17. Sadie
17
SADIE
Because I’m a lightweight when it comes to drinking and finished nearly two whole margaritas, Sloane drives my car home while Molly follows us.
I do my best not to cry when I hug her and wish her good luck in Nashville, but it’s not easy. No matter how brave of a face Sloane puts on or the bottomless bank account her brother has to make sure she gets the best care possible, cancer is cancer.
It’s real and scary, making my fear feel paltry in comparison. But sex is a big deal for me, no matter how much I want it to be easy-peasy. Maybe if I’d dated or done it when I was younger, it wouldn’t have built up in my head like this.
My mom also didn’t instill in me the best impression of men. She refused to speak about my father other than to tell me he hadn’t wanted anything to do with either of us, and she didn’t date when I was younger. At least not until she met Piper’s dad.
Harold had been great for the first couple of months. He doted on Mom and taught me to throw a ball and put a worm on the end of a fishing hook—the kinds of things in my make-believe world that good dads did.
Then Mom got pregnant with Piper, and Harold disappeared before the first ultrasound.
At first, I’d been angry at my unborn sister for messing up my chance at a family with two parents. But Mom blamed him—men in general, to be honest—so I did too, eventually. Throughout my teen years, she muttered, “They won’t buy the cow if they can get the milk for free,” so often I almost gave up ice cream, even Rocky Road.
Ridiculous in retrospect, because why blame innocent ice cream on a jackwagon willing to walk away from his kid?
That could be why I went all in on my Bradley Carlson crush. He was safe. We were friends, but he dated cheerleaders and popular girls with shiny hair and short skirts.
Even in high school, I dressed more for function than fashion, and I’d been scared half to death of sex—not just the act, although that’s part of it.
I’m scared of what it means. How intimacy leads to heartache. At least it did in my mom’s experience, which is what informed my feelings about relationships the most.
On my way into the house, I glance toward Ian’s, but the inside is dark. It’s only eight-thirty, and the long summer day is just starting to give way to night, so I highly doubt he, Riva, and his brother have turned in early.
Although he’s big and intimidating, I liked Felix on sight. It’s hard to imagine the kind of trouble those Barlowe boys got into when they were younger.
I still can’t quite believe the kind of trouble I want with Ian.
There are two dogs boarding with me this week, and I let them and Max into the backyard to do their evening business then head upstairs for a shower. I spend longer than usual standing under the hot water, washing away the anxiety about my life and Sloane’s future, how big Ian might actually be and what that will mean for…everything.
When the shower runs cold, I dry off, then open the top drawer of my dresser and run a finger along the lace edge of one of the panty sets Iris had sent to my house.
That’s right, I’m an adult, but my friend had to buy me decent underwear. I should be more embarrassed than I am. Mostly, I’m grateful to have something nice to wear the weekend of the wedding.
I assume that’s when Ian and I will do the deed, if I don’t chicken out. And I won’t, despite my fear. More recently, the worry isn’t as much about the physical part as my feelings for Ian.
I shouldn’t have feelings for my sexy neighbor other than physical attraction. My heart shouldn’t thud every time his glacial blue eyes meet mine or the corner of his mouth tips up into that hint of a smile I don’t see him give to anyone else. Feelings are dangerous. They open me up to being hurt or abandoned, and I’m not willingly inviting either of those prospects into my life.
Max is the only dog allowed on the furniture—another perk of being mine. He and I settle in for a night of Friends reruns while Millie and Mo, the Bernedoodles staying for the week, curl up on oversized dog beds in the family room.
Headlights illuminate my front window as a car pulls into Ian’s driveway, and I hear muffled voices from next door. He must have taken his brother and Riva out for dinner. The girl laughs and then squeals, and I can imagine Felix picking her up again. He seems to enjoy tossing her over his shoulder, and Riva obviously adores him.
I should work harder at lightening the tone of my relationship with Piper. We talk and text plenty, but I’m always in the big-sister-playing-mom role. My baby sis is an adult now, about to be married, and it’s time I start treating her as one.
My phone pings a minute later, and I stupidly hope it’s Ian checking in. It’s a dumb expectation, because while we’ve gotten into the habit of texting, it’s most likely because he’s bored, and I’m one of his few friends in town. But tonight he’s got his brother and is probably not so bored.
Piper’s name and a photo of her with Max when he was a puppy pops up on the screen.
Piper: How’s my boy tonight? I’m missing his doggy snores.
Piper almost always starts a chat asking about Max, which is sweet. But now that Ian has pointed out that there’s more to me than the dogs in my care, it feels odd that she rarely asks what’s going on in my life. Maybe when things calm down after the wedding, the two of us can plan a girls’ trip and start to change our dynamics a bit.
Me: Picture of Max laying tummy up on the couch, snoring peacefully.
Me: Missing you as always.
Piper:
I want to create something new with my sister, a relationship where we’re friends and she treats me like her sibling—not a stand-in mom, but a sister.
Three blinking dots appear, then vanish several times, and I sit up straighter.
Me: Everything okay?
At the same time, her message comes through.
