Page 42 of Love is a Game

“You said it’s not the job you want,” he countered. “And frankly, given what I’ve heard from your family, it might not be as easy as you think to get out of the position you’re in right now.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Andrew raised his hands between them, looking at her as if the answer were obvious. “I’m just saying, if your boss is so dependent on you, he’s probably not going to pave the way for you to leave him.”

Sadie’s eyes widened in anger. “What do you even know about my life?” she demanded. “You think that the gossip my mom shares with her friends is an accurate depiction of my job? That because you’re buddy-buddy with my brother-in-law, you know what’s good for me?”

“Sadie, come on. I only meant—” he began, but she cut him off.

“I don’t know why I thought I could confide in you.” She rubbed a hand against her forehead, trying to ease the pressure she suddenly felt there. “I am so tired of having to defend myself. I have a good job with a good company, and I worked so hard to get where I am. Meanwhile, my sister spends all of her time playing with paint and string and everyone praises her for it!”

“Well, maybe that’s because she seems a lot happier than you do,” Andrew shot back.

She clenched her jaw and glared at him. “Maybe I just seem unhappy because I have to put up with you.”

Before he could say anything else, she pushed past him and started up the beach. She heard his frustrated sigh behind her, and then he called out, “Sadie, wait!”

“Don’t follow me,” she shouted back.

A hard, angry knot clenched her stomach as she made her way, barefoot, back to the road.

Chapter Fourteen

Andrew didn’t see Sadie for three days. Every time someone came into the library he would look up, hoping to see her walk through the doors and then feel the sting of disappointment when she didn’t. Twice on his way home he made an excuse to drive down her street, but her car wasn’t in the driveway. He was beginning to worry she had left town for good, but then he’d kick himself for thinking he could have that much of an impact on her.

He could no longer deny that he had feelings for her, even though it still felt impossible. Sadie Connor, the thorn in his side for all of grade school, had somehow come to dominate his thoughts. He craved her company like some kind of addict, and his mind was filled with the sound of her voice. When he’d walked past the office on Monday and saw her crying, his heart had dropped and he was ready to do whatever it took to make her feel better. If only he had kept his big mouth shut.

On his way to work Friday morning, he drove past Camille Connor in her little gold sedan. She was driving away from her house, which meant if Sadie was at home, she would be there alone. Without thinking, he turned at the next corner and headed back to the Connors’ street. He had to at least check.

His eyes found her car as soon as he turned onto her block and it made his heart race. This was his chance to make things right. Or to make them worse. One way or the other, he had to see her again.

He parked in front of her house and grabbed the piece of printer paper he’d been carrying around for the last couple of days, off the dashboard. He tucked it into his back pocket as he walked up to the house and knocked. He heard footsteps approach the door but it didn’t open right away. Would she even answer once she saw him through the peephole?

“Sadie?” He leaned close to the house, hoping she would hear him. “I know you’re in there.”

To his relief, he heard a lock turn, and then she opened the door. The sight of her in pajamas caught him off guard, and he took a step back. He’d come to appreciate the pencil skirts and tailored slacks she wore to the library, but her baggy sweater and flannel pants looked so soft, an image of the two of them curled up beside each other on the couch filled his mind, unbidden. He coughed, trying to clear it away.

She didn’t look happy to see him. “What are you doing here?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“I don’t think there’s anything we need to talk about.”

She started to close the door but he held up a hand. “Wait, please. I thought you might not be eager to see me again, so I brought a peace offering.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the folded piece of paper. She hesitated, narrowing her eyes at him, and then took it from his outstretched hand.

“What is this?” she asked, scanning the page, “I have overdue library fines?”

“Had,” he corrected, pointing to the zero balance on the bottom. “They’re all forgiven. You’ve got to be careful; that interest can really stack up over the years.”

“I can see that. You know I can afford to pay this off. You should have just sent me a bill,” she said, irritated.

“I know that. I didn’t mean . . .” He pursed his lips, and frustrated, ran a hand through his hair. This wasn’t going the way he had hoped. The library fines were supposed to lighten the mood, maybe get a laugh out of her.

That had been his mistake. She didn’t want jokes.

He drew in a breath and started again. “I’m sorry. That’s what I came here to say. I was pushy and insensitive and I’m really sorry that I upset you.”