Romance Me (Boxed Set)

by Susan Hatler

  For the first time in his life, he truly felt the heavy burden of regret for the decision he’d made so many years ago. He wanted to give Sadie more—he wanted to give her him. And selfishly, he wanted to give himself Sadie.

  “She mumbled something else,” Theo said, “about how you have a secret but it’s not hers to share. I pried, but she wouldn’t say a word—only that it’s something you think makes you unable to be in a relationship.”

  Ethan nodded.

  After a moment, Theo elbowed him. “That was your opening—you’re supposed to come back with something like, ‘Yeah, Theo, I fathered an illegitimate baby,’ or ‘I’m secretly married,’ or ‘I’m impotent,’ not just sit there in silence.” He paused. “You know, you never did seem to be the playboy type. It makes sense if there’s some deep, dark secret lurking in your past, keeping you from commitment.”

  Ethan knew Theo wanted answers. He’d carried all this alone for so long—not even Lia really understood how bad things had been for their mom. Somehow telling Sadie about it released some of the tension he felt around his mom’s condition. And her response made him feel less ashamed and afraid.

  “You’re right—it is a deep, dark secret.” Ethan paused for a moment before continuing. “I never told you guys what was wrong with my mom before she died.” He fell silent again, listening to the sweet evening hum.

  The sound and scent of the night brought a bittersweet feeling in the pit of Ethan’s stomach. He would miss living here, among the crickets and frogs, and his family and friends. He knew a rival theater company in San Francisco had contacted his former agent the other day, wondering if he’d be interested in working for them. If he took the job, he would only be four hours from Lia—close enough to have her come visit, but far enough away from Sadie. He hoped the distance apart could clear his mind of her.

  But first he needed to explain to Theo why he’d chosen to break Sadie’s heart. Why he had to make such a wretched decision.

  He cleared his throat, then set about explaining to Theo about his mother’s OCD. His father’s abuse. And the ultimate sacrifice his mother had made. After he finished, Theo sat quietly, thumbing the label on his beer, staring into the dark of the night.

  Finally, Theo took a long draw off his bottle. “So your mom had OCD. What’s that got to do with you breaking my sister’s heart?”

  Ethan hadn’t wanted this. He didn’t intend to break her heart, or hurt his friend. He would have rather inherited his mom’s small stature or weak heart. But not this—never this.

  “It’s hereditary. I think see some of the signs already. And as I told Sadie, I’ll never put anyone through what my family went through.”

  Theo nudged his foot on the porch boards, rocking the porch swing forward and back. The creaks of the swing mixed with the sounds of the nighttime symphony. “What makes you think you’re starting to have OCD?”

  Ethan shrugged. “I’m getting obsessive thoughts running through my head. The same word repeats itself in my head, non-stop, like a record with the needle stuck in a groove. I have the same images haunting me, like my brain is carrying them around and won’t let go.”

  “What’s the word being repeated? The images?” Theo asked.

  Ethan shrugged, but remained silent.

  “Is it a person or a thing that’s got your mind all wrapped up?”

  “A person.” Somehow the words had slipped out of his mouth before he could censor his answer.

  The swing whipped sideways when Theo stood up, bringing a light wave of nausea to Ethan’s stomach. Theo paced the porch, turned, and faced Ethan. “And I’ll bet anything that this person you’re obsessing over is Sadie.”

  At Ethan’s nod, Theo rolled his eyes. “Dude, you’re an idiot.”

  Ethan glared. Some friend. Here he’d just bared his deepest, darkest secret and Theo was calling him an idiot.

  Theo stood there, silent, staring at Ethan. He shook his head twice, as if in amazement. “That’s not OCD, you brainless jerk. That’s love.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next week passed by, slow and painful, dragged on by the tension between Ethan and Sadie and exacerbated by the oppressive heat enveloping the town. Ethan stayed out of Sadie’s way, although with the open office environment he couldn’t help but to see her almost constantly.

