minute. A breath to let my good fortune sink in.

From this day forward, there will be no more pretending. I’ll be living in this house, part of Max’s daily life, when I’m not at Duke. I’ll have Sadie at night and time with my family. I’ll actually miss leading hikes, and law will be an uphill battle, but I never imagined a life as fulfilling as this.

Joining them, I cup the back of Max’s neck and kiss his head. “I assume you’re early because Uncle E’s incredibly boring, and you couldn’t wait to shake him.”

E taps his fingers on the table, unamused. “Your dad can’t fold paper without cutting himself, so I’d suggest not taking his advice. Ever.”

Last time we saw E and Delilah, we joked about Mom’s horrible creative genes, and I made the mistake of mentioning I shared her awful crafting DNA. Now E’s relentless.

Max does that belly giggle I love. “I forgot this sketchbook here. Uncle E’s helping me with my graphic novel layout.”

“Don’t rely on him too much,” I say. “His novels are color by number.”

E purses his lips. “This from a guy who drank a bottle of hot sauce because Lennon dared him.”

“And your point is?”

“You have bad judgment and can’t be trusted.”

Max snorts at our friendly sparring.

“What’s so funny?” Sadie comes into the kitchen, drops her cell on the counter, and grabs a bowl of grapes from the fridge.

“E’s attempting to never get invited here again.” I scan her for signs of distress, but she’s stoic, her chin lifted and shoulders squared.

She puts the bowl of grapes on the table and rubs Max’s back. “You’re working on the giant eagle comic?”

“It’s a condor, Mom. A vulture,” he adds with a dose of get-with-it exasperation. I think he’s been spending too much time with Olivia, but I love that he’s developing a drawing from our first hike. My talented kid took his initial sketch—the angry boy flying away from the world—and is turning it into a kickass comic, thanks to my insanely talented brother.

Sadie gets in Max’s face and plants a loud kiss on his cheek. “I love the condor, and I love you, more than anything in the world.” Her voice shakes slightly.