Page 36 of Take Her

I’d already done the front half of the book—and it was rough going, because the whole premise was that Sarah, a girl a little older than me, was in love with her boyfriend, Mason, who’d gotten cancer—and while she and his older brother Caleb had been folding one thousand cranes for him, they’d fallen in love accidentally.

It was so subtly sweet it hurt me in a good way. Her watching Caleb fold cranes and wondering what his hands would feel like on her skin, the depth of compassion and love she had for Mason as he kept getting sicker—I felt her pain on each page like so many paper-thin knives, and only the knowledge that it would work out all right in the end kept me going.

I was almost to the part where she’d confess her love to Caleb, and he’d tell her that he didn’t feel the same, because his ex-girlfriend had come back pregnant, and he wanted to do right by her—and then my phone buzzed with a text.

He hasn’t left his building yet—calling it a night.

My PI.

It was eleven.

Had Rhaim’s date stood him up?

I couldn’t even fathom the possibility.

But just because he hadn’t left didn’t mean that any number of intelligent, attractive, and possibly significantly less crazier than me women couldn’t have just walked up to his penthouse.

He made enough money, he could’ve had them helicoptered to his roof.

Thanks

I texted back, and managed not to include an emoji.

Then I swept my hair out of my face and redid my bun.

Sarah loved Mason no matter what. And while I knew they were fictional, and that my life in no such way compared, I just needed to see something work out.

I needed something to root for.

I needed to feel safe, despite breathtaking odds and extraordinary situations.

Because reading about them made me feel like maybe, just maybe, it could happen to me, too.

Reality was real enough, and I’d dealt with enough shit today; I deserved to have some happiness.

I knew because I’d made it to the end of the book before that Mason would eventually give Sarah his blessing for her future happiness as his dying wish, freeing Caleb from any guilt, and that months later, Sarah and Caleb would finally meet again and finally, finally hold hands and that the scene would leave me sobbing.

All I had to do was get there.

I bit the cap off of a highlighter and started to gnaw on it while I sank back into the pages.

Four hours later, I was sleeping peacefully when my phone beeped.

I blinked awake, wiping up some drool, and was dismayed at the bright pink stain my dropped highlighter had left on my comforter.

I didn’t reach straight for my phone—because there was no way any message I was getting this time of night could be good. Had my guy stuck around Rhaim’s apartment and spotted him walking a beautiful woman to her Uber?

“Fuck, fuck, damn,” I cursed, looking at my phone like it had turned into a snake.

I could roll over and pretend I hadn’t heard it—try to drift back to sleep not knowing.

But I was never a “find out later” kind of girl.

I snatched it up and turned the screen on, hopping into my messages—and the only thing worse than finding out Rhaim was sleeping with someone else popped up, from a number I didn’t know:

Heard you were back in town.

Can’t wait to see you at your father’s birthday party.

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