Chapter Twenty-One
SHANNON
Gerard was talking about something—sea urchin harvesting, maybe?—and I was doing a fair job at the appearance of listening. There were well-timed nods, some interested murmurs, and enough eye contact to get by, but I wanted to reach across the table and gag him with a dinner roll.
By the time I’d finished chatting with Andy, it was too late to cancel on him, and having a face-to-face conversation seemed like the least bitchy path.
That was two hours ago. Now…the bitchy path sounded terrific.
“This story you’ve been telling for the past forty-five minutes is truly incredible,” I said, holding up my hand to stop his flow. “But I was hoping we could talk about a few other things now.”
“I didn’t realize,” he said, his eyes wide as if he was bewildered by his own staying power. “Meredith always said I lost track of time when I was engaged in a subject.”
Dear Meredith. Sweet, precious Meredith. Gerard’s ex-wife deserved a medal for the time she served under this guy.
“Yes, that’s nice,” I said.
My eyes dropped to the napkin in my lap, and I folded it into a crisp triangle. It was time to put this kinda-sorta relationship to an end. I’d needed someone to keep me occupied during a rough spot, and Gerard did that for me. He’d babbled me to death while I’d isolated every memory of Will and tucked them away. He’d brought me a pleasant absence of emotion, and now I could be cold and empty without urchin stories.
Eliminating the urchin stories was my only motivation; I wasn’t pulling the plug on Gerard because Will was…whatever he was.
I cleared my throat and flattened my hands on the table. “It’s been lovely—”
“Hi, sorry I’m late.” I glanced up just as Will pulled an empty chair from a neighboring table and parked himself between Gerard and me. A devious grin tugged at his lips. There was always a shenanigan with this fucker. “I’m glad you didn’t wait to order. May I?”
He grabbed my fork and sampled the untouched salmon on my plate. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I whispered.
To his credit, Gerard nodded at Will, smiling as if he was expecting him to crash our evening, and beckoned the waiter to our table. “A drink, Captain?”
“Enough with the ‘Captain’ business,” I snapped. “He doesn’t need you inflating his ego when it’s already exceptionally large.”
“And by ego you mean cock,” Will said under his breath.
Gerard didn’t hear him. Instead, he looked genuinely shocked at my comment and leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. He didn’t know me to have strong reactions to anything. He knew ambivalence, and never desired much more than that.
Will sampled my wine, nodding. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said to the waiter. His gaze pinged between Gerard and me before digging into my salmon again. “What are you guys talking about?”
“Sea urchin,” I said, pushing the plate closer to Will. I didn’t need him leaning against me right now.
“Santorini,” Gerard corrected. “You thought I was talking about sea urchin?”
This was the problem with handling two opponents at once: one of them was going to see your hand if you took down the other. Ultimately, it was about assessing the greatest risk. Right now, I couldn’t decide whether it was Will or Gerard.
“You don’t like sea urchin,” Will said, pointing his fork in my direction. He turned to Gerard. “She’s very particular about the fish she eats. Won’t touch most of it. I’m surprised she even ordered salmon, but then again…” He looked around the restaurant. “Apparently this is a seafood place.”
“You don’t like fish?” Gerard asked.
“I’ve mentioned that,” I said. A few hundred times.
“Do you remember that shrimp thing we had in D.C.? With the butter and garlic?” Will asked. “That was amazing.” He turned to Gerard. “Best I’ve ever had. With this lady right here.”
“How long have you two known each other?” Gerard asked.
Will jumped in before I could respond. “A few years,” he said, ignoring my eye roll. “My sister married Shannon’s brother, Matt.”
“And you’ve spent most of that time overseas,” I clarified.
“Although I’m with you whenever I’m stateside,” he said with a pointed look. “Always.”
Gerard clasped his hands in his lap. “I should let you two catch up.”
I started to protest but there was no reason. I didn’t want to spend any more time with Gerard, and that mess had to end here. Whether I wanted to spend time with Will was a different story.
