Chapter Twenty-One #2
When I got home, the house was freezing, even with the heating on, and the cats were curled together in the laundry basket in Flo’s room, surrounded by all the clothes she hadn’t put away before she left.
I brought the cats downstairs, carrying them in the basket, and set them in front of the fireplace in the kitchen.
The minute they smelled food they came leaping out of the basket, mewing like crazy.
I took a million photos of them and sent them to Flo.
Then I lit the fire and, as the hearth heated up, watched them sprawl in a higgledy-piggledy row in front of it, grooming themselves and each other.
I put the fire guard up, threw dinner on, and raced upstairs to shower, just in case Jake came by.
My clothes were still strewn everywhere from the night before, when I couldn’t decide what to wear, and I picked them up and crammed them into the chest of drawers.
I’d sort it out tomorrow. I opted for my fleece yoga pants, a loose sweater, and a thick pair of ski socks, figuring tonight was about easing tension, not dressing to impress.
The casserole would keep warm for as long as it took.
I was antsy as I waited, checking my phone but hearing only from Flo, who hearted all one million of the cat photos.
One by one the cats jumped back in the basket and went back to sleep, enjoying the fire.
I fidgeted for a while and then migrated to the dining room, ostensibly to kill some time sorting culch, but actually to spy on Tinker Street.
From here I had a good view down the street to Jake’s place.
But the hardware store and apartment above were still dark.
The weather had eased, and the clouds were breaking to reveal inky patches of moonless sky. Everything seemed hushed, like the whole street was exhaling after the storm.
I flipped through the paintings stacked behind the door.
There were a lot of coastal landscapes, many of them brooding, some charcoals too, and a handful of bright still life oil paintings of summer flowers.
I realized I might want to keep some of them.
Including the map of Maine Jake had mentioned when he took us around on our initial tour.
There was no X marking buried treasure, but it was a beautiful old map, and there was another one of Knox County, which looked hand drawn and colored.
I pulled it out and put it on the dining table, peering at it to find Oxeye.
I hadn’t realized there were so many islands out there in the bay. The map might look good in the hall…
I heard a car turn the corner to the street and flew to the window, peering out. It was Jake’s pickup. My heart pounding, I backed away from the window and turned off the light. I went into the parlor—to pretend like I’d been diligently sorting junk and not spying on his house all evening.
Distantly, I heard Hazel’s high bark.
Music, I thought nervously. I should put music on, so I’d look extra casual.
I didn’t want him to feel any pressure. Or me to feel any pressure.
I fetched our little portable speaker and threw on a relaxing playlist. I considered the parlor fireplace.
I hadn’t used it yet—should I bother? No.
If he turned up, he wouldn’t want to sit in here while I sorted his mother’s junk.
His mother’s junk. The realizations kept coming like aftershocks.
I looked around the parlor. All those bags of pop beads and Happy Meal toys and all the other stuff had been hers.
I looked around with fresh eyes. He’d spent his summer days in this room with its porthole windows and its egg-shaped chandelier.
How weird must it be for him to come here now that I lived here?
Very weird, I assumed. And maybe quite painful.
I relived every time he’d been in the house, all the way back to that first day when he’d given us a tour.
Him talking about the missing lampshades in the hall, the floorboards under the linoleum, the need for a heat pump.
His stressed, pinched look, which I’d mistaken for grumpiness.
The way he’d clutched the banister on the landing, looking like he wanted to run away.
All those attempts to convince me I didn’t want to take this place on…
What must he have been feeling?
I heard the crunch of boots on the street outside and Hazel’s soft woof of excitement. I bit my lip, every muscle tensed as I strained to hear his footsteps. He was coming up the front steps instead of around the back. Why? Didn’t he feel comfortable here with me anymore, now that I knew?
There was a gentle knock on the door.
I tried to act relaxed and walk casually, but really I sped to the door. I opened it, my heart skipping like I was a little kid and it was Christmas.
