End of Story(64)

“Wow. She always was a night owl. But shouldn’t you have waited for daylight to check out the house?”

“It was fine. We saw what we needed to. The place is going to be a lot of work, but it’s like this one. In a great location with a ton of potential.” He smiled. “She wants to close as soon as possible. Apparently she’s decided she belongs in the desert, better for her arthritis. She’s already got her eye on a place down in Arizona. I’ll call my boss and talk things over in the morning. The plan is I’ll move into Miss Lillian’s house in a week when the condo closes and get started straight away doing what I can. It’s not like I’m good for anything at work with this cast on my wrist. Hopefully my boss will agree.”

“That’s a shame that Miss Lillian is leaving. But you’re really doing it?” My eyebrows reached for the sky. “You and Tore are starting your business?”

This time his smile was much larger. “Yeah.”

“That’s fantastic, Lars.”

“Thank you. The time is right. Feels like everything is finally coming together.” He shuffled his feet. “This is big. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“It’s huge.”

“Mateo will hopefully come work for us on the next flip if Lillian’s sells for what we’re hoping. Tore will stay on at his job for a little longer to ensure there’s definitely still cash coming in. But otherwise we’re all set. This is what we’ve been planning and saving toward all these years.”

“I’m so happy for you. You’re going to do great.”

“That damn car could have killed me last week.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “I can see why that would push you to put the plan into motion sooner rather than later.”

He nodded. “There’s a hell of a lot I still want to do in life. Things I want to achieve.”

“Yeah.”

Then he raised a finger to boop my nose, making me giggle. Either he was a comedy god, or I was drunk off my ass. It honestly could have been either.

“Any luck talking to ghosts?” he asked.

“No. Nothing.”

“And you actually sound surprised by that.”

“Hope springs eternal.” I smiled. “Wonder if you’ll find anything in the walls of Miss Lillian’s house.”

“I fucking hope not. Things are complicated enough.” He turned away. “I’m going to head back over to the condo tomorrow. Pack everything up.”

My face fell. “Oh.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “What does that look mean, Susie?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure about that?”

“Well, I mean, are you going to do that and then come back for the next week?” I asked. “Or are you like leaving now on a more permanent basis?”

“I’m getting out of your hair for the time being,” he clarified. “But I’ll be around.”

“Right. That’s...that’s good.”

“That’s good?” His gaze roamed over my face. As if I were in any condition to be examined. It was past time for me to get my ass into bed. He took a step back and leaned against the wall. Was it just my imagination or was he putting distance between us?

“Yes.” I frowned. But that wasn’t the right face. So I smiled instead. “Everything is working out so well for you, Lars. Your whole life plan is coming together.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” I repeated softly. “I, um... Can we maybe talk some more about this in the morning?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

The best cure for a hangover has long been debated. Some swear by hair of the dog. While others are big on electrolytes. One college friend of mine simply refused to rise until any and all symptoms had passed. Which might have been why she had a tendency to fail any subjects scheduled for Monday morning. My own personal cure-all involved caffeine, grease, and painkillers. Since it was summer, I went with an ice-cold can of Coke. This was served with eggs, bacon, and toast, with two Tylenol on the side. A combination that soon worked wonders on my headache and queasy stomach.

Not waking until after ten meant Lars was long gone. But he’d left me a note. He’d be back tonight for our talk. What the hell was I going to say to the man? That was the question. Feelings frightened me. The house was strangely quiet without him. For someone who’d loved having a place to herself just a few short months ago, this was a not-so-welcome reaction to his absence. Was I willing to sacrifice some of my independence for his companionship? He might not even want to take this thing between us further. Or at least, not so fast. His reactions last night had been confusing. Though that might have been the booze.

With no immediate answer to these questions, I buried myself in work, liaising with influencers regarding the recent launch of the period panties. Their online presence on a Sunday was normal. Social media could be a 24-7 thing. Although I tried to find a life/work balance, it didn’t always happen. Though being my own boss more than made up for it on most occasions. That I’d been forced to don a pair of the panties that morning made the work even more relevant. Little wonder I was in a weird emotional state with my hormones raging and blood flowing. Having your period was so bleh.