Chapter 41 Sadie
FORTY-ONE
SADIE
The sharp ring of her phone yanked her out of sleep, ripping her from a hazy, half-dream where everything was warm and easy and smelled faintly like Quentin.
She groaned and burrowed deeper into the solid weight beside her.
Quentin, completely unbothered by reality, stayed draped over her, his arm snug around her waist, his legs tangled with hers like he had no plans of letting her go anytime soon.
His slow, steady breaths tickled the back of her neck, and for a fleeting moment, she seriously considered hurling the phone across the room and sinking back into the delicious comfort of him.
But curiosity won out. She stretched an arm toward the nightstand, fumbling for her phone. Her fingers finally closed around it, and she squinted at the screen.
Unknown number with a Los Angeles area code.
She cleared her throat and brought the phone to her ear, her voice thick with sleep. “Hello?”
“Hi! I’m looking for Sadie Murphy?” a bright, professional voice chirped, entirely too peppy for this hour.
“That’s me,” she mumbled, sitting up and rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand. Quentin groaned at the movement but didn’t let go, instead pressing his face against her back like he was determined to sleep through it.
“Wonderful! My name is Amy. I work at Radiance Cosmetics. Mrs. Amato wants to get your schedule for the next few weeks and see if you’d be available to fly out to Los Angeles to discuss contracts and next steps.”
Sadie stiffened, holding in a squeal that was dangerously close to escaping. Holy shit. This was it. Her heart pounded with excitement, but she forced herself to stay composed.
“Well, I’m free after Monday,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “My project wraps today.”
The months had flown by so fast she hadn’t let herself think past them. She had been so focused on the present, on every stolen moment with Quentin, every whispered conversation, every lazy morning just like this. And now—
Now, there was an after.
Quentin would move on to his next project, to wherever his life pulled him next. And for the first time in her life, Sadie wasn’t already looking ahead to her next thrill.
She was excited about the thought of finally having time to develop her own cosmetics line, to build something that was hers. But it was quickly drowned out by the sharp ache of knowing she’d be leaving this place. Leaving him.
“Great! I’ll email you the flight details. Have a wonderful day!” Amy’s voice was all sunshine and efficiency, completely unaware of the panic she had just triggered. Sadie lowered the phone, staring at the screen for a moment before exhaling.
When she turned her head, Quentin was already awake, watching her with those ridiculously perceptive eyes.
His lips curled into a small, sad smile, the kind that made her chest feel tight, like he already knew what she was thinking.
Like he could read every single doubt, every fear she wasn’t saying.
“Big plans?” he murmured, voice still rough from sleep. The golden morning light spilled across his bare chest, casting soft shadows over the muscles and faint hair she had traced absently over countless times.
She reached out without thinking, running her fingers across his skin, feeling the warmth of him beneath her touch.
“Something like that,” she whispered. She had never wanted to ignore reality more than she did in this moment.
She pulled away, slipping from the bed. Quentin’s t-shirt draped over her, oversized and worn-in, smelling like him, like everything good in the world.
“I love you in my clothes,” Quentin said, his voice thick with sleep, gaze dark and heavy as he watched her move.
Her heart did a full-body collision with her ribs at the first three words of that sentence.
She didn’t think about it. Didn’t think about the way her pulse tripped over itself when he looked at her like that.
Didn’t think about the way her brain turned into a useless ball of nothing whenever he was around.
So maybe that’s why the words slipped out before she could stop them.
“I love everything about you.”
Oh god.
Did she really say that out loud? Her face burned. Pivoting on her heel so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet, she made a beeline for the kitchen as if the coffee maker could somehow erase the absolute catastrophe that just fell out of her mouth.
She grabbed the bag of coffee grounds with shaky hands, dumping an entirely unnecessary amount into the machine. She hit the brew button. Breathe. Act normal. Be cool. And then, as the rich coffee aroma filled the air, it hit her.
She stocked his favorite coffee. Not hers. His. The special torrefacto blend he swore by. Oh, she was in deep. Dangerously deep. Because if making space for a man in your caffeine routine wasn’t a red flag for feelings, she didn’t know what was.
Behind her, there was nothing but quiet. And then, warmth.
Arms looped around her waist, solid and steady, pulling her back against his chest. His breath, slow and even, tickled the side of her face. “I love everything about you too,” he whispered.
A thousand emotions tangled in her chest, thick and unrelenting, until one thought cut through the noise like a knife.
She turned in his arms, looking up at him. “You wanna know what? I lied.”
Quentin’s brows lifted, amusement flickering behind the sleepy haze of his gaze. “Yeah?”
“I don’t love everything about you,” she said quietly, voice raw and aching. “I hate that you’re famous. I hate that the world thinks it has a right to you.”
Something shifted in his expression, but he didn’t look surprised. Like he had been waiting for this moment to show up.
“The only one with any right to me is you,” he murmured. He leaned in, brushed his lips over hers, soft and certain.
And for one glorious, heart-melting second, she let herself believe him. Let herself fall into the warmth of his mouth, the way his hands framed her waist like he could hold her there forever.
But it wasn’t enough. Not for this. She pulled back, chest tight.
“Being with you means being torn apart by strangers,” she whispered, voice cracking like glass under pressure. “That I’m not beautiful enough. Not thin enough. Not soft or sweet or polite enough. That I don’t belong next to you.”
“You are achingly beautiful,” he said, his voice low. “And just in case that didn’t land… devastatingly gorgeous. And I love that you’re not polite. I love your fire, your sharp tongue, your spine. You don’t smooth your edges to make others comfortable and thank God for that.”
He reached for her, hand cradling her jaw, gently.
“I don’t care what the world thinks. You could show me every secret you’ve ever buried, show me every flame, every shadow, and I’d still want you. Again and again. Without end.”
