Page 99 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

Then she pulls away. “You pushing for this means the world, but the decision’s done. I’m not taking the job, and that’s final.”

There’s no missing how she’s biting the inside of her cheek, trying not to cry. I debate suggesting I ditch Duke and reapply to a school in Arizona, but admissions are done for the year. Sadie would probably think this is my way of delaying, quitting. Giving up the way I have the past decade. She’d look at me with less love in her eyes.

She marches to her office, shutting herself inside without making her tea or giving me a second glance. An ache lances through my chest, harder this time. Breath-stealing pain. Like something bigger happened here. A fault line carved between us. Broken ground I won’t be able to bridge. Sadie’s strong and stubborn and fiercely devoted to our family. I love her for it, but that admission—how perfect this job is, that she’d have taken it if I hadn’t returned—how do we live with her letting that go?

I force a swallow. Blink at the home that had started to feel like ours.

Everything looks different.

I somehow get my three bracelets done, my fingers moving by rote, my heartbeat thick and sluggish. Max comes home, and I manage a smile, hugging him tighter than normal, trying to pretend my seams aren’t fraying. Sadie and I move around each other in the kitchen, cooking and cleaning, but we don’t brush against each other like usual, stealing small touches and tender looks. There’s distance between us. Awareness of each other’s stance on this huge decision.

We don’t talk while we get ready for bed. I watch her brush her teeth. Stand beside her, searching for words to mend our divide. All I manage is to graze my hand down her back and whisper, “We’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

She stiffens at my touch. “There’s nothing to figure out. I’m not taking the job, and you’re going to school.”

She leaves me in the bathroom alone.

I brace my hands on the sink counter and hang my head, force more air into my lungs. Six hours into this disagreement, and I can barely stand upright. I lean heavier onto my palms, stare at myself in the mirror: the scar on my neck, the unprofessional ink, my thick eyelashes, and the sharp cut of my jaw, so much like my father’s, who never put anyone before himself. Another reason why I need to change her mind.

I can’t be a selfish bastard like him.

I leave the bathroom, needing to hold Sadie, feel her in my arms, ask her again to reconsider. Drill it in to her that we’re still together. But she’s under the covers already, her eyes closed and bedside light switched off. Shutting me out.

My throat constricts so forcefully I can barely drag in a breath.

Wetness is pushing from her closed eyes, and her lips are pressed tight. Intense emotion that hints at my biggest fear: this is a no-win situation. If she keeps the job, she’ll end up resenting me for breaking us apart and hurting Max. If she gives up the gallery job, she’ll end up resenting me for missing this opportunity. A sacrifice that big will fester and infect. It’s already starting, and I’m not sure how to cauterize the growing wound.

I’m not sure how to make this right.

TWENTY-NINE

Today is off to a predictably horrible start. I barely slept last night. I spent a portion of my restlessness watching Sadie pretend to sleep. An effort she gave her all, but she can’t fool me. I’ve memorized the tiny whistle her nose makes when she’s fully passed out, the slow rise of her chest, how her lips part slightly and her body softens.

Last night she gripped her sheets in a tight fist, and there were no sweet whistles. The creases at the corners of her eyes were anything but soft and relaxed.

So I stewed. Wound up staring at the ceiling, despising my father all over again for stealing Max and Sadie from me. For putting this mess in motion so he could earn cash. I berated myself for not finishing law school during WITSEC like I should’ve. If I had that degree, I wouldn’t be attending Duke now, forcing Sadie to choose between her job and us.

Such an utter moron.

Now we’re nearing the meeting point for today’s hike, and Sadie and I have barely said a word on the drive. Mud churns under the car’s tires. Sadie’s leaning against the passenger door, staring out the window, giving off wafts of silent misery. Max is drawing in the back, doodling in his sketchbook. Every time I glance in the rearview mirror, his worried eyes dart between Sadie and me. As hard as I’ve tried to be positive this morning, there’s no hiding the heavy mood in the car. He’s a smart, intuitive kid. He knows something’s wrong.

“Mom,” he says sharply. “My cookies aren’t in my bag.”

Sadie mutters a quiet “Shit,” then faces him in the back. “Sorry, sweetie. I totally forgot.”

Because she was distracted by her sadness and our fight.

“I have extra granola bars in my bag,” I offer, trying to catch his eye in the rearview.

He mumbles, “Fine,” and continues drawing, his head hung lower.

My mind takes a deep dive into treacherous waters.

Yes, Max is resilient. Yes, he’ll have our support no matter where he is. But he’s been so happy in Windfall with his new friends and his extended family, with me in his life. Now there’s a hint of change—discord between Sadie and me—and he’s curling in on himself. Maybe Sadie’s right and moving him is a horrible idea. All this upheaval in a short time might sap his confidence in a damaging way. Which leads us back to Sadie’s upsetting solution of her giving up her job. The best thing for Max likely, not the best thing for Sadie.

By the time I park her Honda at the site of today’s final hike, I’ve clenched my jaw to the point of having a headache. Sadie abruptly gets out and waits for Max to join her, not sparing me a glance. Probably worried I’ll jump at the chance to push my opinion on her, convince her to take that job. I don’t even know what I want anymore. How to make her and Max happy.

I sit in the car and grip the wheel, trying to get ahold of my spiraling thoughts. Another sinkhole forms in my stomach, widening at an alarming rate. I grab the door handle to get out and get this day going, but my heart beats faster. Scary fast. Face-planting-in-the-mud fast.