Chapter 17
James
Sadie never speaks much in meetings or contributes to the chat in the office, and I glance over at where she’s curled up on the couch, nose buried in a fantasy book, before looking out of the window.
In the silent streets below Des’s apartment building, the light is reflecting off the cobbles in the mid-morning sun.
That hug with Sadie made me ache, like a phantom pain.
It felt so good to wrap my arms around someone else, like a bone-deep comfort.
There’s something about Sadie that I really like: a stillness, a sense of calm, a need not to impose on everyone else or insert her opinions or problems into everything.
The old warehouse buildings are basking like sharks in the sunshine, windows gleaming.
A strange desperation grabs me; it’s the kind of Sunday Jane and I would have gone for a cycle down on the boardwalk near where we used to live, but the thought of going out on my own makes my insides want to curl up and die.
“Come on,” I say, turning around to Sadie. “Let’s go for a coffee. We can sit and read for a bit, then walk up the esplanade.”
“Like, buy a coffee from a coffee shop?” Sadie says, eyes scudding across mine before they come to rest at a point over my left shoulder.
Despite our hug yesterday, she’s back to not meeting my eyes. I’ve been watching her in the office, and she doesn’t have any problem with looking at women, specifically Jo.
I hum to myself. “Yeah, sound good?” I don’t want her to be nervous with me, and she seemed fine when I was talking to her last night. “Would you rather stay in and read?” I say, barreling on. “I’m okay with that. Don’t feel you have to …”
“I’ve never done that.”
I stare at her. “Never done what?”
“Gone out for a coffee.”
“What, even on your way into work? At lunchtime? You’ve never bought a coffee, sat in a coffee shop and people-watched, got engrossed in your book, or worked on your laptop?”
She shakes her head.
“Why not?”
She shrugs. “I don’t think I’m that kind of person.”
There’s a kind of person who goes to coffee shops?
Well, of course there is, James, you idiot.
A lot of people can’t afford to spend seven dollars on hot water and a bit of flavoring.
My mind drifts back to her stepdad looking at the list of companies in our building: Money was clearly a problem for him, wasn’t it?
Is this her code for I can’t afford it? She earns a decent salary now, with skills that will only become more valuable over time.
But I understand that old habits die hard.
“Is this another first?”
Her lips curl up reluctantly.
“My treat. I’m going to give you a magical experience and introduce you to the wonders of coffee shops. Go and put your shoes on.”
She stands up and disappears into her room, and I grab my book and keys.
She reappears with a pair of sneakers on her feet.
She’s curiously up for new experiences, Sadie, like no one ever asked her before.
Her quietness could fool you into thinking she’s unadventurous, but I don’t think she is.
I’ve never met anyone so open to other people’s ideas.
She tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Where are we going?”
“How about Coffee Project? It’s just around the corner, and I love their coffee. It’ll be quiet on the weekend downtown.”
“Okay,” she says, staring at her shoes.
As we head down the street, Sadie clears her throat. “All the money I made from when I was old enough to work, from the waitressing and cleaning, I gave to my mom.”
I turn toward her.
“She was a …” Her voice falters. “… single parent for a long time,” she adds.
Oh. Interesting. When did her stepdad come into the picture?
New York is an expensive city. I have so many questions.
But I’m starting to think that Sadie has a lot in common with Mr. Karen—ask too much and she’ll disappear into the ducting and come out all dusty and disgruntled.
I want her to tell me things of her own accord about her life and why her stepdad turned up at the office and why he hit her, because I’m damn sure it was him. A fiery heat ignites in my gut.
But all I do is nod. “I get it, Sadie. When I was a student, I didn’t spend money in coffee shops, either.”
Her face slowly turns pink as I take in the freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“Did you finish The Sands of Mars?” she says in a sudden burst, and I shake my head as I scan over the rest of her face.
Her hair is a myriad of different golden browns: lighter tones at the ends and around her face, darker underneath.
I turn and glance up the street. This is an easy topic of conversation for her, isn’t it?
Books. I launch into a description of all the retro science fiction I’ve read and all the technology they didn’t have in the seventies that they imagined some future humans would have, and we now do, like cell phones.
And she nods and listens to me all the way to the door of Coffee Project, and I pull it open and stand back with a slight bow.
