Chapter 13
SADIE
Nash hasn’t looked at me for three weeks.
The last time his eyes truly met mine was in the middle of Reggie’s kitchen when he asked me why I said yes to Stetson’s proposal.
I couldn’t verbalize then what I know now.
Stetson is my past and my future. He’s the backbone of the life plan I laid out for myself in Skaneateles. I’ve always known I would marry him. Everyone expects a happy ending from us. So when he knelt down on one knee, holding a diamond out in front of him, there was no other option besides yes.
And Nash keeping his distance is exactly what I needed to find some clarity.
The internship is over in a few weeks. I’ll move home, and Nash will be a small blip on my radar, never to be thought about again.
“Are you having a good time, Sadie?” Josie sits in the empty seat next to mine.
Despite being the week of Thanksgiving, Superior Health’s Christmas party is in full swing. Nash thinks it’s better to have the holiday party before the craziness of December sets in.
Grace, Josie, and Harper worked hard all day transforming the rented hotel conference room into a Christmas wonderland. Strands of fresh garland line the walls of the room. Round tables with red and white linens create a semi-circle in front of the live band. Twinkling lights hang overhead like a circus tent, and in the middle of it all, a giant mistletoe looms over everything.
I smile back at Josie. “I’m having a great time. You guys have really outdone yourselves with the decorations.”
“How come you’re not dancing?”
“Oh…” My eyes shoot to the dance floor, where Nash leads everybody in the YMCA. This is his company. His party. I don’t want to ruin his night by being out there with everyone. “I’m just kind of tired.”
She grabs my hands, pulling me to my feet and out to the dance floor. “You can sleep on your flight home tomorrow.”
“I’m driving home, not flying,” I say over the music, but the closer we get to the band, the louder it is.
I maneuver my way to the outskirts of the circle, on the opposite side as Nash. The next three songs are upbeat, and I do my best to dance with my back to him, avoiding all contact.
Then the lead singer says, “Grab a partner because we’re going to slow things down a little.”
The piano starts, and I immediately recognize “All I Want for Christmas is You”—Michael Bublé style. That’s my cue to go sit down again. At a party where everyone besides me has their significant other with them, I’m the odd man out.
Spinning around, I nearly bump into Nash.
I hate that I immediately notice how good he smells.
The reflection of the Christmas lights dot his green eyes in the most magical way. “Dance with me?”
“Uh…” I tuck my hair behind my ear, keeping my hand there as I nervously look around at all the other paired-up couples. “I don’t know if?—”
“Dance with me.” This time, it sounds more like a command than a question. He takes my hand in his, wrapping his arm around me. His fingers skim the contour of my back before cupping the curve of my waist.
A riot of feelings pulses through my chest as I place my hand on Nash’s shoulder, letting him lead us to the song's beat. We’ve never been this close. It’s innocent—the type of dance position you’d see from awkward teenagers who are afraid to touch their seventh-grade dance partner. But even the not -touching is killing me.
I feel his eyes on me in a pleading way, begging me to look at him. My focus firmly stays on the wall over his right shoulder. I am zeroed in.
“I hear you’re going home for Thanksgiving.”
My gaze darts to him, but one glance at his soft lips, and I immediately swing my eyes back to the spot on the wall. It’s safer there. “Yeah, I’m driving first thing in the morning.”
“Is everything back to normal between you and your parents?” It’s small talk, but not. His question is actually something real and vulnerable in my life.
“Not even close, but we’ll pretend and fake it because that’s what we do.”
“How are you holding up without Tate? The first holidays are always the worst.”
“Honestly, I’m dreading it.”
I allow myself a peek at Nash.
Bad idea.
He looks so handsome when he’s being sincere.
“But you’ll have Stetson. He’ll help get you through.” His words are a peace offering, as if he's letting me know he’s resigned to our engagement.
“I’ll have Stetson,” I say to myself just as much as I say it to him.
“Look, you two! You’re under the mistletoe.” Allen lets go of his girlfriend’s waist long enough to point to the hanging plant.
Nash and I slowly lift our eyes to the sprigs directly above us. Our feet stop, and our arms drop.
“You have to kiss. It’s bad luck if you don’t,” Allen’s girlfriend says, keeping her watchful eyes on us as they dance close by.
I run my fingers through my hair, tucking loose strands behind my ear.
Nash’s eyes dart from the ring on my finger to my face. “Sadie’s engaged to another man. It wouldn’t be right to kiss her.”
“Aww, it’s tradition,” Allen barks.
Heartbeats drive through my chest, each pulse laden with worry.
What if Nash kisses me?
What if he doesn’t ?
“Nah.” He takes a step back. “I’ll let Stetson be the one to carry out that tradition with her.”
In one quick beat of my heart, I feel the disappointment of not knowing what a kiss from Nash would feel like and the anxiety of wondering if my worn-out passion with Stetson is all I have to look forward to.
The song slows to an end, but my raging heart pounds on.
“I need some air.” The announcement was more for me than anyone else.
I flee to the exit, walking down the long hallway with awful burnt-orange carpet until I’m through the hotel lobby and outside.
Biting cold air splashes over my skin. I close my mouth, breathing its coolness in through my nose. My back rests against the side of the building, using it to hold me up. Slowly, I lift my chin, fighting the blinding streetlights for a glimpse at the night sky.
“I like you.”
I straighten like a soldier called to attention and stare back at Nash. A small place in the corner of my heart hoped he would follow me outside. But corners of hearts are dangerous. That’s where we hide the wants we shouldn’t have.
“If things were different, I’d more than like you.”
My head shakes as I begin my rebuttal. “Nash, I?—”
“You don’t have to say anything. I already know. That’s why I’m putting my hands in my pockets and walking away. I just wanted to say it out loud one time. I like you so much.” His shoulders lift, and his next words come out on a laugh. “I guess I said it twice.”
“I…I can’t?—”
“Goodnight, Sadie.” In one goodbye, he ends our conversation and walks past me down the sidewalk, calling over his shoulder. “Have a good Thanksgiving.”
I stand speechless, watching him walk away until I can’t see the outline of his body any longer.