by Brianna Cash
The corners of my mouth curl into a grin when I see the finger mark in the smooth surface. She might not have eaten the cake, but she couldn’t resist trying my icing.
“I was in that car accident—”
“With Alena?”
She glares at me for interrupting her. “Yes, with Alena. She wanted to drive my new car. It was totaled in the crash, and since long term parking cost more than my car payment every month, I didn’t get another.”
“What were you really doing in the closet with those guys at the club?”
“Come on!” She huffs at me before licking her finger, where there was a touch of icing on the tip. “Why’re you asking me so many questions? You aren’t answering any of mine!”
“Two more. Then I’ll answer whatever you want. Promise.”
“Does this count as one of the two?”
“Yes.”
Her nostrils flare as her teeth grind together. “Fine.”
She carefully delivers one piece to the waiting plate, and then sets the server in the empty space she just created, leaving me to get my own as she pulls out a chair and sits down.
“I pulled those guys into a maintenance room—you’re the only guy I have recent history with regarding closets. Anyway, I was just talking to them. Believe me, they were as disappointed with that as you are.”
“I’m not disappointed, Sadie.”
“Whatever. What’s your last question?”
Plating a piece of her cake for myself, I sit beside her, wondering how I should word this. I told her a million times I wasn’t just a number, but that’s exactly what I’m asking her for right now. “What was my score in your little black book?”
She holds my gaze for too long, her expression neutral, her fingers busy on the hem of her sweatshirt. I’m ready to admit defeat when she answers in a quiet voice, her eyes still locked on mine like it’s some sort of competition. “I didn’t put you in my book.”
Just as I figured…
“Why not?”
“You’re out of available questions.”
I shake my head, biting back a grin. Stubborn describes her perfectly. I’m surprised she answered any of my questions, but that last one is the most important, and she now has me right where she wants me.
“Why are we eating cake?” She motions for me to reach behind my chair and grab silverware off the counter. I take the distraction and try to come up with an answer that’s simple. True, but simple.
“It’s a bribe. Or a peace-offering. However you want to look at it.”
“If it’s a bribe, what do you want from me?”
I point to her plate with my fork, wanting to sweeten her up a little. “Try some? You’re supposed to go first.”
“Why, did you poison it?”
In the last three weeks, I forgot how exasperating she can be.
Her response reinforces my theory, though, and I try to keep my own expression neutral instead of smiling. “No. Because I made it for you. You know that.”
“And you know we’re supposed to eat it together.”
That smile breaks free. “Does that mean we can eat cake every day and get fat and happy?”
She shrugs, doing her best to look nonchalant. She doesn’t quite pull it off, though. There’s tension around her eyes she can’t hide from me. “Depends on your answers.”
That’s what I want, more than anything. And she basically told me she wants it, too. “I want you to forgive me.”
There it is, the softening around her eyes that tells me that was the right answer. I might only be starting the test, but I aced the first question.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your sister before the wedding?”
I still don’t want to have this conversation.
She made herself vulnerable for me. She told me things about her life and her past that she wasn’t proud of. And after I went back and reread all our emails and text messages this past weekend, I realized something. Other than that one assignment about broken rules, I really didn’t do that for her.
And my list of broken rules is nothing compared to the things she’s told me.
I sigh and meet her eyes. “I should have. I didn’t, because it’s embarrassing.”
“Why?” Her head tilts to the side. “It’s her problem, not yours.”
“Isn’t it my problem? Her addiction has affected my entire family, every day of my adult life, and my entire future.”
“How?”
Sliding the cake out of the way, I rest my elbows on the table, leaning into my hands and trying to figure out where to start. Lizzy? My plans for the future that got put on the backburner? How our parents changed when we figured out how bad my big sister’s little drug habit was?
“The first time Chris went to rehab, my parents used her college fund to pay for it. They figured that would be her punishment. She wasn’t an addict in their minds. She got a little carried away but everything would go back to normal as soon as she wrapped up her twelve steps.”
Sadie lets out a heavy breath, pulling her finger through the icing on her slice and sliding the tip past her lips. Her eyes close, showing me she’s enjoying the flavor but refusing to acknowledge it. Instead, she draws us back to the conversation. “How long was she clean?”
“We think a little over a year. After the second time, though, she was only clean for three months. That was when my parents used my college fund to put her through rehab.”
“And after that? After she stole your future? How long did she stay sober then?”
“We don’t really know,” I confess. “She disappeared. She only came back because she didn’t know what to do with her baby. She was going to have an abortion but kept ‘losing the money.’ I think she came home to steal the cash, but she was too far along at that point. My parents put her in rehab again but made her give them custody of Lizzy.”
“Do you know who the father is?”
“Yeah.” I laugh without a trace of humor. “Her dealer. She couldn’t pay, so he used her for a while, then threw her out with the trash. She was living on the streets for months before she came back.”
“Oh my God.” She winces, the space between her eyebrows disappearing. “Was Lizzy ok when she was born?”
