Promise Me (Asher Family #1)

Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

SADIE

I’m losing my mind.

I can almost laugh at that saying because I actually did lose mine.

But now it’s back, and it’s a lot to pack in.

I roll to my side and pull my comforter all the way to my chin. This has pretty much been my spot for the last three days. The only times I’ve left were to find food. My dad has checked on me a few times a day, but my answer is always the same when he asks me how I’m doing.

Fine.

Just one word.

At this point, I’m sure he thinks I’m crazy. I’m more distraught over my memory coming back than I was over losing it. Yes, not remembering my mother’s funeral sucked, but Hudson made it special for me. He didn’t force me to just move past it—he let me go on as if my life just picked up where I left off three years ago.

That means something to me, and I’m not sure how to cope with all of it .

Silent tears start to fall, the way they have at random moments since it all came back to me. I can remember us in Mrs. Whittaker’s space and arguing just as clearly as I can remember waking up in Hudson’s arms a few days ago to find him watching me. I can remember the way he kissed me good morning and held me and the way he rolled me to my back and showed me how much he cares about me.

I swipe the tears away the best I can.

The emotions I have for him are so overwhelming that I don't know where to start processing first. And the worst part is, I want to call him and get his help. He’s the one I want to run to right now, but … I don’t know what to do.

I inhale and then sit up.

I cannot keep crying over this.

A knock sounds at my door, and like clockwork, my dad pokes his head in.

“Hey, hun, how are you?”

“Fi—” I start to say but stop myself. “Why did you let me keep working at the bakery?”

My question catches him off guard, but he nods and sits on the corner of my bed. This topic is long overdue, but now is as good a time as any.

“You said you wanted it, and for a time, I think you did. But no matter how many times I could see that it wasn’t what you wanted anymore, you held your head high and said that it was.”

“Oh.”

“You know,” he goes on, “if you still want to sell it to Brooke, even knowing everything you know now, I think you should.”

My next breath hitches, and the tears start again. “But I made it this far just fine. I can’t just sell it and erase Mom’s biggest memory. The thing she loved most.”

Dad grins and shakes his head. “What she loved most was you and your brother, and if you want me to be brutally honest, she’d have my hide if she knew I let you keep that place this long knowing it wasn’t your dream.”

I huff.

“Yeah, well, Hudson took that dream and then he took my next one too.”

“I see,” Dad says and looks out the window. His lips twist as he prepares to say more.

“Just spit it out, Dad.”

“I don’t believe that Hudson took your dream. He took the space, which if we want to get technical, you didn’t file the paperwork on time the first go-around anyway and the building sold to him. That’s life, sweetheart, not Hudson.”

“Okay, then explain why he never told me about the two of us wanting Mrs. Whittaker’s place, huh? He intentionally didn’t tell me about it.”

“Did you ask him why?”

“I did.”

“And what was his answer?”

“That the way I talked about Sips and Stories versus how I talked about the bakery were not the same, and he didn’t want me to question my dreams again. He didn't want me to miss out on getting what I wanted in life.”

The old Hudson would have never said that and meant it. The new Hudson would, but I just don’t know how to forget the old one. I’ve known that one the longest.

“So what’s the problem? It sounds an awful lot like why I didn’t tell you that you wanted it or why Linc never mentioned it, either.”

“You both knew?” I snap.

“We did, yes, so did Brooke, but buying a new business was the last thing you needed to worry about. You’d made it very clear you wanted to do this your own way, and we did our best to respect that. You can’t be mad at anyone over this one.”

“But I can, Dad. Especially with Hudson.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s different with him. We were … more, and he didn’t think I was strong enough to make that choice on my own. That sounds a lot like the old Hudson.” I blow out a breath. “The new Hudson would have trusted me and told me to go after what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“To own my own business that I build, to live on my own and create my own home, to go after a life that no one chose but me.”

The outburst takes me by surprise. The old me would have never responded like that. The old me would have just accepted what life had given her and maintained it.

