66
Sadie
“Was that Parker?” Mark said, flabbergasted, as Parker and his youngest brother, Davy, scooted past us.
I looked in my glass. “What did they put in here?” I peered out the window and spotted a familiar beat-up pickup that looked out of place among the luxury sedans sitting in rush hour traffic.
“Oh my god,” I said.Oh my god.Parker was stalking me. That bastard.
“Do you want me to beat him up?”
“No need,” I said, jumping up and running toward the door.
“You need to pay,” the hostess said.
“I’ll get it,” Mark said behind me.
I kept going.
“Sadie!” Parker yelled behind me. “Sadie, wait!” He caught me easily as I flung the door to the restaurant open. “Sadie, don’t run, just hear me out,” Parker pleaded.
I pursed my mouth. “You came here to intimidate me! What kind of sick crap is that?”
He winced. “I know this looks bad…”
“It’s creepy and weird. You came here to harass me while I’m on a date.”
“You did that to me,” he said, smiling crookedly. “And you threw food all over me.”
“Don’t you dare call me hysterical,” I warned.
“Sadie, I’m the hysterical one. I’ve been lost without you. I love you. I would never sell you to a cult. I know you were offered a very nice job at the Holbrook Foundation. I’m not here to beg you to uproot your life for me. But I just want another chance; I need another chance. I can’t live without you. I’ll take whatever I can get. I can move here or come see you on the weekends.”
I did want to take him back. But…should I?
Parker saw my hesitation. “I swear it wasn’t stalking—I have presents, nice ones.” He signaled to the pickup truck. A giant plant opened the door and got out of the vehicle.
“What the—oh, hello, Hunter.”
Parker’s brother handed the four-foot-tall bouquet to Parker, who presented it to me.
“For you.”
“What on earth?”
“And that’s not all. I also brought gifts locally sourced from Harrogate.” A large wooden boxthunkedon the pavement in front of me.
“This is all very—”
“And as a final surprise,” Parker said, “can we have a drumroll, please?”
Hunter looked concerned. A black sports car peeled through traffic and screeched to a halt in front of the pickup truck. Greg Svensson jumped out of the car, a thick manila folder in his hand.
“Sadie, good evening.” He looked around. “Good, you didn’t show her Bob.”
“Who’s Bob?” I asked.
“Never mind,” Greg said. “Listen. Clearly my little brother is an idiot. I know the Holbrook Foundation is going to make you an offer, but we’re making you an even more generous one. Come run the Rural Trust. I have the proposed salary here.” He opened the packet and showed me the papers. “Additionally, I can make sure that you never have to see Parker again. We’ll send him to Rhode Island with the rest of the Svensson rejects.”
