Happily Letter After(57)

By ten thirty, I was still sitting on the couch but now bobbing my knee up and down, feeling like I might jump out of my skin. I hadn’t heard from Sebastian again. On the phone, he’d said an hour or two, so hopefully that meant he’d be here any minute. Deciding I needed to calm down, I went in search of wine in his office.

I knew where the key was kept, because I’d watched Macie raid the locked cabinet last weekend. But when I went to grab it from the desk drawer, a framed picture snagged my attention. I picked it up and stared at a photo of Sebastian and Amanda. It had been taken in the hospital. Sebastian had one arm around his wife’s shoulder while she cradled a newborn Birdie. They were both smiling and looked so happy.

Was this how it would be if we were together anyway? Framed photos of his first love all over the house? Living in the shadow of another woman? How exactly would that work if he got married again? Would the photo of his new bride slide into the frame right over the one from his first wedding? Maybe him dumping me tonight was for the best.

Yeah, definitely for the best.

“She was born three weeks early.”

Sebastian’s deep voice startled me and I jumped. Unfortunately, the frame slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor, landing facedown with a loud clank.

The hand that had been holding the frame flew up and covered my heart. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.”

Nervous, I bent to pick up the frame. I felt nauseous when I turned it over.

Cracked. The glass was cracked.

I shook my head. “God, I’m so sorry. It’s broken. I’ll replace it.”

Sebastian walked toward me and slipped it from my hand. “It’s fine. No big deal.” He set the frame facedown on his desk and our eyes caught. “Sorry I’m so late.”

“I wasn’t snooping. I just came in to see if you had any wine and . . . I guess the photo caught my attention.”

Sebastian nodded. He walked around to where I stood and pulled open the drawer. Taking out the key, he unlocked the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of red wine. He tilted it to show me the label. “This okay?”

“Does it have alcohol?”

He chuckled. “Got ya. Fill your glass to the brim.”

“Thank you.”

Sebastian uncorked the bottle and filled one glass, then stuffed the cork back in.

“Aren’t you having any?” I said.

He handed me the very full glass. “Maybe later. I need to keep my head clear right now.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Come on. Let’s go sit in the living room.”

Together we sat on the couch. While I sipped my wine and waited, Sebastian held his head in his hands and stared down at the floor. It made my heart hurt that he looked as pained as I felt. The man had been through so much; I needed to make this easy for him. So I took a giant gulp of liquid courage and set my glass down on the end table before moving closer to him.

“Sebastian . . . it’s okay. I get it. You don’t have to say anything. We had fun, but you don’t want more than that. It’s fine. You don’t have to feel bad.”

“Is that what you think? That I feel bad because I’m done with you?”

My brows drew together. “Isn’t that what you’re stressing over? Hurting my feelings?”

He started to laugh maniacally. Shaking his head, he pointed to the glass I’d just set down. “Give me that, will ya?”

I handed it to him and watched as he downed the entire contents of my glass. Offering it back, he said, “Fuck a clear head. I just need some balls.”

Was he saying what I thought he was saying? I fought to not let my hopes get up. “I don’t understand.”

He raked his hands through his hair and turned to face me. “How was your date tonight, Sadie?” He’d said the word “date” weird, almost spitting out the “t,” as if the word itself sickened him.

“It was . . . fine.”

“Well, I’m glad. Then at least one of us had a good evening.”

“You didn’t have a good night?”

“Let’s see . . . I broke the handle off an oven, burned my arm twice, put in three orders wrong, and almost fired a waitress who did nothing wrong. And that was all before six o’clock.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I couldn’t focus, Sadie. The thought of you going out with another man—no less a half dozen men while speed dating—makes me feel violent.”

“It was eight actually.”

He scoffed. “Thanks. That makes me feel a hell of a lot better.”

I’d been so certain that he was coming home to break things off that even though he’d just told me he hated the thought of me dating anyone else, I still guarded my heart.

“If you didn’t want me to go, why didn’t you tell me that? Or better yet, why didn’t you even call me this week?”

“Because I feel like I’m not supposed to want another woman all to myself.”

I swallowed. “But you do? You want me like that?”

Sebastian looked into my eyes. “I want you in every way, Sadie. And that scares the shit out of me.”

I smiled sadly. “If it makes you feel any better, you scare me, too.”