Chapter 18 Sadie
SADIE
Three days.
There are three days until the gala, and everything is somehow both ahead of schedule and falling apart.
I stand in the middle of the auditorium, gripping my clipboard and barking orders at the lighting crew who, despite printed diagrams and three separate walkthroughs, still can’t tell the difference between “fireplace glow” and “haunted-house red.”
“We need the soft red, not the blood moon day of the zombie lights,” I snap, pointing toward the spotlight currently beaming red on the stage like it’s trying to summon demons.
And then I hear him.
“I don’t know,” Danny calls from somewhere behind me. “I kinda like the Rudolph vibe. It says, ‘Welcome to the Gala. Jingle my bells before the world ends.’”
A few people around him chuckle at his joke, but I don’t turn around.
I’ve done my best to try not to think of him, but every memory of how we spent our night together led to another thought: Could we do it again?
I fought the urge to call him last night, but after I snapped at him and then left him standing there, I didn’t know what to do.
I really needed him to dull the noises in my head, and I just wanted to see how it would be.
If we could be a normal couple on a normal night.
His comments today show me he’s never going to grow up.
“Mr. Love,” I grit out.
“You rang?” he says, suddenly appearing beside me. He’s twenty minutes late and has the audacity to look pleased that he’s here at all.
“You were supposed to meet the stage rental team at nine. Nine, Danny. The time most everyone starts work, not whatever time you think you should start work.”
He shrugs, checking his wrist for the watch he definitely isn’t wearing. “I was in the building but got held up in my classroom. But I brought muffins.”
“You brought chaos, as usual,” I snap. “And carbs don’t fix wasted time.”
“The other night you told me carbs are important. You remember? On our walk home?” I side-eye him and see him grinning back at me. “Maybe you should have one. Sounds like you have low blood sugar.”
I glare at him. One slow breath in. One slow breath out. I know what he’s doing, but there's no time for jokes right now. Why doesn’t he get that?
“I am trying to keep this gala from imploding.”
“And I’m trying to keep you from imploding.”
“By being useless?”
“By being charming,” he says, flashing that grin with the dimple that makes everyone fall at his feet. He leans down, “Do you need a reminder of how charming I can be?”
I fold my arms tight, hugging the clipboard so I don’t hit him with it.
“We need to finalize the floor plan, double-check lighting cues because clearly they’re color blind, confirm the number of guests, and—oh, yeah—make sure the stage is built correctly and strong enough to hold a dozen kids without having to call the ambulance halfway through their sing-along. ”
He steps in front of me, standing tall. “I'll have you know I built that stage myself.”
I deadpan. “Yourself?”
“Well, I had a little help. But I did it and tested it out. We can test it out together if you’d like.” His smirk is too much for me right now.
“When the hell did you have time to build that stage?”
“After our night together–”
“Shh!” I look around frantically to make sure no one heard him. “Are you serious right now?”
He clears his throat. “After you avoided me by running to a fake meeting at the winery, I came here and worked on the stage.”
“With who?”
“Honestly, does it matter who? It’s done.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Yes, Danny. It matters because this is my name. My event. My reputation. And you’re treating it like a backyard barbecue. And if someone gets hurt, I’ll never get another event job.”
He lifts his hands defensively. “Whoa, okay. I didn’t realize we were going full Sadie Spiral today.”
I blink. “Full what?”
“You know,” he says casually. “Eyes twitching, clipboard death-grip, speaking like the world ends if someone moves a folding chair six inches left.”
I narrow my eyes. “Forgive me for giving a damn about something other than your muffins.”
Another smirk. “That sounded dirtier than you intended.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You just aren’t sure how to love me.”
I gasp. There it is, his simple response that means so much more and proves once again that he knows me. I’m not trying to hear him right now, though. There’s too much to be done, and Danny is too much to think about right now while I’m in the middle of a production schedule and lighting nightmare.
I wish I hated him.
I wish I knew how to love him.
It would make this easier.
Especially now, when I can still feel him wrapped around me in bed. I can still feel his stubble against my thighs and hear him professing everything I need to hear.
I ignore him and dig deeper and say, “Maybe I was wrong about the other night,” and I feel the air change immediately.
“What?” his voice comes out sounding almost incredulous and a bit hurt.
I keep my eyes on the catering layout sketch. “Maybe we shouldn’t have tried again. If you can call it that. I don’t know. Maybe you were just being you, and you’re right. I don’t know how to–” I choke on the word love as it almost slips out, “I don't know what to do with you.”
He’s quiet for longer than usual. “Is that what you think? I was just saying things as usual to get you into bed?”
“It worked.”
He scoffs. “It actually didn't.”
I turn on him, my blood running hot. “See? I knew it!”
“I’m just agreeing with you, Sadie. You’re the one telling everyone nothing happened.” He raises a brow at me. “Because from where I sat that night, a lot more happened than nothing. And it all mattered to me.”
I point my finger at him. “It matters, Danny. But not right now! I can’t focus when you’re around. I can’t breathe when you look at me like that, and I have a job to do.”
“Funny. I feel the same way. But that’s why I stick around.”
I right my back. “You don’t get to play the noble card like you’re protecting me from myself.”
Danny stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then he steps in, just close enough but still not touching. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do,” he whispers, “is add a little excitement to your life. And a little beauty to mine.”
The background noise fades away as the pounding of my heart fills my ears. I hold his gaze for a moment, then pull my clipboard in tighter and force my voice steady. “I don’t need excitement, and I don’t need a savior.”
I ignore his beauty comment and walk away from him and his words that have my head spinning right now. I don’t look back because if he follows, I might turn around and tell him I do need a savior.