Some Sort of Crazy (Happy Crazy Love, #2)(5)
“She didn’t say it was a handsome stranger, she just said it was a stranger.” I reached for the mustard and squirted some on the top half of my bun. “And it was a load of horse shit anyway.”
“You don’t know that. What if it isn’t?” Skylar waved a fry at me, a blob of ketchup dropping onto the table. “Everything else she said about you was spot on.”
I replaced the bun and took a big bite, chewing slowly as I mulled that over. Was it true what she’d said about me? That once I make a decision I follow it through to the end, whether it’s right or wrong? And wasn’t that admirable, anyway? Why was it stubborn to see your goals through? I was where I was in life because of determination and hard work. At twenty-six, I was a successful entrepreneur who’d started my own small business and managed it daily; a loyal girlfriend to my very first love; and a homeowner thanks to my wise investments and frugal living.
So why were Madam Psuka’s words so unsettling?
“Maybe ‘upended’ isn’t a bad thing,” I said hopefully. “Maybe it’s just big changes coming.”
“That’s true.” Jillian nodded enthusiastically. “She didn’t say the chaos was bad or anything. And no one can sort out chaos like you, Nat.”
“Thanks.” I gave her a grateful smile.
“Good chaos could even be fun,” Skylar put in. “Like getting engaged and planning a wedding. Or renovating your new house—that’s gonna be a huge project.”
I frowned at her. “It doesn’t need that much renovating, not really.”
Skylar’s eyes bugged out. “Natalie. You have a sponge painted dining room. No.”
“And that wallpaper in the guest bedroom is horrible,” Jillian added. “Sorry if I’m meddling.”
“And that ivy stencil in the kitchen.” Skylar shuddered.
“That doesn’t bother me so much. The master bedroom and bathroom are perfect. And I don’t have money to redo everything at once anyway.”
“What about Dan? Shouldn’t he be helping you with these costs? Assuming he ever moves in,” she muttered under her breath.
“He’ll move in, eventually.” I shrugged. “But he has to sell his condo first, and he’d remortgaged it to buy into the marina. Money is tight for him right now. Plus, I kind of like having the place to myself for a while. And I can afford it. I feel good about that.”
Skylar splayed her hand over her chest. “OK, but please let me help you in that kitchen. We’ll strip that paper and paint it. I cannot handle the ivy.”
Jillian laughed. “I’ll help too, when I can. My hours will be so much better than before. Almost human, I think.”
“Good. Then you can sign up for that online dating thing I told you about.” Skylar gave Jillian a smug look before polishing off her burger.
Jillian sighed, picked up her water glass, and put it back down. “Anyone ready for another drink?”
“Yes,” Skylar and I said together. We ordered glasses of wine from Abelard Vineyards, where Skylar worked and was planning to be married, and toasted our successes once more.
“To Skylar, may your wedding be the most beautiful event this town has ever seen,” Jillian said, glass raised.
“To Jilly Bean, may your future patients appreciate how lucky they are to have the best doctor in the world,” I said, clinking my glass to hers.
“To Natalie, may she always open the door of her new house to handsome strangers.” Skylar’s eyes glinted mischievously as she touched her glass to ours. “Sometimes a little chaos is a good thing.”
? ? ?
A few days later, I was getting ready for work when my phone vibrated on the bathroom vanity. Surprised, I glanced down at it as I finished winding the elastic around my ponytail. It was four in the morning. Who did I know that would even be up at this hour?
Miles Haas calling, read the screen
I blinked.
Miles Haas was awake right now? He’s probably hammered, on his way home from a bar or a party or the bedroom of some girl who thinks he’ll call her tomorrow. I bet he drunk-dialed me by mistake. He’d done that the last time we’d talked, about a year ago, but he hadn’t admitted it until we’d been on the phone for almost an hour. Plus I was running late already, I was short-staffed today, and I had to make muffins for the coffee crowd and get the salads going for lunch. Tourist season was in full swing, and diners had cleaned me out yesterday. I did not have time for an early morning chat with Miles Haas.
Still, I took his call. I always did.
“Hello?”
“You married yet?” The gritty yet playful sound of his voice unlocked twenty years’ worth of memories. Treehouse, mud puddle, sticky cotton candy memories of summers he’d spent at his family’s summer house on Old Mission peninsula, where I grew up.
I smiled. “No.”
“Good. That guy was a douche. He didn’t deserve you.”
“We’re still together, Miles.”
“Still? Jesus. That’s even worse.” Miles and Dan shared an intense mutual dislike for each other, which I’d never fully understood, since there had never been anything romantic between Miles and me.
Well, except for that one night.
The almost night.