I shake my head, hating this conversation more with every second. “She had a lot of issues at first. That’s why my parents made Chris give up her rights. She didn’t have a job or any kind of insurance. The doctors said the baby would have to stay in the hospital for a while, need a lot of care. If my parents hadn’t gotten her...”
“She’s lucky.” Sadie slides her hand over mine, squeezing my fingers tightly. “She’s so lucky to have you and your parents. She’s lucky to be so loved when she was conceived because of greed, drugs, and violence.” She sits back in her chair, her eyes wide as she searches the ceiling for answers. Is she praying? In the beginning of our class, she made fun of me for only being as religious as I have to be. Is she having a silent conversation with God right now? “Is Christine in rehab?”
“Yeah. My parents swear this time it’s going to work.”
“And you think…?”
“I think my sister is an addict. I think she’ll always be an addict and she’ll kill herself one day because of it. The only person that’ll be surprised is my mother, who has eternal hope in her only daughter.”
Her eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry you have to go through that.”
I thread my fingers through hers, my heart nearly bursting as she lets me strengthen our physical connection. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”
“I’m not. It’s part of who you are. I only wish I’d known sooner. Then I wouldn’t have to be sorry about what I thought. I know you’re not that kind of guy. I just… I never remembered anything specific about my parents before. It messed me up for a few hours, focusing on memories I didn’t realize I had. I talked with my mom.” She sighs, shaking her head. “My dad didn’t beat her. I always thought that, but Mom swears he didn’t
. Mom says she hit him.”
“Really?”
“I know.” Sadie agrees with wide eyes. “I’m meeting my dad next week for the first time in over fifteen years, and I don’t know how I feel about any of it. How do I forgive my dad for what I thought he did? And how am I not angry with my mom after what she admits she did? None of it makes sense.” Her fingers slide away from mine and she sits back in her chair, distancing herself from me. “Not with them, and not with me and you, either.”
I lean forward, wanting to lose that distance, but also needing to get everything out in the open, right now. So, we can have a future. “We can make sense, Sadie. We just need to figure it out. What other questions do you have for me?”
“When did you know it was me?”
My lips twist into a smile. “At the beach that first night. When you gave me my first perfect ten.”
“Oh my God.” Her jaw drops. “You knew almost the whole time! Is that why you were so weird that night?”
I nod. “It freaked me out at first, thinking you were the girl from my class. I stayed up almost the whole night, reading through our emails and texts, trying to find proof, one way or the other.”
“You knew before we had sex!”
“I was pretty sure, yeah,” I confess, watching her set her jaw in defiance.
“You should’ve told me! I felt like I was cheating on you! And I was so jealous of your other girl!”
“I wanted to tell you, but you kept saying it was too soon, so I tried to reassure you without being too obvious about it. And you were jealous of yourself, so…”
“I was your girl, ya know?” She shrugs, a small, sad smile covering her mouth. “I was all in with you, especially once I figured out who you were. You made me believe in magic.”
“Magic is code.” My voice is a whisper. I can’t believe she admitted it. Or that I may have messed it up before I got to truly enjoy it.
“Magic is code.” She sighs. It’s not a happy sigh. “Let’s eat this cake, huh? What do you say?”
She should be happy. Why isn’t she happy?
She finally believes in magic, but I hurt her, and didn’t trust us. Does that make her not want magic with me?
Chapter 28
Sadie
I appreciate everything he said. It couldn’t have been easy for him, admitting that stuff, but he hasn’t said anything close to the one thing I really want to hear. So, I slide some of this decadent looking cake onto my fork and wait for him do the same.
It's amazing. Like Owen somehow got ahold of heavenly sprinkles and added them to the batter, because something about this cake is truly…magical, for lack of a better word. Like angels blessed it and blew in a dose of happiness and joy and bubbling laughter.
But no matter how good it is, I’m not bubbling with laughter.
I’m not even angry anymore. After hearing everything he should’ve told me before the wedding, I’m now just drained.
And defeated.
Halfway through his piece, Owen sets his fork down, his eyes clashing with mine as he pleads with me. “What do you want to hear, Sadie? Tell me what to say, and I’ll say it.”
But if he doesn’t feel it, I don’t want to hear it. And if he does feel it, he should’ve said so when I admitted I believed in magic.
Instead, I give him a small smile. “This cake is really good, Owen. A perfect ten.”
He doesn’t appreciate my lame attempt at a joke. After sighing, he finishes his piece, watching me sadly enjoy the last few bites of mine. “Where does this leave us? I want us to be good. I want to be with you, I want to date you.”
“I don’t know, Owen…”
If he doesn’t feel the same way I do, what’s the point? It’ll only delay the inevitable. He’s the one who was pushing so hard for me to believe in magic. I told him I did. What more does he need to hear to tell me how he feels?
Which means he must not feel the same way.
“Why don’t you know?”
I look around the room with wide eyes, searching for an explanation that isn’t me begging him to tell me he loves me. I’m not that kind of girl.