  On this day she’d worn an emerald-green halter dress. It was one of those wrap-around dresses, Ethan realized when she’d sat down on the couch and crossed one leg over the other. The skirt slid off her knee to her upper thigh, almost exposing her panties. Ethan felt a lunge in his loins at the sight. After Friday, his body ached for her even more than before.

  He’d been surprised by Sadie’s reaction on Monday, when they both had a couple of days to cool down. He’d expected anger, tears, or for her to convince him to stay. Sadie surprised him by arriving at work Monday with the same dynamism, cheerfulness, and spunky attitude as usual. Her only reference to the resignation letter he’d left on her desk was to send him an email stating she would present his letter to the board at the end of the month.

  Ethan promised Sadie he would find his own replacement, but so far hadn’t found anyone satisfactory. After making numerous phone calls and sending hundreds of emails, he was surprised at the lack of response. A few people had contacted him, but they were without the experience or name draw the festival needed. No wonder Sadie had jumped at the chance to have him fill the vacancy—no one else was out there to take it.

  Sadie was busy on a project of her own. Whatever it was, she kept it under wraps: lowering her voice on the telephone, switching off her computer screen when Ethan entered her office space, and even standing by the shared printer to grab print-outs before he could sneak a peek. He was curious, but he’d lost all right to knowing what was going on—with Sadie or with the festival. Ethan’s job at this point was simply to tie up loose ends.

  “Hey Ethan,” Sadie called from the conference area, motioning for him to come. She sat on the couch with her face buried in a report folder and her legs crossed tailor-style, the wrap skirt draped wide—almost to the apex of her thighs.

  Ethan sat down beside her. His arms stuck to the leather of the couch, glued there by perspiration and heat. A faint scent rose up from her—lavender—and he leaned closer to draw in a deeper breath.

  “Are you smelling my hair?”

  Ethan forced a wry grin. “I can’t help it. You smell good.”

  “Keep your nostrils away, would you? You’re getting on my very last nerve. Now focus. I need to tell you something.” The words she spoke were harsh, but she said them with a playful tone.

  He knew he shouldn’t be teasing her like this, not after what he’d put her through, but she looked so sexy-cute with her legs crossed under her. “I’m listening.”

  Sadie sat silent for a while, seemingly gathering her thoughts. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and steady. “I know you’re not leaving because you messed up with the special project. Your decision has to do with something much bigger.”

  Good God, Ethan thought. Theo and Sadie were either mind readers or he’d been completely transparent.

  “I realize you’re worried about becoming a severe obsessive-compulsive like your mom and that’s why you chase away any woman who gets close. But I’ve done my own research, and I don’t see any signs of it in you. I know”—she broke off when he tried to speak, shushing him with a finger on his lips—“I know it’s hereditary, I know you could someday have it as severe as your mom. But I also know that only in your mind does this mean you can’t have a relationship.”

  Her finger brushing against his lips distracted him for a moment. He watched her jaw clench, her mouth thin.

  With a shake of her head, Sadie resumed speaking. “Why do you think everyone else would be destroyed by the effects of this illness just because your dad was? Did you ever stop to think that he was a weak man? That he may have been an alcoholic before your mom’s illness got worse?” />
  Ethan shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sadie—”

  She placed her hand on his thigh, cutting him off by her action. Biting the side of her lip, she stared straight ahead, waiting a moment before speaking again. “Your dad wasn’t strong—maybe he didn’t even know how to love. It sounds like he blamed your mom for something she couldn’t help—and that he used her illness as an excuse to drink. But just because your dad was a failure at loving a person with OCD doesn’t mean that everyone else will be. You’ve allowed others to be close, to lean on you—your sister for one, Theo and Jack, also. Why won’t you let in a woman, someone who loves you? Why won’t you allow yourself to love?”

  He looked down at his feet. He didn’t want to hear this—didn’t want her to try to talk him into something he’d talked himself out of a long time ago.

