Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Sebastián sent the text a week later, the afternoon before Lucy planned to leave Marysburg for a vacation and then her new job. Can we meet at my house tonight, after you finish seeing your super-cranky final client?
She responded within moments, as always. The woman was completely incapable of playing it cool or feigning disinterest.
Sure, she wrote. I’d already planned to stop by. I have a little something to give you before I head cross-country.
Since she’d moved back into the hotel, they’d stayed in contact through occasional e-mails and texts, but they hadn’t seen each other. Except for one awkward lunch, where she’d smiled a bit too brightly and he’d weighed his every word way too long before speaking.
Tonight should resolve that awkwardness and uncertainty one way or another.
He tapped out his response. See you at seven?
Sounds perfect!
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of anxiety, as he checked the paperwork for the billionth time and readied his house for Lucy’s arrival.
But then her Prius was pulling into his driveway, and she was climbing out of her car with a package in her hands, and he was going to lose his fucking mind if he hadn’t done so already.
He opened the door before she could ring the buzzer. “Hi, Lucy.”
“Hey, Seb.” She tilted her head, eyeing him with curiosity. “Are you okay? You look…I don’t know. Are you sick?”
“Nope.” With a hand at the small of her back, he ushered her inside his home. “Not sick. Happy you’re here.”
“Wow.” The furrows in her forehead deepened before she suddenly laughed. “You’re just saying that because I’m leaving soon.”
Had he really never told her he was glad to see her? Jesus.
“I’m saying that because it’s true.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Do you want a drink? I have some—”
“Thanks, but I can’t stay long.” She chose to sit on the armchair instead of the couch, the package in her lap. “I just wanted to give you this and say”—she cleared her throat, looking down at the sparkly ribbon on the rectangular box—“goodbye.”
From all signs, she wouldn’t receive what he wanted to say, the gifts he planned to offer her in return, as well as he’d hoped. But even at her most frustrated and hurt, Lucy Finch wouldn’t crush him underfoot. She wouldn’t do anything to him he hadn’t already done to her for years.
Only a few days ago, she’d offered to stay here in Marysburg for and with him.
He had to believe. In her. In them.
“I have something for you too.” Instead of taking the couch, which sat perpendicular to her and way too far away for his liking, he perched on the coffee table facing her. “Do you want to open your gift first?”
She shook her head and handed him the gaily wrapped package. “You go.”
The ribbon exploded into a profusion of joyful curls in the center. Not one of them was identical. Handmade, then. She’d carefully folded the edges of the paper and smoothed down the tape until it became invisible.
He opened the gift with care, loath to rip the thick wrapping.
Finally, the folds of the tie-dyed paper separated, and he was looking down at himself.
Or, to be precise, himself and Lucy. The two of them were lying on a small bed, staring at the ceiling, their heads close together.
She was resting closest to the camera and giggling, her smile wide and bright, her nose stud glinting in the light from the bus windows.
His face was largely in shadow, his amusement only revealed through the tucked corners of his mouth.
“The dick-lover’s Sistine Chapel. Our first sight of it is well worth commemorating.” He held the framed photo with care, as if it might sift through his fingers and disappear. “Did the film crew get you a still frame from their footage?”
She nodded. “Your house…” Biting her lip, she paused. “I thought you might like something joyful in your house. Something to remind you that you have a friend who cares about you and wants your happiness. Always and forever.”
She rushed on before he could respond. “If you don’t want anyone to see it, put it in your bedroom.” Her cheeks pinkened. “Although I suppose that’s a na?ve thing to say. Of course you’ll eventually have someone else in your—”
“Lucy.” He put down the photo and took her hands in his. “Thank you. I love it.”
Her fingers were trembling, and her eyes had turned bright. She was trying so hard not to cry, and his long-ignored heart cracked in his chest.
“I know just the spot for the picture.” Standing, he tugged her up beside him. “Let’s go and nail it in place.”
“Really?” She blinked hard. “You’re going to put it up?”
“Yes. Right now.” He held one of her hands all the way to his bedroom. “I’m thinking it should go to the left of the bed. There isn’t a lot of space on the other walls.”
Her brows pinched. “Not enough space? Your room looks like the cell of an antisocial monk who really loves pillow top mattresses.”
