Page 61 of In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes

She let out a surprised, pleased laugh. “That was easy. Fabulous. You’ll have to do a formal interview with HR but now we don’t even have to do a job posting.”

“The only thing is, I’m here until March.”

“Hmm. That should be fine. Shannon, the designer you’re replacing, is going on maternity leave in April. This is a permanent position, though,” she was quick to add. “We want to grow the team.”

My chest felt funny. Fluttery at the idea of working with Claire, but tight at the reminder that I was leaving. I swallowed. “Great.”

We exchanged goodbyes and Claire promised to send over documents in a few days before we hung up. Holden’s gaze flicked to mine.

“I just got my dream job back in Toronto,” I told him.

He stared at me for a second with an unreadable expression before he nodded. “That’s great, Sadie. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” I chewed my lip and bounced on my heels, not sure what else to say.

He nodded at the trail, the way we had come. “Let’s head back.”

As we walked back to the inn through the quiet forest, an image flashed into my head of this morning, curled up against Holden. Another lick of hesitation hit me in the gut.

No way, I told myself. This job was what I needed to keep me on the right track. If I were leaving in March, there was no way I’d get attached to anyone here in Queen’s Cove.

Especially not Holden.

* * *

That evening after Holden left,my painting supplies stole my attention.

I took a seat at Katherine’s old desk. When selecting furniture for donation, I held off on getting rid of this piece. I could picture her sitting here, gazing out at the ocean through the window. The drawers were still full of her things—pens and sticky notes and old photographs. Also, it fit nicely in her little office alcove. It didn’t seem right to part with it.

The conversation Holden and I had in the forest about painting replayed in my head, and my fingers itched with restless energy. What he had said about art making him feel connected to other people.

My chest hummed with a warm, longing sensation. Outside, the sun set, splashing bright colors across the sky.

I picked up one of my smaller blank canvases and propped it up on the desk before smearing paint on my palette. The movements were so natural, like my hands knew exactly how much paint to squeeze out.

And then I began to paint.

I sunk deep into focus, enjoying the weird acrylic scent of the paints, the cool breeze from the open window, and the wavering reflection of the sky across water. I painted what I saw, and what I saw was beautiful.

I liked this version of myself, I realized. Not the woman who got accidentally drunk on cordial. She could stay far away. I’d had enough of her.

This version, the woman who painted? I was happy in this moment. A fraction of the weight on my shoulders lifted.

24

Sadie

“What is this?”I sniffed the shot and cringed. “Olivia, this smells like death.”

Olivia offered me a wry smile. “It’ll make you feel better. I didn’t put alcohol in yours or Hannah’s.”

“Good. I’m never drinking again.” The four of us tipped the shots back and I made a face. “Is that pickle juice?”

Hannah peered at her empty shot glass with surprise. “That’s good. I like that.”

“It’s a pickleback,” Olivia told us as we sat in front of the fireplace. “It’ll replenish all those salts you lost from taking your top off last night.”

Hannah and Avery dissolved into giggles and I gasped in horror at Olivia. My stomach dropped through the core of the earth.

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