  “This hasn’t been an easy decision for me.” He paused. “At least, it had been up until I slept with you. Walking away from you is the toughest thing I’ve ever done.”

  Sadie blew out a breath of air. “The walking away part, Ethan, that’s your choice. I want you here, but I’m not going to twist your arm to make you stay. But I want you to hear me out, at least. Will you do that for me?”

  He watched her face grow dewy from the heat. The humidity had done a number on her hair. Today it was close to how it looked when she was a kid—wild, puffy, a halo around her head. Beautiful. God, leaving her would create a hole in his heart he knew he’d never be able to fill.

  He reached for her hand, held it, studying the faint veins. “Yes, I’ll listen,” he said.

  Sadie jutted out her jaw. “For the first time ever I feel loved by someone other than my brother or my two best friends. I feel admired, respected, and cared for, like I’m held in your heart. I see myself through your eyes—a competent, intelligent, and yes, beautiful woman. I can look in the mirror and see who you see, not an ugly, skinny, dumb kid.”

  She spoke passionately, moving him, forcing him to look beyond the walls he’d built. Ethan wanted to speak, wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how beautiful she’d always had been, but she plunged on.

  “I can tell you,” she said, “that if you did have OCD and were with someone who truly loved you, they’d just set their clock ahead so you wouldn’t be late going to the movies if you had to count to one hundred before opening the door. They’d keep hand sanitizer in their purse, and would leave rulers strategically placed around the house so you could measure the lengths of the blinds.”

  He sat stunned by what she’d said. He’d never thought about someone else compensating.

  “From the little I know of OCD,” she continued quickly, “I don’t think you have it. But even if you did, I love you enough, value you enough, and think highly enough of you that I’d risk all to be with you. And if that means I’d have to get a bigger purse to carry around hand sanitizer and a ruler, I’d do it.”

  Ethan knew he was squeezing her hand too tight, but he felt frozen. Sadie didn’t know what she was saying, couldn’t understand what she offered. “I know you think that now,” he said. With his throat constricted, it was difficult to get the words out. “But if it starts happening, you’ll feel differently. I won’t risk putting you through that.”

  “Don’t think for me, Ethan. Don’t decide for me which risks I’m going to take. Don’t you dare tell me what I’m capable of handling.” She reached over and grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes to hers. “You told me once to believe in myself, but it’s hard to take advice from someone who won’t believe in his own value as a person—flawed or perfect. But I did listen to you. I did take your advice.”

  Her fingers stroked his temple, easing the wrinkle between his brows. “I looked to you to save me when the festival was floundering. Because you taught me to believe in myself, this time I looked to myself to solve the problem.”

  Sadie stood. She handed him the folder she’d been looking at a few moments before. “This is for you. If you change your mind about leaving the directorship after you read this, let me know. If you’re still determined to ‘save’ me from a life I see as beautiful and you see as potentially flawed, there’s nothing I can do besides let you go. You leaving the festival, leaving me, isn’t what I want—by no means. But I want more to see you happy. I really, truly want to see you happy.”

  He watched her walk away, his chest squeezing tight, like iron gates closing over his heart. The muggy heat muffled the thud of the heavy door. When he realized he could still smell the lavender of her hair, he swore. It should never have been this way.

  ***

  It wasn’t until later that evening that Ethan read Sadie’s report. He’d finished a lonely meal of grilled salmon, salad, and steamed broccoli, and had settled down on his porch swing with a glass of California cabernet sauvignon and Sadie’s report.

  It didn’t take long to realize what she meant when she said that this time she’d saved herself. She’d done it—Sadie had solved the amphitheater problem. Ethan let out a sharp laugh, his smile growing wider by the second. He read further, engrossed in her plan, amazed at how clever she’d been in getting around the parking problem.

  There would be no parking at the site. It was that simple—no parking. A simple yet brilliant solution.