“See for yourself.” He waved her in front of him, gripping the picture frame with unsteady fingers as she walked inside.
Her gasp echoed in his ears.
Mouth open, she drifted to the nearest wall and touched the framed image there. “You and your family at your sister’s wedding. What a beautiful photo.” Her gaze drifted. “And your parents’ house. Was this taken back when we were in high school?”
He nodded. “I’m glad my parents moved someplace nicer, but I still think about that house.
I always felt more comfortable there than I did anywhere else.
” After a pause, he forced himself to keep talking, keep exposing himself.
“When I was in college, I’d drive five hours each way to come back on weekends. ”
“Because you missed the house?”
“Because I missed my family.” He swallowed. “A lot.”
“I didn’t know that.” Her voice was hushed, as if she feared disturbing whatever was occurring in this room. Whatever had changed between the last time she’d seen his bedroom and now.
He braced himself. She hadn’t spotted the most revealing decorations yet, but she was moving closer.
“Is this picture…” She swiveled to face him. “Is this the creek where we used to go after school and during the summers?”
“The Marysburg stream. My favorite place in the world.” He gazed at the grass, the sparkling water in the photo. Anything not to meet her eyes. “I think about you every time I see it. I think about sitting with you by the water every time I need to calm and comfort myself.”
“I had no clue. None.” A twinge of hurt sounded in her voice, but also wonder.
Then she reached the wall near the bed. Even if he hadn’t been watching her progress, he’d have known where she was from the sudden silence.
“Lucy…” He trailed off, unsure what to say.
She touched a gilded frame. “You kept my senior pictures all these years.”
“You had bangs back then.” Embarrassed and exposed, he lifted a shoulder. “It was cute.”
“How…” Slowly, she turned in place, scanning all the walls of the room. “How did you get all these photos of the two of us?”
“My parents took some when we weren’t looking. I asked them for copies.” He let out a slow breath. Might as well tell her all of it. “There were a couple of us from the back of the yearbook. I scanned those.”
She wandered to the left of the bed and sucked in another harsh breath. “Oh, my goddess.”
“The crew must have rolled their eyes at us. But they gave me a still frame from their footage without telling me you’d done the same thing.
” Forcing his legs to move, he stepped next to her.
“Holding you, having you beneath me, made that horrible, claustrophobic loft the most wonderful place I’d ever been. ”
He’d positioned the photo next to his bed for good reason. The way her heavy-lidded gaze met his, the ease with which she cradled his body between her legs, the possessive claim of his hands in her hair, the parting of her lips…
It incinerated him. Every time.
She blinked, her brow creased. “You almost smushed your brain in that loft. Like, two seconds after the picture must have been taken.”
“Holding you was worth every lost bit of gray matter.” Despite his anxiety, he couldn’t help but smile. “Which isn’t to say I wanted you to buy the Pot Palace.”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t.”
The words sounded absent. She was working through what she was seeing and hearing, testing out the implications and reaching conclusions.
“That’s what the crew said.” He’d known in his heart she would stand her ground, but he was glad anyway.
“Seb, what does this m—”
He laid the frame on his bed and strode for the door, lightheaded from the rapid beat of his heart. “Let’s put your picture on the wall later. You should take a look at my gift before we talk more.”
The rolled sheaf of papers was lying on the kitchen island, tied together with a satin ribbon. Rainbow-colored, her favorite.
After he handed it to her, everything in his body seemed to freeze in place. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. He could only watch her unroll his heart, which he’d offered her in schematic form. He was an engineer, after all.
She scanned the top blueprint first. “You…” Her head gave a little shake. “You found designs for a yurt? I don’t… I don’t understand.”
His paralyzed vocal cords finally unfroze a fraction.
“I want you to have everything you need in your new home. Everything that would make your life easier and happier. I couldn’t find one yurt design that encompassed all the necessary features, so I combined a couple of different plans.
Then I ran them by the custom-built-yurt company to make sure they were feasible.
” He rolled his eyes. “And then I ran them by an architect and a structural engineer too, because I think those yurt people were high when I talked to them. I wanted to make sure you’d be warm, safe, and able to transport the yurt easily. ”