Her eyes shimmered, and her hand fisted in the front of his shirt.
“I love every part of you,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “I love everything you are. And if the world can’t handle that… let it fucking choke.”
His voice softened, devastatingly tender.
“I belong with you. To you. And I wish you could see yourself the way I do. Because if you did…” He exhaled, voice low.
“You’d understand why I can’t breathe when you smile.
Why your voice quiets every restless part of me.
Why I’d burn every version of my life before you just to keep this. ”
His words sank deep, threading through the cracks inside her. And still she was drowning in doubt. Because it wasn’t that simple.
He was untouchable. Everything she wasn’t. The weight of it crashed down on her all at once, and she laughed bitterly, stepping out of his reach.
“That’s easy for you to say,” she said, arms folding tight around herself. “You walk into a room and people fall in love with you. You belong in the spotlight, Quentin. I never have.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? Why not be with someone who fits your world? Someone who makes sense. An actress. Someone easy.”
“I don’t want easy.” He spat the word like it was poison. His eyes burned into hers, dark with something raw and untamed. “I want you. Messy, reckless, impossible you.”
He stepped forward, his voice low and rough. “I want your fire. I want the way you drive me out of my goddamn mind. The nights I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about you. The days where nothing tastes right because you’re not there. I want you, Sadie. All of it. All of you.”
His fingers skimmed her arm, barely a touch, but it lit her nerves on fire. Because she knew that feeling. He lived in her bones. He wasn’t just a passing storm. He was the whole damn sky.
She reached for him before she could stop herself, hand pressing to his chest, feeling the wild thrum of his heart beneath her palm.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.
Quentin exhaled sharply, threading his fingers into her hair, then cupping her jaw with both hands. His forehead pressed to hers, voice fraying.
“Say yes,” he breathed. “For once in your life, belong to something.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Go chase every dream you’ve ever had. Run as far as you need to.” His voice dropped, vulnerable and sure all at once. “But come back to me. Let me be your home.”
Her vision blurred as emotion surged through her.
He wasn’t asking her to clip her wings. He wasn’t asking her to give anything up.
He was asking her to choose him. And that was the terrifying part, wasn’t it?
Because if she said yes, it wouldn’t just be him.
It would be a life. A future. A place where he was always waiting.
Her hands fisted in his shirt, grounding herself in the only thing that had ever felt this real.
Then there was a sharp knock. Sadie tensed, her body going taut with instinct, already trying to pull away. But Quentin didn’t let her. His arms wrapped tight around her waist. There was nothing tentative in his grip; it was all certainty and need.
His forehead stayed pressed to hers, as if he could hold back the world through sheer will. His breath moved slow and measured, but beneath his skin, she could feel him wound tight, his muscles strung like wire.
Another knock, louder this time, more insistent.
"We are not done," he murmured, his voice low and rough, with just enough of a growl to make her stomach tighten.
The promise in it sent a shiver through her, her heart racing like it was already obeying him.
His fingers brushed the small of her back, a lingering, maddening touch.
"Don’t even think about running from this. "
Sadie exhaled shakily, her body still humming from his touch, the words still circling in her head.
He was steady and unrelenting and she craved that.
Someone who wouldn’t let her drift beyond reach, who could see straight through the fortress she had so carefully built, and gently, firmly, refuse to let her vanish behind it.
Quentin stepped back. When he yanked the door open, it was with the force of a man ready for a fight, his jaw clenched. Avery stood there on the deck, completely unfazed, holding her trusty binder.
"I tried your cabin, and you weren’t there," Avery said, arching a knowing brow. "Figured you’d be here."
"Presumptuous," Quentin muttered. "Ever heard of boundaries?"
"Not in my job description," Avery chirped, as if this was a perfectly normal situation. Then, she turned to Sadie, flashing a smile so bright it could’ve lit up the room. "Hi, Sadie!"
Sadie, still standing in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, gave a half-hearted wave, still trying to regain her composure from the earthquake that had just rocked her world. Her skin still buzzed where Quentin had touched her, her pulse racing, her thoughts struggling to keep up.
Avery, blissfully unaware, beamed at them. "Last day of filming! Are you both excited?"
"No," Quentin grumbled, his voice dripping with annoyance.
"Yup," Sadie replied, her tone flat, the total opposite of how she felt. It was a miracle she was even standing at this point.
Avery’s grin widened, her gaze flicking back and forth between them with a smirk that could rival the Cheshire cat. "It’s like you two are back to your old ways."
"Hell no. We are not going back there," Quentin said sharply.
Avery just shrugged. "Well, okay. But we need to get a move on, or the director’s going to blacklist you both." She glanced at her watch, then shot Quentin a pointed look, as if daring him to argue.
Quentin grunted, clearly not amused, and shoved a hand through his already-messy hair. "I’ll meet you by wardrobe. Give me a minute with my girl."
My girl.
The words hit Sadie like a sudden wave, warm and reckless, spreading across her chest.
Avery, finally picking up on the hint, rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, walking off without another word.
The second the door clicked shut, Quentin spun back toward her, his hands immediately finding her waist like he couldn’t bear the distance between them for even a second longer. He pulled her flush against him, his body radiating heat.
Then he kissed her. It was deep, slow, and utterly consuming, like he had all the time in the world to remind her of how much he wanted her.
By the time he pulled away, her legs felt like jelly, her mind a tangle of emotions she couldn’t sort through, and her heart was left in a state of mayhem.
"Talk later," he said quickly, like he hadn’t just kissed her senseless.
She took a deep breath, trying to recover, but he was already stepping back, leaving her breathless, her chest still rising and falling like it couldn’t keep up.
He was gone, striding out the door to begin their last day on set.
But she felt him with her still, his touch and his words echoing in her mind, impossible to shake.