She doesn’t respond. Just sits there, staring at the half-packed boxes, tears sliding down her face onto my shirt.
And I sit with her in silence, because that’s what you do for the people you love.
You show up. Especially when they can’t ask you to.
My phone buzzes. I take it out of my pocket and glance at the screen.
Isabel:Judith just posted again. Calling for a discussion at the next town meeting to “fix the situation.” This is getting worse.
“Mierda.“ Of course, Judith’s not done. She’s just getting started.
Sadie looks up at me with a sigh.
“What now?” She asks, voice resigned.
“It’s nothing—“
“Mateo.” She holds out her hand. “Let me see.”
“You don’t need to—“
“I need to know what I’m dealing with.” Her jaw sets. “Show me.”
I hesitate, then hand her my phone. She reads Isabel’s text, and I watch her face go carefully blank. The same expression she wore when Owen used to criticize her. The one I imagine she used when her family called her work pornography. A practiced neutrality that means she’s barely holding it together.
“A town meeting,” she says flatly. “To discuss me. Like I’m some kind of town crisis that needs to be handled.”
“Judith’s just trying to stir up drama—“
“And it’s working!” She hands my phone back, stands, and paces. “How many people do you think will show up? Fifty? A hundred? All of them ready to tell me how I’ve disrespected Sierra Rose Ridge by writing a romance novel?”
“You don’t have to go.”
“Don’t I?” Her laugh is bitter. “If I don’t show up, they’ll just tear me apart without me there to defend myself. And if I do show up...” She trails off, staring at the boxes again.
This is it. This is the moment she decides to run.
“When’s the next town hall?” she asks quietly.
“End of the month.”
“So what, that’s like two and a half weeks? Not even.” She closes her eyes. “Two weeks to decide if I’m staying or running.”
Please stay.
But this has to be her choice.
“Two weeks,” I agree. “You’ve got time.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then takes a shaky breath.
“Okay.” She wipes her eyes. “What are my options? If I stay, what does that actually look like?”
The weight in my chest lessens a little. She’s asking for options. She’s asking me to help her think through whether to stay.
That’s something.
“Well,” I start, “you could go to the meeting. Face Judith head-on, make your case in front of everyone. Or you could skip it entirely, let them talk themselves out until they all fall asleep from lack of air, and just keep running your shop like nothing happened.”
