End of Story(19)

Five


On Monday, I greeted Lars with a smile. “Morning.”

“Hey. Listen, about Saturday—”

“I think it would be best if we don’t talk about that.”

He paused and frowned. “You’re mad at me.”

While I hadn’t dressed for war, I had dressed for work. Slim black cotton pants and a matching sleeveless top. I wore a lot of black. It not only made my curves look great, but it was my happy color. My father firmly believed that females were pretty ornaments. Dressing like I was constantly on my way to a funeral had been my way of pushing back as a teenager. Then it had become my normal. Today my hair was up in a ponytail and my lips were matte red. I wore flat leather slides. Though heels might have been better. But no matter how Lars loomed over me, I would not back down. I’d given the situation a lot of thought and decided a professional approach between us was best. His taste in friends made anything else impossible. This had now been proven beyond a doubt.

“I’m not mad at you, Lars,” I said. “He’s your best friend. I get it. But for me, he’s a horrible mistake that I want to never be reminded of ever again. On the bright side, I think it’s now obvious what caused the divorce. Don’t you? Having your loyalties divided between the two of us would be impossible.”

Nothing from him.

“At any rate, I think it’s best if we just keep things on a professional level.”

His frown deepened.

“I’ll be out today. Is it okay if I leave you with a spare set of keys in case I’m not back by the time you’re finished?”

“Sure.” And he said no more.

The day was spent at the offices of my client who produced clothing from organic and recycled materials. Cleo was shooting their winter collection while I handled the behind-the-scenes shots and discussed some online marketing ideas with their owner and manager. A long day, but a productive one. And leaving with a selection of samples made for an awesome perk. My job required a solid social media presence and having new things to post about was great.

Cleo and I wound up going out for dinner afterward and I didn’t get home until dark. Finding the house still open and a couple of lights on was strange. Guess Lars decided to work late. I wandered through, dumping my purse (with the certificate safely inside) and other things on the dining room table. The plaster work on the walls had been completed. It might not look like Aunt Susan’s house anymore, but it was starting to look like my home. Though a couch would be nice. Something comfy to lounge on at the end of the day.

Lars wasn’t inside, but I could hear the soft sound of his voice coming from out back.

A fire burned in a big black metal bowl and old-style party lights were strung up between the maple and the house. Pale blue cushions now sat on the Adirondack chairs gathered around the fire pit. A collection of stone pavers had been laid beneath the bowl to protect the ground. He must have had help from his crew. Because the small backyard had been elevated into a magical space. Just like I’d imagined it could be.

And there stood Lars with the cat winding around his ankles. Guess that was who he’d been talking to. Shadows danced along the hard lines of his face and it was so wildly unfair how attractive this man was. Life would be so much simpler if he were easy to ignore.

“I didn’t know what you had in mind exactly,” he said when he saw me, tone almost hesitant. “But I thought this would get you started.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He gave me a brief smile. Very brief. “I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”

“I wasn’t mad.”

“You kind of were,” he said. “Anyway. How he talked to you...it wasn’t right. You were my guest and...”

“Yeah,” I said. “Though I guess I did sort of start it. Sort of.”

“Tore really gave it to me yesterday.”

My brows rose. “Oh.”

“He was right. I wasn’t a good friend to you. I let you walk away alone, and upset. I’d like the chance to try again.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier not to?” I asked.

“It might be easier, but I don’t think it would be better.”

I didn’t know what to say. Nor did I need all of these emotions. Seriously.

Then he scratched at his beard and said, “My brother and you... Is there something there?”

“No.”

He nodded.

“Your girlfriend seemed nice,” I said, for reasons.

He turned his face away. “Yeah.”

“What you’ve done out here is amazing.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “They were getting rid of the fire bowl at another job and the pebbles were left over from something else. Mateo helped.”

“You decorated, Lars. You bought soft furnishings.”

He shrugged, all embarrassed like. “I better get going.”

“You really want to be friends?”

“Well...yeah.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you, Lars. It really is beautiful.”

If he were someone else, I might have hugged him in thanks. But we kept a careful distance between us. Without another word, he gave me a nod and left. And that was that.

I sat in one of the chairs, the cat settled in the other, and we both watched the flames. So soothing. Pity about the mess in my head regarding a certain handyman. Otherwise now known as my friend, apparently. I’d had male friends before, but for some reason this felt different. In the year I’d been with Aaron, I’d received a wilted bunch of flowers. Talk about ignoring the signs. Not that I couldn’t buy things for myself. But showing some appreciation now and then was a good thing.