God, he looked good. He was in a thick cable-knit sweater and a beanie. His jaw was stubbled, which only made him look better. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, Hazel sitting at his feet, looking up at him with her adoring eyes.
“Hey,” he said nervously, not quite able to meet my gaze.
“Hey.” My breath plumed in front of me.
“I got your flowers.” He risked a look at me.
I tried to radiate gladness to see him. “Thank you for dinner last night,” I said lightly. “I wondered if I might repay the favor?” I saw him bite the inside of his lip. “No questions,” I promised. “No talk of anything at all if you want. We can mime.”
His dimple dented. “Mime, huh?”
“Yeah.” I held the door wider.
He looked down at Hazel. “Uh, the cats?” He fidgeted. “I really can’t leave her alone. And I don’t like to leave her in the yard at night, it’s so cold.”
“She can come in, can’t you, Hazel?” I stepped back into the hall. “I’ll run the kittens up to Flo’s room. They’re okay up there, it’s not too cold.”
“Should we wait here till you get them up?” he asked.
The relief washed through me that he was staying.
“Um, here or the parlor? It’s got to be at least a little warmer in there.”
Gingerly he stepped over the threshold, Hazel trotting alongside, her tongue lolling. He took her into the parlor. I watched for his reaction to the room, trying to read every micro-expression. Stop it, I hissed at myself. I’d make him uncomfortable if I kept watching him like that.
“I’ll be right back,” I promised, dashing Mac and the Cheeses upstairs in their basket. I also ran up some kibble and water and freshened their litter tray, then washed my hands in the bathroom, spritzed on some perfume, and slicked on some lip gloss.
When I got back down, Jake was standing in the middle of the room. “You’re making headway,” he said gruffly. “You’ll have this room ready to use by Christmas.”
“I hope so,” I laughed, “because Suni and Wayne and the whole family are descending on me for the holidays. I have to set up some furniture. And buy a blow-up mattress or two.”
“There are some folding cots in that other outbuilding if you want extra beds,” he said. Then he bit his lip.
“No talking,” I promised, holding up my hands. “Are you hungry? I’ve still only got the countertop oven so it’s just a casserole. But it’s hot.”
I led him and Hazel out to the kitchen. She flopped in front of the fire, panting happily at being included.
With only the cracking of the fire and the soft music curling through the house from the parlor to break the silence, we sat opposite each other, eating dinner and stealing looks at one another.
Afterward, I made hot chocolate, and we turned our chairs to sit in front of the fire, watching the flames dance.
Eventually, he reached out and took my hand in his, tracing my fingers.
“I haven’t experienced quiet like this in years,” I whispered. “Flo talks a mile a minute.”
He smiled but didn’t say anything. A little later, we did the dishes together, him washing and me drying, without saying a word.
And when he went to leave, he pressed me against the wall and kissed me until I couldn’t remember how to breathe.
His hands cradled my head and his legs bracketed mine; I was cocooned in his embrace as he ravished my mouth with his.
I didn’t know kisses like this existed in real life.
They’d always seemed the stuff of romance novels and old films. But here I was swooning, unable to stand without his support, and all because of a kiss.
By the time he pulled away, my lips were deliciously swollen and my whole body was languid with pleasure. He stroked my jaw with his thumb and then pressed a gentler kiss on my forehead. I knew he was saying goodnight, even though he didn’t utter a word.
“Hey,” I called as Jake trotted down the front steps with Hazel in tow.
He turned, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I was still tingling from his kiss. “Seeing as how I don’t have any kid to look after, I was wondering if I could buy you dinner? Maybe in Rockport or Camden?”
He broke into a half smile. “Like a date?”
“Exactly like a date.” I cleared my throat. “We can talk about the weather.”
“We can talk about anything you want,” he said, his voice husky. “Goodnight, Zoe.”
The way he said my name made it sound like an endearment. “Goodnight, Jake.”
Hazel barked.
“Goodnight, Hazel!” I laughed.
“Go inside, or you’ll freeze,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As he walked home, he looked back at me. More than once.