Like someone cut the music.
Tony stops dealing. Mark’s grin fades. Jake’s eyebrows lift.
“Dude,” Mark says slowly. “That’s not nothing.”
“What if she’s married?” Jake says.
“Or engaged,” Tony adds.
“Or is with some European businessman,” Mark says. “And you’re the side piece.”
My stomach tightens.
“I don’t think?—”
Tony raises a hand. “I’m not saying she is. I’m saying… be careful.”
The cards move again, but the rhythm’s off now. The jokes don’t land the same.
I still have fun. Mostly.
But the thought sticks.
She hasn’t stepped into this part of my life.
Not because she can’t.
Because she hasn’t.
When the game breaks up and I ride the elevator down alone, I pull out my BlackBerry.
No new messages.
I email her anyway.
Me:
Home soon. Miss you.
For the first time since we met, I don’t wonder what she’s hiding.
I wonder what she’s protecting.
It’s almost two in the morning when I turn onto my block.
The street is quiet, late-summer quiet, the kind that feels borrowed. Then I see her.
Sage is sitting on the bottom step of my stoop, knees pulled in, arms wrapped tight. Hair twisted up and falling loose. Bare feet on stone.
Her eyes are red.
“Hey,” she says, voice raw.
I sit beside her without a word, pull her into me. She folds instantly, face pressed into my chest like she’s been holding it together all night and finally ran out.
“I didn’t want to sleep without you,” she whispers.
We sit there, quiet, my hand moving slow on her back.
