How to Love Your Neighbour(25)

When her phone buzzed again, she was setting up a second tarp along the wall with the window. She smiled, wondering if he’d call her a cheater or appreciate her cleverness.

He should be there any minute. She glanced at her phone again, wary of it being Tammy. Her mom didn’t seem to understand the whole connection between actions and consequences. Ignore your kid for most of her life, putting yourself first, your child becomes an adult who doesn’t want much to do with you.

It was Morty. She smiled at all the errors. Whenever he text ed, he muttered and swore, cursing big thumbs and small gadgets.

Jus becuz you mooed don’t mean you cant call a duh



She pressed on his number. He answered on the first ring.

“You coulda texted me back,” he said instead of hello.

“I could have. But I wanted to hear your cheery voice.”

“Ha.” After a winded breath, he asked, “You doing okay?”

“Yes, just trying to decipher your text. I’m guessing you don’t think I moo and you meant to call yourself a guy?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Just check your text when we hang up. How are you?”

“I’m alive.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile. “This would be a weird conversation if you weren’t.”

“Be better if you didn’t pretend I don’t exist anymore.”

“I’ve been gone under two weeks.”

“Tilly wants you to come for dinner.”

She turned her head when she heard the knock, watched Noah walk in carrying supplies.

“Tilly wants that?”

“What can I say. She likes you for some reason.”

Grace laughed. “I miss you, too. Tomorrow good?”

“Good as anything else. Not like our schedule is jam-packed. You need anything?”

Noah set his things down before looking around. His gaze brightened when it landed on Grace.

“Nope. I’m good. See you tomorrow.”

She hung up, watched Noah wander around her space. The house wasn’t large. It’d probably fit inside of his. But when she walked around, she could almost picture her grandparents living there. Christmases in this very living room, cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Tucking her mom in down the hall in a small bedroom across from their slightly larger one. Her mother never talked about growing up in a way that let Grace picture it. But being here, it was almost like she felt more connected to a life she’d never been allowed to know. One that included a family that might have loved her.

“Great bones but it needs a lot of work,” he said, slowly turning as she slid her phone into her pocket.

“Excuse me?”

He gestured to the living room. “The house. It’s got great bones. The original moldings, the hardwood floors. There’s a lot here. But there’s also a lot to do. You ever renovated a whole house?”

She arched her brow, thinking of all the differences between them. “No. Can’t say I have. This would be the first one I’ve ever owned. Lots of my classmates work fixing up places or doing construction but I’ve only ever ventured into the interior aspect. Doesn’t mean I can’t learn.”

“You are a very curious and capable woman.”

She beamed at him. “Thank you.”

He just laughed. The women he usually hung out with liked different compliments. “We’re doing the living room?”

The evening sunset was casting a glow through the uncurtained picture window. Dust motes danced in the soft rays.

“We are. We don’t have much in here because, like you, I plan on taking the wall out between the kitchen and living room.” She walked forward so he could see the galley-style kitchen that was far too narrow for her tastes.

He walked in, turned around. He was almost too big for the space. “This wall is all cabinets so you won’t have to worry about plumbing but what will you do for storage?”

She pointed to the wall beside the door that led to the back porch. “I’ll install cupboards along that wall.” She turned. “I’m going to put an island here to separate the spaces. I’ll be able to move the fridge to that wall, add more counter space there, and the island counter will have storage underneath.”

He nodded, a smile lifting one side of his lips. “Smart.” He walked through the doorway, back into the living room. “So, we aren’t painting this wall. Just that one, the front, and the bits on the side over there?”

She smiled at him, trying not to make it too obvious that she was about to play him hard. “You got it.”

With a frown, he put his hands on his hips. His loose board shorts could easily distract her, but she had her game face on now. At least externally.

“How are we going to race?”

She took a deep breath, smiling as she exhaled. “I measured and it turns out that this wall”—she pointed to the one with the window, the very large window—“and this one”—she pointed—“are the same size.”

There was a small window on the wall he’d paint that peeked out to the side yard between their homes.

His jaw dropped open and he stepped forward, making her tip her head back. “You’re going to cheat.”