“Welcome to the house of mysterious magical mayhem,” I say, and a couple of people heading out give me a slightly odd look as they pass. Sadie giggles as she steps through the doorway. Honestly, she’s a blast to take out.
She glances around as I step in behind her, and I follow her gaze to the matte-black beamed ceiling and white marble counter.
“I don’t know why I’ve never been into places like this, James.
My mom would be horrified at the idea of spending …
” She trails off and looks at the board, eyebrows rising.
“Christ. Seven dollars on a cup of coffee that you could make at home for less than fifty cents.” Her eyes slide toward mine.
“Especially if you could also make it for free in the office you worked in.”
I nudge her. “Well, it’s just as well I’m paying then. What would you like?” She steps forward, pale eyes scanning the baked goods in the glass cabinet. “And yes, we’re getting something sweet as well,” I add. “Might as well get the whole experience.”
“Oh my God, banana chocolate loaf?” she says. “That’s an actual thing?”
I grin down at her. “Invented by the baking gods. Maybe we could try making it ourselves?”
Her eyes are shining when she gazes up at me, like I just said something great. “We could try making a cake at home? That would be …”
She called it home. I don’t want to examine too closely how warm it makes me feel that she’s settling in.
She curls a long tendril of hair around a pale finger like a copper coil.
Her nail is bitten down, and there’s something cool about her lack of polish, like she has more important things to do with her time.
What were we talking about? … Banana chocolate loaf. That was it. “How hard can it be? It’s following a recipe. My mom would help if we needed any advice.”
She’s staring at me now, and my face heats.
I’d tackle a hundred difficult things for a woman if they looked at me the way I sometimes imagine Sadie does—like I’m God and Adonis rolled into one.
And now I’m the one with ridiculous fantasies.
I’m sure she doesn’t look at me like that at all, more like she’s horrified at the idea of being forced to do more cooking.
I give her another nudge. “Go and find us a couple of seats.”
She moves off to the window ledge, and I order her a cappuccino, because I’ve watched what she selects from the machine in the office, and a double-shot espresso for myself.
As I stand by the counter waiting for our drinks, her face is reflected in the glass windows at the front of the shop.
She’s studying the street outside like it’s a riveting piece of theater.
Sadie’s like a still lake: so much going on underneath the water.
I lean back, stretching out my back. It’s good to be out.
Whenever I’m near a computer, I start worrying about work and emails.
My time has been so subsumed with deadlines, Des’s departure, and taking over his role that I haven’t stopped and breathed for months.
I’ve worked through every weekend trying to keep up.
The server sets down two drinks and a paper bag on the counter and calls out, “James!” I grab everything and head over to where Sadie is sitting, chin in her hand, and place it all on the ledge in front of her, watching her face as she takes in the cups and the bag.
“Does it look sufficiently magical?” I whisper, dropping into the chair beside her and pulling The Sands of Mars out of my pocket and placing it next to the coffees.
“Maybe. A cake with unusual powers might be interesting. Very Alice in Wonderland.”
I grin at her and her eyes flutter away from mine. She nods at my book. “That’s what we do; we sit and read?”
I smile at her. “We could chat.”
She reaches for her coffee, taking a sip while I cut the banana loaf into four squares. For some reason, I thought sharing would be nice.
“Have you ever played Parks?” she says.
Well, that’s a segue and a half. “Parks?”
“It’s a logic game. You put trees into rows, columns, and colored shapes. Two trees per row, column, and shape.”
“Sounds interesting. You want to show me?”
She pulls her phone out of her pocket, and I close my hand over hers. Her skin is warm as her eyes dart to mine.
“Phones aren’t allowed in coffee shops,” I say quietly.
Her eyes flit around the people next to us, then she makes a face. “Oh, you,” she says, and I laugh.
“Perhaps we should look at it tonight. If I upload an app, I’ll see all the work notifications, and I was just thinking how perfect it was to be out doing something else.”
“It’s a date.” A flush climbs up her cheeks.
I’d love to take Sadie out somewhere nice, not just a coffee shop, but I can’t say that to her, can I? So all I say is “Good” as I focus out onto the street.
Her eyes lift, studying the side of my face.