“You … haven’t just gotten home, have you?” He looks down from my makeup to my clothes. There’s a little spark of vulnerability in that one-second glance. Does he imagine I’ve been with a man?
“I worked late at the bar, and I set my alarm like a grown-up. I’ve been right here. I’m always going to be right here.”
It makes him blow out a breath. He drops his arms and the visible slice of stomach disappears. I blow out a breath, too.
“You once told me that bad girls go to bed at six A.M.”
I’m not touching that one. “Is the water turned on in the house or not?”
“Yes, the water’s still on.” He disappears into his tent in a fluster. “Damn it. My guys will be here any second.” There’s the sound of clothes stretching. They make tents way too sturdy these days.
I go into my bedroom and get the new powerpack I bought at the same time as my phone. Another one of my pitiful efforts at responsibility.
“Plug your phone into this.”
“This is off to a fucking great start,” he is muttering to himself. A hand reaches out for the powerpack. “Please don’t tell Jamie that I slept in. He won’t let me forget it.”
“Don’t worry. I know what he’s like. He’ll tell the story for years. But your travel time is approximately thirty yards this morning, so you’re not late. You’re going to be fine.” It’s sad how hard he is on himself. “Even if you slept in until nine A.M., everything would be okay.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” he responds from his tent with a bit of temper in his tone. “I am doing everything perfectly.” The word sounds like a burden. I was the one that placed it on him. We all have.
I use the bathroom and brush my teeth, then walk around the empty house as the magical morning light begins to shine in sideways. I feel like everything’s happening too fast; in the flurry of packing and avoiding Tom, I forgot that this is all about to be in my past. I’m not ready to say goodbye to this. I go to the wall and smooth my hands over it, feeling the old wallpaper crackle. How can I keep this forever?
“I love you,” I whisper to the house. “Thank you. I’m sorry.” I go to the fireplace. I’ll make sure they cover it up with some sheets so it doesn’t get damaged. Each nail hammered in by Loretta is precious. I wonder how many little connections to her I’m about to lose as this house is stripped to its bones. I turn on the spot and I ache to ask Tom to cancel everything.
If I looked him in the eye and pleaded with him, he’d do it.
There’s a knock on the front door. I open it to find three men standing there in pristine polo shirts, embroidered with Valeska Building Services. I am speechless with pride. I can’t believe I almost considered asking Tom to ruin his life. He’s worth more than old wallpaper. That’s what I need to focus on: This is Tom’s big chance.
Bartender 101? Find the alpha. “Girl Scouts again? Fuck off.”
The bald one looks back at the street, checking he has the right house. The young guy grins. The old one purses his lips. There he is.
“I’m just fucking with you. I’m Darcy. Tom’s nude right now, but he’ll be right with you.”
“I’m not nude,” Tom snaps in irritation, striding into the room. He looks like he’s been very recently nude; his hair is a mess, and he’s got a shadow of stubble and a pillow crease on his cheek. How luscious. “Darcy, please behave yourself.”
I hold my hands up. “I cannot be responsible for what I say before six A.M. And before coffee. Now, pay attention. I want this fireplace cared for like it is a human child.” I pat my hand on the mantelpiece and go into the kitchen.
“Sleep in, boss?” the young one says. He doesn’t wait for a reply but follows along behind me. He’s a muscly little nugget, full of youth and mischief. I would definitely card him at the bar. Maybe he’s an apprentice—the next-generation Tom. Fetch. Pull. Carry. He leans on the counter. “Did you say coffee?”
“Sure did. Who wants one?”
“We need to get some equipment unpacked,” Tom says.
“A coffee won’t take a second,” I reply, pulling down a few mugs from the empty shelf. If I know anything in this life, it’s that people feel better once they’ve drunk some liquid. “I think Tom needs two coffees.” I grin over my shoulder at him. If I can just make things feel fun, he won’t feel that perfect pressure so much.
“Unpack the equipment,” Tom says in a bass tone I’ve never heard in my life. It’s the kind of voice that should be saying, On your knees. My joints loosen and my body replies, Okay.
They all turn and walk out. Tom casts me a dark look over his shoulder as he departs. My exhalation in the empty room is like a wheeze. Imagine being bossed around by Tom Valeska. I think he’s the only man I’d trust to do it right with me.
I’ve got to stop having these thoughts.
“Well, I don’t know how, but I’ve fucked up somehow,” I say to Patty. I’ve never seen Tom so deeply annoyed with me. I spoon out some breakfast into her bowl and find Diana sitting on the windowsill in the old laundry room. “We screwed up your house, didn’t we, lady?”
Diana won’t turn to look at me as she stares out the cracked window, her fur fluffed up and her tail wrapped around her toes. I didn’t even make sure she had somewhere to sleep last night. Just because she doesn’t need me, or like me, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep trying. I pick up her stiff, unwilling body and carry her under my arm down to my new bedroom. I leave her with a bowl of her favorite fish brains and an apology.
I wonder if Truly would like a cat.
Besides Diana, the main thing I need to sort out is my passport. I packed the entire house with my own two hands, but it still didn’t turn up. It makes no sense. I checked every pocket, every bag, every shoebox. It’s becoming a very real possibility that Jamie took it with him. I’ve texted him twice about it. Zero replies.