“A lot has happened. I mean, we were good, but for what, a week? Then things got in the way, big things, not little things that we can easily forget. Maybe the universe is telling us to move on, that this isn’t worth it.”
“I don’t believe that. I think the universe is testing us, wanting to see if we’re smart enough, or determined enough, to hold onto what we found.”
“What did we find, Owen? Great sex? That’s not worth the heartache I’ve been through the last three weeks.”
Something flashes in his eyes, something defiant and stubborn. It’s the same something that flashed in his eyes in the shack before he finally gave in and had sex with me that first time. He’s drawn to this challenge. To proving me wrong.
Heaven help me, I want him to prove me wrong. From my side, we found so much more than great sex. I just need to know he feels it, too.
“Why didn’t you put me in your little black book, Sadie?”
“I didn’t have time.” That’s not anywhere close to the truth, but we’re not at a place where I can give him an honest answer to that question.
“You haven’t found time to put me on your spreadsheet in the last three weeks?”
Why is he pushing this so hard? Can’t he just be happy I stopped thinking with my head? “I’ve been busy.”
“With what, Sadie? Did you go back to Jamison?” He finds the answer in my annoyed expression without me uttering a sound. “You couldn’t, because what we had was more. Going back to that seems empty after what we shared, doesn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I insist, unwilling to hurt him that way, by lying and telling him I went out and fucked some other guy for the fun of it. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt that way but that doesn’t mean I want him asking me these questions, either. And having him here when he doesn’t love me back is pure torture. “You should go, Owen.”
I want him to fight me, to stay and fight for what we have, prove that there’s a chance he might eventually love me, too. When he gets up without a word, it’s all I can do to not cry and call out for him to wait. But when he moves, it’s in the wrong direction. He moves directly in front of me, putting his hands on my knees, his eyes searching mine.
“Tell me the real reason you didn’t put me in your book, Sadie. If you still want me to leave after that, I will, no questions asked.”
Why?
Why do I have to meet his conditions for him to leave my apartment? That’s bullshit. It’s annoying and stupid and selfish of him. He shows up here, demanding answers from me, demanding more than I’m willing to give, because I don’t want to get hurt by him again. I’m still trying to get over the last time he hurt me, when he walked away from me and everything we had. I don’t need to add insult to injury! And I don’t need him in my damn apartment telling me what to do! Who the hell does he think he is?
The quickest way to get him out is to tell him!
I fucking hate Future Sadie and all her damn logic.
Shoving my chair backwards, I stand and move away from him and his soft, kind eyes that are telling me all sorts of sweet things, but not the one thing I want to hear more than anything else. The one thing I’ve never wanted to hear from anyone before.
Hearing it from him would be my salvation, though. It would heal my heart and make me believe again. Or at least to have faith in it. There’s no way I don’t believe in love when my heart is shattered, and the tiny little pieces are following me around, bringing me the most pain at the most unfortunate times.
It’s not fair! I believe in motherfucking love, and it’s all his fault!
“Damn you!” I growl, and his eyes widen at my abrupt turnabout. “You’re not in my fucking book because you’re not just a damn number, Owen! I don’t care if you’re a three or a seven or a perfect goddamned ten! You wanted me to start feeling with my heart, and I did, and you
don’t even give a shit! So, fuck you! You win! You made me believe in love and instead of loving me back, you broke my fucking heart. I don’t want to date you, Owen, I want to love you! So, take the rest of your fucking cake and get out!”
He stands up, holding his hands up in front of his chest. “Sadie, calm down—”
“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! This is my apartment! You said you’d leave if I told you, so leave, dammit!”
“Can I tell you one thing?”
“Get out, Owen! Get out right now! Fucking leave! Please?”
The last word turns into a sob, making me even more pissed, at him and the whole goddamned world. I can’t cry, not now, not when he can see. He doesn’t get to see me that sad. Especially not over him.
Owen
“No.”
Her eyes raise to mine, wide, watery, and filled with rage. “You promised you’d leave, Owen! No questions asked.”
I slowly step toward her, making sure she sees what I’m doing. “I don’t have any more questions. And I will leave. But I didn’t promise I wouldn’t say anything before I left.”
Her face twists with everything she’s trying to hold back. Her eyes slam shut, and her hands clench into fists. A long, heavy breath gets sucked into her lungs, giving me the impression she’s trying to gather a lot more than just oxygen. “I need you to leave.”
With her eyes closed, I erase the distance between us, placing my hands on her shoulders first, so I don’t startle her. She grimaces but doesn’t push me away or tell me to stop. My hands move to cup her face. “I need to tell you one thing, Sadie. One thing, then I’ll go. But you need to look at me when I tell you.”
“No.”
Her voice is whisper soft and she raises her arms to grip my hands in hers. Is she trying to hold me in place, or break my fingers? I can’t tell. A tear squeezes out from between her lashes, and I brush it away with my thumb.
“Look at me, Sadie.”
More tears drip onto her cheeks. She swallows hard with a cringe. “I can’t.”