How (Not) to Fall in Love(48)

“Yep. Liz texted me today to see if I can close up. She has plans with Charlie. Wanna come by for coffee?”

“Yeah, I’ll stop by on my way to Derek’s party.”

“Hope rehearsal sucks!” I laughed, waving as I ran to catch the bus.

Ms. Hetherington from Family Solutions stood in our foyer and looked around with wide eyes. “This is Tyler Covington’s home? I didn’t make the connection that Charlie is his brother.”

“Yes,” I said simply. “I’m Ty’s daughter.”

She tilted her head. “I’ve followed the news. So he’s not coming back?”

I swallowed. “He is. Eventually. In the meantime, we need to move. And we need cash. Lots of it.” There was no sense beating around the bush. This was her business and I needed—we needed—as much money as we could get.

“I do wish your mother was home.”

“She’s working. But I promise she’ll sign the contract. She wants this done.”

Ms. Hetherington nodded. “Then let’s get to it.”

We spent two hours walking through our house, talking about every item we owned, Toby trailing at our heels. She wanted to know the names of the artists whose work Mom collected. Fortunately Mom kept a careful journal with that information. Ms. Hetherington’s eyebrows raised as she flipped through it. “We may be better off working through some art dealers I know.”

“Fine,” I agreed.

“Your mom doesn’t want to keep any of it?”

“We’ve kept a few things aside. They’re in the master bedroom.” I’d had to force Mom to make those decisions, plying her with coffee and dragging her to each room in the house to tell me what she wanted to keep and what could go.

Ms. Hetherington nodded and made notes on her clipboard. “We’ll need to put stickers on everything you want to keep,” she told me as we stood in the kitchen. “I’ll have my crew with me to price everything. We’ll come the Tuesday before the sale. It will take us a good three days to price it all and display it properly. The sale will start on Friday and go through Sunday.” She eyed me, businesslike but kind. “It’s probably best if you and your mother aren’t here. It can be…difficult…to watch strangers haggle over your things. To see them carted away.”

I swallowed. “If you think that’s best.”

“I do.”

She prepared the contract while I made us tea. It seemed appropriate somehow. I felt like a character in one of my regency novels, at the whim of strangers who controlled my “estate.”

“Because I know your uncle so well I’m trusting that your mother’s signature will be authentic.” Ms. Hetherington eyed me over the teacup.

I blushed. I had thought of forging it, but there was no need. Mom would sign. “It will be. Should I fax it to you?”

“That will work temporarily, but I’ll need the original when we come to get things ready.” We shook hands and said good-bye.

I sank onto the foyer floor after closing the front door. Toby plopped down next to me. “We did it, Toby.” We lay on the cool tiles, just breathing. Once my heart stopped racing and my breathing calmed, I sat up. “We deserve a reward.” Toby panted in agreement. I headed for the freezer, intent on ice cream, but I veered toward the garage instead. I grabbed Toby’s leash from the hook. He danced with excitement.

We ran awkwardly at first. I’d gone too long between runs. My breathing was ragged, but I pushed through. My body protested but eventually settled into a familiar groove. “Better than ice cream,” I said to the stars winking above us. Sometimes I hated how early it got dark in the winter, but as we jogged through our neighborhood, the blanket of stars above us felt familiar and comforting. Toby jogged alongside me, his dog grin splitting his face.

And it was much better than ice cream.





Chapter Eighteen


November 7


Sal came by Liz’s on Friday night, true to her word. I’d just made her a triple-shot mocha with extra whip cream when the door opened and everything switched to slow motion.

It was like a scene from a movie. Everyone in the coffee shop turned to the door. How could they not? Lucas and Heather belonged on the big screen, though 3D IMAX could hardly do them justice. He was stunning in his tux. She’d cause car crashes in her strapless red dress and stiletto heels. They stood just inside the doorway, talking to some regular customers who’d recognized Lucas.

“Who the hell is that?” Sal whispered. She’d visited me at Liz’s before, but never when Lucas was around. I’d described him to her, but obviously I hadn’t done him justice.

My heart felt shattered as I watched him put his hand on Heather’s lower back, steering her into the shop. That day we’d walked together, when he’d almost held my hand, I must’ve been imagining the connection. I’d definitely hallucinated the part about him wanting to kiss me on the bridge.

I leaned in close so only Sal could hear me. “That’s Lucas. And she’s the reason he’ll never look twice at someone like me. Her name is Heather.”

Sal turned to me, her eyes huge. “That’s Lucas? Holy shizballs, girl. No wonder you’re spending all your time here.”

I blushed. “Shut it, DQ.”