  Sadie had petitioned the local high school to allow use of its parking lot during the summer. People would park at the high school and get shuttled to the site in cushy tour buses. The local bus company had donated four shuttle runs each performance in return for free advertising.

  Ethan put the report down. He stared at the deep red liquid in his wine glass, turning it slowly, watching it catch the warm light spilling from his window. Sadie had done this—and in doing so, she’d kept alive the dream of Cameron and the others, Ethan included.

  He heard something—a slight sound breaking through the cacophony of crickets and frogs. The sound came again and again, and he listened until he realized what he heard were raindrops. The heat wave had broken. A light wind brushed by, cool, carrying the strong scent of wet grass and leaves. Ethan walked to the middle of the lawn, flung his arms open, and tilted his face to receive the cool, wet drops clearing the sky, clearing the earth. Clearing his mind.

  ***

  Sadie tried to gauge Ethan’s mood the following morning when he arrived at work. He didn’t look particularly happy, but he didn’t seem in a fury, either. Her stomach clenched. When Ethan came to stand in front of her, she felt like she would throw up. She’d been brave the day before, but somehow this morning fear had crept in.

  “I have a screenplay I want you to read.” Ethan tossed a thin script on her desk.

  She gritted her teeth. She’d bared her soul to him yesterday, all but proposed to him, and now all he could do was to toss scripts at her as if nothing had happened?

  “I’m busy,” she snapped out, looking back down at the other screenplays she’d been reading before he’d invaded her space.

  “I’d like you to read this one, though.”

  “I don’t have time. Put it at the bottom of this pile.” Sadie motioned to the stack, at least twenty high. Ethan could just bite her skinny hiney if he was going to order her around.

  Strike that, she thought. She shouldn’t think about Ethan biting her anywhere—it always got her all worked up, and that was the last thing she needed.

  “I really need you to read this now,” he replied.

  She sighed. Was this some new game he was playing? Ignore declarations of love and boss her around?

  “No.”

  “Damn it, Sadie! You are one hell of a twerp, you know that?” Ethan’s explosion caught her off guard. “Would you please just read the thing?”

  She could tell he was doing his best to calm himself down—his fingers were flying through his hair, twirling a lock on high speed. Her heart softened, and she snatched up the script. “Fine, I’ll read it, since it obviously means so much to you.” Setting herself down on the couch, she fanned the pages, realiz
ing there were only a few.

  “Who wrote this?” she asked.

  Ethan leaned against the credenza, facing her. “A new local playwright,” he mumbled.

  When she saw the title, Wrapped in a Box, she shot him a look. Ethan stared back, wearing an inscrutable expression. She flipped to the first page and began to read.

  It didn’t take long to finish. Once done, Sadie sat silent and immobile, every bone in her body frozen in place. Willing her eyes to work, she sought out Ethan. He stood in front of her, arms folded, ankles crossed, chin tucked to chest.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on one knee?” she asked.

  “Didn’t think I had to. Thought writing it was the equivalent.”

  Sadie hitched a breath. “There’s no ending written—the play stops after the main character asks his question.”

  He nodded. “I meant this to be a collaborative project. The ending is yours to write.”

  A sob began to build in her throat. “Can I write in a couple of kids?”

  Ethan let out a sharp laugh. “You can write in a white picket fence, for all I care. But not a golden retriever. I hate those dogs.”

  She hiccupped the sob away, then gazed long and hard at the script, watched a tear fall on it, running the ink. With precise motions, she stood and walked to Ethan, coming to a stop in front of him. “I hate them, too. So big and fluffy, with dumb expressions on their faces.”

  Reaching out, she ran a hand down Ethan’s face. He looked so perfect, a delicious mix of strength and vulnerability. She knew the work he’d done to reach this point, to be able to let go of the past and realize hope for the future. She grabbed him by the wrists, unwrapped his arms from their crossed position, and placed them around her waist, sinking into his embrace.

  “The ending only needs one word,” she whispered, nuzzling his neck.