Chapter 22 Sadie
SADIE
The ribbon in my hand is red satin, exactly three inches wide and precisely pre-measured for the table garlands.
But I can’t seem to make myself tie the next bow.
The auditorium is nearly done. The lights are hung, the garland is fluffed, and the tables are lined up so neatly they could pass military inspection.
The kids’ crafts are drying. The centerpieces are centered.
Everything should feel perfect, Sadie-approved.
So why do I feel like I’m about to throw up?
I stare blankly at the last centerpiece box and try not to think about all the things that could still go wrong. My heart's racing, and I can’t tell if it’s from the stress, the caffeine, or just the crushing pressure of trying to be enough.
“You’re glaring at that ribbon like it owes you money.” Danny’s voice breaks through my rapid thoughts.
“Pretty sure it does,” I mutter.
He walks in, holding a to-go tray full of coffee cups like he’s some kind of holiday delivery guy. “I brought bribery. Caramel latte, extra whip, just like you like it.”
I take the cup without looking at him and focus on the list on the clipboard instead. “Thanks.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then I feel him stepping closer, but not close enough to crowd me.
“You okay?” he asks, and for once, there’s no teasing tone. He’s genuinely asking.
I swallow hard, still staring at the damn ribbon. “What if it’s not enough?”
“What?”
“This whole thing. This night, the lights, the schedule I worked tirelessly on. What if at the end of the day, it fails, it sucks. The kids forget their lines, and there’s not enough sweets for everyone.
What if they just see me holding this clipboard, trying to look important but still just failing?
” I’m embarrassed to say all that, but it’s how I feel.
And there’s no taking it back now. I wait for his sarcastic comment, probably something cheesy, and involving mistletoe or elves or boobs.
Instead, Danny just says, “Come here.” And because I’m too tired to argue, I follow him to the side of the stage. There’s a small bulletin board I hadn’t noticed before tucked away near the corner of the room.
“What is this?” I ask cautiously.
“Just something I’ve been working on with the kids.”
The board is full of handwritten notes, some in crooked print, some with glitter glue still drying, but all on those damn color sticky notes he had stuck around my kitchen this morning.
Thanks for the hot chocolate!
This was the best day ever!
Miss Sadie makes Christmas magic.
I press a hand to my chest before I even realize I’m doing it. The pressure in my throat rises so fast I think I might actually cry. “They wrote these?”
“All on their own,” he says softly.
My eyes skim over one more that reads:
I want to be like Miss Sadie when I grow up.
I turn to look at him, and everything about him is different somehow. The boy I thought was unserious. The man who I thought would never get it. He got it without me even asking. He heard the thing I didn’t say out loud; he heard how much I wanted this to matter.
“You did this?” I whisper.
He shrugs. “I see you, Sadie. Even when you’re hiding behind a checklist.”
I don’t say anything. I just nod and take a sip of my latte so I don’t do something insane like kiss him in front of a wall of glitter glue. But something shifts inside me. I don’t just want to be seen. I want to be seen by him. And I think he’s actually doing it this time.