Lost in La La Land(40)

He parted his lips, visibly offended and then snapped them shut. He took a noisy breath and stepped closer. “I’ve offended you, and while the words were not meant for you to hear, you did. I cannot change the fears I have, only hope that you will forgive me for them and whatever strain they have caused.”

“Maybe.” I narrowed my gaze again.

He stepped closer, not testing my anger but maybe our restraint.

I took a step back, hoping he would give chase.

He did.

He came as close as he was the first time we kissed, but lifted my hands with his, kissing the backs of them delicately. “Forgive me,” he whispered to my hand.

“Perhaps.” A smile danced upon my lips as I thought about his other words. “You said you loved me.”

“I did? Are you certain? It’s hard to hear through the brick walls.”

“I heard you. Verbatim, you said, ‘Why I never fall in love with a simple girl . . . ?’”

“Hmmmm.” He furrowed his brow. “That is not the way I intended to tell you I loved you. I imagined something more elaborate, perhaps a stroll in the gardens and a stolen moment amongst the hedges. Or a hilltop at sunset.”

I bit my lip, wanting things I hadn’t wanted in so long I wasn't sure they still worked.

“I do.” He spoke one thing but his eyes wrestled with another. Perhaps the propriety missing from the moment. Neither of us was showing any. “I do love you. The moment I met you, I couldn’t help but want to be near you. And now if I could wish one thing, it would be for us to never be apart. And though this is the wrong way to ask, as your father has not been considered in any way, marry me. Put me out of this agony I am stuck in. My hands and lips burn to touch you—be mine.”

I exhaled, not just air but the subtlest moan as well.

The moment couldn't have been done better.

A fireside library proposal was one of my dreams. Forget sunset and hedges, this was gold.

I took two breaths before I could answer, savoring the seconds spent in this blissful moment, and of course we were interrupted on my second breath.





Chapter Eighteen


Wyoming, Rhode Island, 2028



“The house is over three hundred years old. I’m sure you can understand my worries about your experience with houses this old.” I forced a smile at the man who wouldn't stop staring at me. He was the contractor I liked the least and most. His look was stern and his words abrupt, but there was something in his eyes. A gentleness I suspected he hid from the world.

“I get it. You wanna make sure the integrity is taken care of.” He broke his stare from my face and started glancing around the house. “It’s gonna take us three weeks to do the main floor including front porch and the stairs, two weeks upstairs, a week on the roof and attic, and then probably two weeks on the basement. And that’s only if we don't find anything unexpected. Being so old, I’m assuming unexpected is going to happen. Did you go over the quote?” He turned back to me, again flinching when he met my gaze. “This work is going to take my entire team, forty guys.”

“I did. It sounds fair. I will have fifty percent transferred into your account tomorrow, and as you make progress we will continue to add funds.” I didn't want to spend the money on the old place when I first got it but it had grown on me. Not to mention the fact we had a very real fear that Marguerite would show up with a psych assessment team any minute.

It helped that Lana and I were attached now and the plans we had for it meant it would need some refurbishment. And if we were doing a little, we might as well do it all. Get it over with. There was no way we would be able to defend ourselves against any attacks on our lifestyle if we kept living the way we were.

“I have often wondered about this old place. I’m excited you’re going to fix it up. It’s a real eyesore with that garden and the front porch.” He nodded and offered his hand. “My team will be here tomorrow. We’ll start on the roof and attic first, ensuring it’s dry up there. It’s usually a good place to find the beginnings of trouble. We’ll work our way down, doing the second floor next week. Sound all right?”

“It sounds great, Mr. Daley. Thank you.” I got the door for him, noticing the way he stared at me.

When I closed the door, Lana popped out from behind a corner. “He’s cute.”

“Do I have something on my face?” I asked.

“No.” She shrugged.

“He was staring.”

“Maybe he thought you were pretty.” She slung her arm over my shoulders and led me to the kitchen. “I can’t believe we’re finally doing the renovation. It’s going to be a mess in here.”

“I know. But it needs to get done. We’re spending all our time here; we need certain things to keep our bodies alive. We need a gym and the vibrational machine will be helpful with the atrophy. And the spa tubs will help with circulation. We need to start budgeting our time better. Think of it as an office job. When Gilda, the new homeworker, starts after the renovation, we’ll be in the machine ten hours at night, simultaneously. Then we have to learn to live in the normal world and get a workout in and try to eat something healthy, not just vitamins and protein. We need to be able to say we’re not crazy if Marguerite comes back, and with how we and this house look, I don't think we’ll convince anyone right now.”