“I’ll walk you out,” I said, standing.
“I’ll be right here,” Will called, pointing to the table.
I flipped him off as I stepped away.
“He must have so many rich stories of culture,” Gerard mused as we neared the door. “To embed one’s self in a foreign land and serve the greater good, that must be a defining experience.”
“Yeah, something like that,” I murmured. It wasn’t that I disagreed with Gerard. I just wanted to get a word in edgewise so I could kick him out of the nest and get on with my life. “So listen. You’re a smart, successful guy, and I know you’ve had a rough year with the divorce. You have so many interests and tons of knowledge, and a lot to offer. I want to make sure you find someone who brings similar things to the table. I’m not that person.”
He ran his hands down his lapels before shoving them in his pockets. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I was doing you a favor.”
“You were what?” I asked.
“I figured you wanted an arrangement that served your career,” he said. His tone implied that I should have known exactly what he was talking about. “You’re not going to start something traditional at your age, and you require companionship for appearances.”
“That is a truly ingenious spin,” I murmured.
“Of course, public appearance also supports my work, and you’re attractive enough and have great contacts, so it wasn’t completely one-sided.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and brought my fingers to my temples. “I really know how to find the winners,” I said to myself. “It was a time, Gerard. Best of luck to you.”
He nodded and moved toward the door. “Give my regards to the captain.”
“Yeah, of course,” I murmured. I waited while he hailed a cab, returning his wave when he hopped in. “At my age. That motherfucker.”
Shifting, I found Will staring at me from across the restaurant. He wasn’t wearing the open, animated smile he used on Gerard. He was calm yet more serious than I’d ever seen him, his intense gaze taking root inside me and curling around my bones and organs. I marched back to him, plotting how I’d torture him for these antics.
“I have many questions,” I said as I settled into my seat, “though the first must be this: how did you know I’d be here?”
Will ran his knuckles over my thumb, and I really wanted to ignore the electricity behind his touch. “An operator never divulges his methods.”
“The universe needs to help a bitch out,” I groaned. “First I get the ‘Listen, lady, you’re old as fuck but not so washed up that I won’t be seen in public with you’ line. And then it’s a stubborn SEAL who’s made a home for himself in my guest room. How is this my life? Which God did I anger?”
“Is that what he said to you?”
I shook off his question. I was done rehashing. “Let’s review the facts, William. You’ve invited yourself to my gym and dinner dates. You’re staying in my apartment. I believe you’ve been doing my laundry, which means you’ve touched my panties, and I don’t recall inviting you to do that. I can only imagine how you’ve defiled them. You’ve offered exactly zero details about your sudden appearance, and now you’re pulling the black ops card. Does that sound right to you?”
He bit into a spear of asparagus and inclined his head toward me. “Yes, ma’am.”
I waved my hand in his direction, expecting more. “This would be the opportunity to expand on that.”
“I believe that all depends on what constitutes defiled in your book,” he said.
My hands curled to fists and I blew out a snarling breath. “You might be the most repulsive person I’ve ever met.”
“Anything for your praise, peanut.” He set his fork down and glanced at me. “I picked up the tab while you were talking to Lord of the Douches. Let’s get out of here. You can tell me about that conversation on the ride home.”
This asshole.
“You know what’s great about that comment? Its complete refusal to answer my question,” I said.
With my coat slung over my arm and my purse in hand, I stormed out of the restaurant. I didn’t want everything about Will to drive me crazy, but it was like my judgment and self-control flew out the window when we were in the same zip code. I couldn’t be near him without being a little insane, and that scared me because this man could convince me to do almost anything.
I knew he was behind me, and I was certain he was watching—all patient and amused, like I was a puppy lost under a blanket—while I attempted to navigate the North End’s uneven cobblestone streets, wrestle my arms into my coat, and dig through my purse for keys, all at once. The alarm chirped when my fingers landed on the car’s remote start button, and the vehicle roared to life.