Piper: Why didn’t you ever have a boyfriend when I was younger? Was it because of your feelings for Bradley?
The words hit me like a punch, and I suck in a breath. It takes a minute to think of how to reply, but my fingers tremble too hard to hit the right keys.
I tap the call button under Piper’s name instead. She picks up on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Are you mad?”
“Shocked is a better term. What’s going on to bring this up now?”
There’s a long pause, then a sniff like she’s holding back tears. “Bradley says I’m acting strange. He says you were always weird about guys and dating. He thinks we both have man issues and blames Mom.”
I press a hand to my thudding heart. Bradley Carlson can fuck right off with his arm-chair psychobabble. “Everyone has issues,” I assure my sister. “We’re doing just fine, Piper.”
At least I can say I’ve gotten better at picking friends in the years since high school and college. “I’m not hung up on Bradley. I’m dating Ian, Piper. I told you that. I sent pics. He’s coming to the wedding.”
She laughs softly. “Right. My blend-into-the-wall sister is going to overshadow me at my own wedding with her famous boyfriend.”
“I’m not trying to overshadow you,” I snap. Hell, this all started for her benefit. “And blend-into-the-wall is a little rough.”
“I’m sorry.” I hear the remorse in her tone. “I’m all spun up. People get nervous before they walk down the aisle, and I want to marry Bradley. We’ve come this far. I think he still wants to marry me.”
“You think?” I sit up straight. “What is this about, Piper? Bradley is damn lucky to be marrying you.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my…sister.”
I hear the pause and understand her hesitation. It breaks my heart for both of us. I’ve been functioning as Piper’s only parent for nearly as long as Mom was alive. It’s no wonder our dynamic is messed up.
“Stop it, Pip. If you and Bradley are having issues, or you’re having second thoughts, all you have to do is say the word, and we’ll cancel the wedding. But you aren’t going to make it about me. You’re not in high school where you could use me to get out of doing stuff with your friends.”
“You offered to be my scapegoat when I needed one.”
Sometimes I forget that my sister is only twenty-two and not that far removed from her teenage years. “I know, but this isn’t the same thing.”
“He says Mom hated men,” she tells me in a rush of breath.
I’d like to kick Bradley Carlson in the shin.
“Mom didn’t hate men.”
“She hated your dad and my dad.”
“She didn’t hate all men,” I amend. “Neither you nor I hate men.” Although I might hate Bradley.
“He’s worried I’m not committed enough.”
“How is planning a wedding not committed?” I demand, my voice rising. Now I want to kick Bradley in the nuts.
“I think he’s nervous, too, and this is how he’s trying to tell me he’s afraid to be vulnerable.”
I choke back a snort. It sounds like he’s telling my sister he’s an asshole. I’m uncomfortable stepping in because if she calls this off based on something I say and then regrets it, that’s on me. I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me.
Our relationship might need some work, but I love Piper. She’s the only family I have and means the world to me. She’s been my world, literally.
“Does he make you happy?”
“Of course,” she says, almost too readily. “We have similar goals. We want the same things. We’re suited, Sadie.”
“None of those sound like the happily-ever-after you deserve.”
“Does dating an ex-NFL star make you happy?” she fires back. “You, who wants everything understated and practical. You don’t even like people looking at you. It's a given that people are looking at The Playmaker, especially in Skylark. I can’t talk to one of my friends without hearing about an Ian Barlowe sighting in the grocery store or the farmers market or wherever.”
I swallow, and adrenaline shoots through my veins as I think about how to answer.
“Are you happy, Sads?” she repeats.
“Yes.” I’m shocked to realize how true it is despite everything. “Being with Ian makes me happy, and I don’t care about all that other stuff. Let people look. It’s about time they see me happy.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “Good for you. I’m sorry about what I said about you overshadowing me at the wedding. I’m excited to meet Ian. Not because he’s famous, but because he matters to you.”
“Thanks, Pip. I meant it when I said we can handle any second thoughts about marrying Bradley.”
“I want to do this.” She sounds more confident, but I’m not convinced. “He does make me happy, and I love him. It’s just nerves on both our parts. If I had it to do over again, maybe I’d choose to elope.”
I blow out a laugh. “There’s still time.”
“I’ll be arriving in Vail on Thursday.” So much for eloping. “You’re coming up Friday morning, right?”
“First thing.”
“And Ian is okay golfing with the groomsmen?”
“He’s planning on it.”
“Okay, then. Ignore my wedding jitters. I need to go.”
“I love you, Piper. We can make it through anything. You and me. Always.”
“I love you too, Sads. Give Maxie a kiss for me.”
“I will.” We disconnect, and I reach out and rub the dog’s soft belly. “I’m not sure she’ll ever find anyone who loves her like you,” I tell him. He yawns because that’s old news for our old boy.
The doorbell rings, odd at this time of night. Millie and Mo pop up with a barrage of woofing, and Max rolls off the couch in a more dignified manner. The four of us move toward the door, and my breath catches at Ian in all his handsome bigness, smiling at me from the other side.