The truth was, I planned the hell out of that date. First, we’d walk through the current exhibit at the art gallery and discuss all our favorite paintings. Then I’d take her to Avery’s restaurant, The Arbutus, for dinner. If the weather was still nice, we’d go for a walk along the harbor.
I had looked forward to seeing her all day. The date didn’t feel like it was for practice.
It felt real, and worse, Iwantedit to be real.
She was leaving. She wasn’t dating. She hated me. She never, ever wanted to get married.
“I got nervous.”
I had panicked. I hunkered down in my office and dove into work, and when she called, I hated myself for ignoring it.
It was for the best, though. For both of us. A practice date was dancing dangerously close to the real thing.
Sadie would break my fucking heart if I wasn’t careful.
I handed her the bag, and she glanced inside before giving me a begrudging look. “Apology breakfast sandwiches?”
I nodded.
“It’s okay,” she told me with a little smile on her face. “I got you back.”
“How?” I frowned.
A wicked smile lifted on her features and she wiggled her eyebrows. “One second.” She opened the door and I stepped inside the foyer, watching as she ran up the stairs. She reappeared a moment later on the landing with a canvas and a huge grin. At the bottom of the stairs, she flipped it around to show me.
A laugh burst out of my chest.
She had painted me walking on the beach, staring at the sunset, tears running down my face.
She bit her lip, holding back her laughter. “Do you love it?”
I laughed again. Bright warmth burst in my chest as I studied this ridiculous painting. Her lines were sharp, the colors were bright and bold, and she nailed my features. She captured my messed-up hair, my arms across my chest, and my frown.
“You’re talented,” I told her.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh my god. Holden. This is ajoke.”
“Still.” I took the painting from her, studying the trees she had painted along the beach. “You’re good, Sadie.”
She snorted, rolled her eyes, and tried to take the painting from me, but I held on tight.
“Can I keep this?” I asked.
“Absolutely not. These are going in the trash.”
“Wait.” I shot her a funny look. “These?There are more?”
A minute later, I stood in her bedroom, staring at the collection of paintings of me crying. Beside me, she took a huge bite of the breakfast sandwich I had brought.
She rolled her lips to hide a grin. “I was really mad.”
“I can see that.”
Another pang of guilt hit me in the gut. Sadie was helping me, and I stood her up.
“I guess you have to get to work, huh?”
“I have some time before my first meeting.” The idea of tiling a bathroom alongside Sadie sent a thrill through my chest. When was the last time I had tiled a shower? I couldn’t even remember.