Will slipped into the passenger seat without a word, and kept his eyes glued on the windshield even when I slammed my door with enough force to rock the car. I was a slammer and a stomper, and though I knew those reactions had drama queen written all over them, that was how I rolled.
He closed his hand into a fist and then splayed his fingers out, exhaling heavily as he repeated the motion, and asked, “What did you say to the Douchelord back there?”
“I’m not answering your questions until you answer mine,” I said.
“You let him down easy,” Will said. “How’d he take it?”
“Allow me to repeat myself: come clean or choke on my dick.”
“Those are interesting choices,” he murmured.
The short journey back to my apartment building seemed infinite, filled with slow pedestrians and quick-changing stoplights, and I could only assume it was the universe’s way of getting back at me for letting things linger this long with Gerard.
I knew why I ignored his obnoxious tendencies, and why I overlooked our complete lack of chemistry. He was Will’s opposite in so many ways, but most importantly, he never made me feel much of anything. And I wanted it that way. I couldn’t function with all of this emotion rippling right at the surface. I could manage anything when it came to my family and my work, but I couldn’t handle feeling fucking ravenous for one man.
After stomping from the garage to the elevator to my apartment, I glanced at Will while unlocking the door. “I’m finished with these games. No more stalking.”
I headed straight for the dining room, away from the cozy sectional in the den where I wanted to curl up with some wine and The X-Files. The den was too centrally located and I’d been avoiding it since Will arrived; it begged for him to come in and join me. I knew the distance between us would evaporate, and I didn’t trust myself to be strong when his open arms beckoned.
My coat was hanging haphazardly from a chair back while I rummaged in my bag. It served as the catchall for my necessities: laptop, small notebook, makeup bag, hairbrush, phone charger, long-forgotten Kind bars, keys to everywhere, and a deck of business cards. I didn’t know what I was looking for but it didn’t matter. I took it all out, slammed it on the gorgeous antique Chippendale table that Patrick salvaged from a property we restored nine years ago. It was before I bought this apartment, and there was no way the twelve-seat set was fitting in my tiny walk-up rental, but I couldn’t bear to see it go. Instead, it moved between our investment properties, serving as an odd—yet completely fitting—mascot for our fledgling business.
“Drop the act, Ally McBeal. Dinner with the Douchelord was about as pleasant as an aesthesia-free wisdom tooth extraction, and you were thrilled that I saved you from hate-glaring at him any longer. He annoyed the ever-loving fuck out of you, and I give you credit for sticking it out this long. You’d be an outstanding hostage.” He laughed. “Now give it up: you told him you craved my cock and couldn’t live without it, right?”
“You are such an obnoxious bastard.” I started shoving things back in my bag, and though I was trying to organize that mess, it was much, much worse than before. “Why are you here? Why are you in my apartment when your sister is across town and would happily take you in? What do you want from me, Will?”
He released a humorless laugh. “Me staying with Lo is an invitation to kill your brother in his sleep. If you’re good with that, say the word and I’ll pack up.”
I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath. “Why. Are. You. Here?”
“Pissing you off is amusing as fuck.”
“Original. Really original.” I threw my hands up but didn’t turn to face him. “After all this time, you’re at my door, and you just presume I’m going to rip my clothes off and jump into your arms. Please. I expect more from you than this.”
“Get over here and sit on my face and you’ll get plenty more,” he said.
I dropped my back-up phone charger into my bag and stared at the table’s wood grain, fuming. Then I did the first thing that came to mind. I grabbed a lime from the decorative bowl in the center of the table, pivoted, and winged it at Will’s head. The element of surprise worked in my favor, and it pinged right off his skull.
“Holy mother of fucking Christ, Shannon! What the hell was that?” he cried, his fingers pressed against his forehead.
