“Yeah,” I whispered. “Okay. Fair enough.”

They say people come into your life for a reason. Maybe Sadie and I were meant to meet because her personal experience mirrored ours. I’d never encountered anyone who quite understood our situation like she did. Talking to her definitely brought me a lot of comfort, made me feel less alone. That was a first since Amanda died.

“Birdie knows how hard you try and how much you love her. And she can also sense when you’re down.”

“I’m starting to realize that more and more.”

Sadie flashed a sympathetic smile. “When my dad was diagnosed with cancer, I—”

“Wait . . . your father had cancer, too?” I hadn’t meant to interrupt her. But that was pretty shocking to hear.

“Yeah. My dad was diagnosed with colon cancer when I was a teenager. Can you believe that? He’s in remission now, thank God.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t imagine how scary that must have been for you . . . and for him.”

“It really was. It tested my faith big-time. I didn’t understand how that could be happening to me twice. But I tried my best not to dwell on the woe is me aspect. He needed every bit of strength I had to help him get through it, not only mentally but physically. So the self-pity had to wait. It was a few years of touch and go. When he finally did make it through, I, of course, felt like I dodged a bullet. And it’s made me even more grateful for him.”

Her attitude blew me away. “Wow. You were really surrounded by cancer growing up.”

“I was. So much so that at one point, I went and got genetic testing done because I was certain I was destined to have it, too. Which is absurd.”

“I don’t think it’s so strange. A lot of cancers are genetic. Sounds like you made a mature decision to get tested.”

“Umm. Did I mention that I’m adopted?” She laughed. “I understood that I didn’t have the same genes as my mom and dad. Yet I was convinced that I had it, too. Still think it’s not so strange?”

I smiled. “Alright. So I guess that does change things a bit.”

“Yeah. My mom couldn’t have children. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer the first time at twenty-three. They tried for years after she went into remission, but the chemo did a lot of damage.”

“It’s amazing . . . how your situation mirrors ours. My wife and I struggled to get pregnant as well and went the route of getting fertility help.”

“Oh wow. That’s crazy. But I guess that’s another reason why Birdie and I connected so easily. We’re both extra special because our parents had to work that much harder to have us.”

I smiled. “Anyway, I’m sorry if I got us off on a depressing tangent there for a little while. But I really appreciate the insight. It’s been four years since Amanda died, but the solo-parenting thing still feels like uncharted territory every single day.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, contemplating what my life had become. Then I opened them and spoke in somewhat of a daze. “You spend your youth trying to make something of yourself, feeling invincible, running on adrenaline. Finally fall into a career, have a family . . . everything’s perfect, right? Then, when something like cancer enters the picture when your life has barely even started, it knocks the wind out of you. But it’s too much to fathom. The only way I handled her being sick was to pretend it wasn’t happening. Telling myself and her that everything was going to be fine. You go through the motions of each day, trying to be strong for everyone. It’s like a constant state of numbness. And it has to be. Because feeling what was happening wasn’t an option. Even when she died, I was still numb. It doesn’t hit you, really, until some random time. You know, long after the people stop coming over and bringing food. I woke up one random morning. The TODAY show was on. It was just a regular morning for most. But that was the day it just hit me that my life as I knew it was really over. Or at least it felt that way. But it really couldn’t be over, right? Because I had to keep going somehow . . . for Birdie. So you start to push again, building a new life from the ground up, still trying not to really feel anything too much, because that might throw your progress off track.” I rubbed my eyes and sighed. “Anyway, it’s a strange existence sometimes.”

Jesus. I really had taken us somewhere depressing.

Her eyes were piercing. She looked like she might cry. I hoped to hell she wouldn’t. I couldn’t have handled that.

“I felt every word you just said, Sebastian. Every word. I’ve obviously never lost a spouse, but I watched my dad go through it. And I understand firsthand that feeling of going through the motions. I really do.”

I downed the last of my lukewarm tea, wishing it were scotch, and placed the empty cup down. “What a fucking downer this tea turned out to be. I bet you’re wishing you were back with Bathroom Boy right about now.”

“God, no.” She sighed. “Do you know how rare it is to have a deep, adult conversation that I can relate to?”

“I certainly didn’t plan to ambush you with that.”

“Anytime you want to talk. Honestly. I’m happy to listen.” She winked. “But you might get an earful from me, too. That’s the risk.”

“Alright. Thanks.”

Sadie tilted her head and studied me quietly. She seemed to be debating something she might want to say.

“Can I ask you something?” she eventually said.

“Pretty sure I owe you an answer to anything you want after what I just asked you to answer.”

A giant grin spread across her face. “Good. If you were watching a naked woman dance, would you rather she danced to Sir Mix-a-Lot or Lewis Capaldi?”

I chuckled. “You’re an interesting woman, Sadie. That is definitely not a question I could have anticipated you asking right now.”

“Is that a bad or good thing?”

My eyes looked back and forth between her eyes. “It’s a very good thing. And I really like big butts.”

It took her a second to realize what I’d meant. I had no idea why she’d asked the question, but the smile on her face told me I’d picked the right answer, and I liked that a whole lot.

We ended up busting out Birdie’s cookies and talking some more. She told me a little about her childhood upstate, about her dad’s funny weather instruments, and asked me some questions about the restaurant business, which of course I could’ve talked about all night. We spoke about her career. Sadie told me while she didn’t foresee leaving the magazine, she hoped to move away from the dating column eventually to try something new. The conversation with her was just . . . easy.

And it had felt good to unload, too. But now that I’d snapped out of my fleeting emotional stupor from earlier, I was back to staring at her lips while she spoke. That felt wrong for so many reasons. If it were just a physical attraction, maybe I could have justified it. But there was a pang in my chest right now that I didn’t want to feel. That I couldn’t feel.

And here comes closed-off Sebastian in three, two, one . . .

My chair skidded against the floor as I slid it back. “Well, I don’t want to keep you.”

She looked surprised by my sudden hint that it might be time for her to leave. She’d seemed so comfortable. Just like I’d felt before that realization hit. I was comfortable. Too comfortable.