Page 88 of Our Sadie

“Yes. I’m in love with you. All three of you.” Her voice is sincere. Aching. It’s making my chest twinge. But I have to be sure.

“Does that mean you were going to offer us a long-term contract?”

“Absolutely. I want you to come home with me to Boston, for us to keep building on what we already have. But now it’s a mess with Jerome, and I...” There’s a hitch in her voice, and she swallows, visibly reining herself in. “I fucked it all up beyond recognition.”

“Did you tell him any of this?” Zach murmurs to her.

“No, I... I basically yelled at him without thinking, and now...” She lifts her good arm helplessly. Regretfully. And to me, enough’s enough.

I uncoil myself to my full height and approach Jerome’s room. Banging my knuckles against his door, I call out. “Jerome, you in there?”

There’s no response, so I try the knob. It clicks open revealing that all his belongings are still tucked away, his phone sitting immobile on his nightstand.

“If he’s gone anywhere, it must not be far.” The thing is, this chalet isn’t small. I’m about to devise a strategy for seeking him out when Sadie’s features brighten.

“Wait, I bet I know where he is.”

And when she gallivants off, Zach and I are right on her heels.

THIRTY: Still Here

JEROME

There’s a sizable portion of me who nearly marched right out that front door without giving a damn about these past weeks or how much I thought this woman meant to me. Yet, I didn’t. And that’s because despite her betrayal and the furious sentiments she spat at me, I’m a pragmatist. I don’t like to behave rashly no matter how egregious the scenario.

So, I’m still here.

I wouldn’t say I’m hiding, but I’m purposely not in plain sight. There’s a nook that I discovered one time when we first arrived here, and it’s this location where I’ve positioned myself crouching inside an intersection between two tall shelves. In my hands is a book. It’s not just any tome, either. It’s something that’s always been significant to me.

My father isn’t perfect, but anytime I was down as a child, he’d pick me up, give me a cookie, and read to me from this story. I need the comfort now, too, so I seek out one of the quotes that I’ve read so many times.

Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.

A lump forms behind my Adam’s apple. That’s why this disaster has impacted me more than I care to admit. I do care too much, and the woman I care the most about isn’t returning the favor. My gaze glides further through the pages, this time snagging on this...

I used to believe in forever, but forever’s too good to be true.

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