Henri appeared to be listening, but not understanding, because he continued pleading his case. “So you won’t even give me a chance to make it right?”
It was wild. His hubris. Even though we’d been apart for years. Even though he’d had a baby with someone else. Even though I’d introduced him to my boyfriend. He just couldn’t wrap his head around not being in control.
“Henri, seriously, it’s been over a long time. Just go. Lose my number. Have a nice life or whatever.”
“Do you honestly believe that pony-tailed kid will be enough for you? That he can give you what you need?” Henri must have been sensing his defeat if he was acknowledging meeting Renn.
“Thatkidis twice the man you’ll ever be.”
Henri was still sputtering nonsense about how I needed to hear him out when I stood up and pushed past him toward the door. I was done. He didn’t merit one more nanosecond of my time or energy. As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, I looked back at him. “Don’t come here again. Don’t call. Don’t email. This should be the last time I see you.”
“Sadie—”
“Bye.”
Exhilaration raced through me as I walked to the parking lot. I supposed Henri coming in today of all days was a good thing. It had given me some much-needed perspective, and I wanted nothing more than to get to Renn, to tell him that—even though it was difficult between us right now—I knew the difference between him and my ex. Renn loved me the right way.
Chester’s was in Hollywood, about halfway between my apartment and Studio Obscurum. Gage usually played close to home, but today’s game was in Encino, closer to Westwood, which is why we’d planned to meet at the shop. But I ended up having to backtrack because, just as I was leaving, I got a text from Pete asking if I could swing by the house and pick up Gage’s new catcher’s mitt.
PETE:I tried to get a hold of Renn to ask him but he isn’t answering.
ME:He’s not at the studio with you?
PETE:I haven’t seen him all day.
PETE:You might even run into him in the house, in which case I’m sorry for sending you on a fool’s errand.
ME:NP. I’ll swing by and grab it.
That was strange. The appointment at Robbie’s school had been over hours ago. Where had Renn been? I hoped he wouldn’t blow off Gage’s game just to avoid talking to me.Why was he acting like I’d done something wrong, anyway? He was the one who’d had Hannah’s paws on him. I’d been feeling so good about dealing with Henri. Now apprehension replaced that triumph.
The Los Angelestraffic demons were asleep at the wheel because I made it to Pasadena in record time. As I pulled up to the now-familiar bend in the curb, I thought to myself how much I was already connected to this house. Renn had given me a bronze front door key, attached to a coffee cup keychain made by Gage out of modeling clay. I knew the combination to the security system—1991, Renn’s birth year, unchanged since Thomas set it up so long ago. My running shoes were lined up inside the front door, next to the basket where the boys tossed their backpacks.
I went into Gage’s room and found the catcher’s mitt underneath his bed. As I turned to leave, I ran into Robbie coming out of his room. He seemed startled to see me, but not in an oh-no-I’ve-been-caught-doing-something-naughty way.
“Uh…hey, Sadie.” He looked over my shoulder. “Is Renn here?”
“No. Just me. I came to pick this up for Gage.” I held up the mitt. “Renn and Pete are meeting me at the studio.”
“Oh right. The game.”
Robbie shuffled his feet. He had a generally antagonistic relationship with Gage, but perhaps he was feeling left out? “Do you want to come with me?” I asked.
“Huh?” The question clearly surprised him, so the fun of spending two hours watching nine-year-olds mostly walk or strike out wasn’t what was on his mind. “Um…no. I hope the game’s okay, but I have plans with Ryder.”
Robbie still seemed distracted, but I had to leave. I was already cutting it close. “Okay, well…see you later.”
I started moving past him when he stopped me. “Sadie?”
“Hmm?”
“I have something for you, to show you. I’ve had it a few days, but I didn’t want to give it to you in front of my brothers.”
I nodded. “Alright.”
Robbie shrugged off his backpack and undid the big zipper pocket. He slid his pointer finger between two sheets of sturdy cardboard and pulled out a thick piece of paper. “I made it in art class. It’s not very good, but I thought maybe…you would like it.”
I took the paper and held it away to get the full effect. It was a stunning watercolor painting of a blue lotus, impressionistic with a brilliantly chaotic style. I had known Robbie was artistic, but since he didn’t like to show his work or talk much about it, I’d only seen glimpses of a few things. But this was more accomplished than any of Renn’s paintings. Robbie wasn’t just good. He was a rare talent.