Old.

New.

Old.

New.

What is wrong with me? I sound like I’m broken.

Like before, though, Dad is unfazed as he nods. “This is a good plan. I want to help.”

“Oh, Dad, you do not. You just don’t want to see me cry anymore.”

“You can stay here till the end of the month, but then you’re out.”

“What?”

“Sweetheart, I’m an old man, and my thirty-year-old daughter still lives with me. I’m ready to be on my own again.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“No. I’m making sure you pick yourself for once. That you pick what you want and not what others think you should pick. ”

“Oh.” Great, he spit my own words back at me.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I sense that’s what Hudson was trying to do in his own way.”

I groan.

“You need to talk to him.”

“I know, but it’s weird. I’m not sure which version of me wants to talk to him. Part of me wants to yell at him for how he handled things, and the other … well, he’s the one I want to vent to about all this.”

Dad nods slowly.

“Stop nodding,” I scold with a laugh. “You’re supposed to advise me, not just agree with everything that comes out of my mouth.”

“You know which side you really want. So my advice would be meaningless.”

“But what if I pick the wrong one?”

“You won’t because you already know what you want.”

“But what if?—”

“Sadie,” he pushes off the bed to stand, “you’ve got this, but it isn’t going to happen by sitting in this room.”

I don’t know what will happen next, but I do know that even though I keep saying there is an old Hudson and new Hudson, the fact is, the old Hudson is just that—old. I can sit here telling myself I don’t believe that, but I do.

The other thing I know? I miss the heck out of Hudson Asher, and the two of us need to talk. He may have confessed that he didn’t want me to forget my dream. Fine. I get it. But he still bought the space out from under me. I’m not okay with that. There has to be something I’m missing.

I’m just not so sure I’m ready for the answer.

By lunch, I’m stepping into the bakery’s kitchen, headed for the office.

“Sadie!” Brooke beams as she spots me. “What are you doing here?”

I don’t answer right away. Instead, I wrap my arms around my best friend.

She hugs me back, tight.

I finally step back. “I still want to sell this place to you.”

“You do?” Her lips twist as if she’s unsure what else to ask me.

I nod. “My dad reminded me this morning that Mom wouldn’t want me to stay here if I didn’t love it. She’d want me to sell it to someone who would put their heart and soul into it, and that person is still you.”

She sticks her bottom lip out and then fans her face.

“I’m going to make you both proud.”

“I know you will, but until we make this official, I have some things to do with the books.”

I grab the laptop from the office, plate up a pastry, make an iced coffee, and then sit where Bartley, Marty, and Phil normally sit.

There are still booths on Main Street from our last street festival. Between working here for the afternoon and working myself up to go to Hudson, people-watching will be a great distraction.

I turn my computer on and get about fifteen minutes of work done before I see Luca pull up in his truck. He hops out, a man I don’t recognize with him. He’s huge though—broad shoulders, maybe six feet tall, and shaggy hair.

He looks familiar.

They both go straight for the door to Mrs. Whittaker’s space-— or well, now Hudson’s, and my curiosity turns to anger in a flash .

Buying that place while knowing I wanted it was cruel. Like Hudson never changed. I feel so stupid and yet, ugh, I want to know why. Why would he go through everything in the last month with me just to screw me over, again?

I don’t get much time to think it over before Miles steps into the bakery.

He looks around and as soon as he spots me, his lips split into a grin.

“Just the woman I was looking for.” He struts toward me.

He sets a folded piece of paper on the table, taps it, and then shoves his hands in his pockets.

“What’s that?”

“It’s for you.”

“Obviously.” I grin.

I don’t move to grab it, and he says, “Read it so I can leave.”

He glances at Brooke, who quickly looks away as if she weren’t watching us.

I open the note. All it says is Marriage of Convenience Margarita.

I read it again and then flip it over as if there’s more information on the backside.

“I don’t get it.”

“Me either, but if you want answers, Hudson is next door.”

At that, he turns and walks out.