“Enough,” I yelled, reaching for another lime. It shot out from my hand, and then another, and they landed square on his chest. “I’ve had enough of your quippy comments and your grocery shopping and your entire existence as I know it.”
Will tumbled over the backside of the sofa, ducking when another lime flew in his direction. He popped up, two limes caught in his palm, and he pointed at me. “You’ve got a cannon for an arm, peanut,” he said, laughing. “But don’t think I won’t throw these right back at you.”
The bowl was far from empty. There were probably another twenty limes, and right now, I wasn’t above chucking the Waterford crystal dish at his head either. “You don’t have the balls,” I said. “And I would know because the last time I went looking for them, all I could find was a big, sloppy vagina.”
“You are so asking for it,” he said.
The fruit flew across the room and struck my outer thigh, and fuck me sideways, those things hurt. I yelped, and fired another at Will, catching him on the shoulder. He dropped back behind the protective wall of the sofa and mumbled a long, imaginative string of curses. He was only down a moment, and when he reappeared, two more limes pelted my legs.
And then it was all-out war.
Fruit whizzed back and forth between the rooms while we swore and insulted each other like never before. We were sweaty and breathless, and my apartment was thoroughly ransacked. The one upside: everything smelled like fresh citrus.
“You’re getting spanked tonight, peanut,” he called as a lime whizzed toward me and connected with my boob. My freaking boob.
“What kind of pussy aims for my tits?” I screamed, rubbing the offended breast. I pointed to my chest. “These are off-limits to you in every possible way, you dirty hooker.”
“Sorry, I was distracted by that giant dick you like shoving down my throat,” he said, and sent another fruit sailing toward my hip.
“You should be thankful it’s not your ass,” I said, and aimed a lime at his crotch.
It missed, and he pinned me with a fierce gaze, his shoulders squared, and his arm extended in my direction. “Don’t you dare,” he warned. “I will take you down, little girl.”
Of course, I fired the last three limes at the same target. He was quick, and rushed toward me as I threw, twisting and shifting his body to avoid the assault. He tackled me to the ground, his weight heavy on my hips as he anchored my hands over my head. I gulped, praying he wouldn’t rock forward and press his cock to my center because a girl—even a bossy, bitchy girl who knew how to bury all her feelings under a mountain of guilt and control it all—could only take so much.
“You’re a vicious little gremlin sometimes, you know that?” he murmured. “And now that you’ve worked that shit out of your system, we’re going to talk.”
A groan rumbled in his throat, a roll of thunder that rattled between us, and I held myself rigid, bracing for the bolt of lightning that was sure to come. His lips landed on my neck, and in quick succession, I flinched and tilted my head to give him better access. I couldn’t be more conflicted; I wanted him but we were wrong for each other in every possible way. It didn’t matter that our anatomy did nice things when it came together.
“If you have to hold me down, it doesn’t exactly qualify as a free-flowing conversation, commando. You’re teetering into the land of interrogation. Coercion, even.”
“Yeah? All this time, I thought you liked it,” he said, his teeth scraping over my skin. There wasn’t much I could refuse when I had two hundred pounds of hard, neck-kissing man on top of me. “You’re probably thinking about me holding out.” He rocked his hips against me, and that was the cock I missed having in my life. “That’s it. You hate it when I hold out. You still love it when I hold you down.”
There was always a tipping point when Will and I were together, a moment that crossed the line from sparring into sex. I was standing on that line now, and though the inertia of this night was pushing us forward, I leaned back. “Please. Just tell me why you came.”
Will sensed the shift, pulling away from my neck. “You keep asking that as if you don’t know. I might not have arrived on time, but I promised you I was coming back.”
“I’m not going to change,” I said. “And I’m not going to choose.”
“Shannon, I’ve never asked you to change.” He sat back on his knees, smoothing his hands down his legs. “You’re the only one who thinks you have to choose.”
That wasn’t how I remembered it. I remembered my universe torn apart at the seams, and I remembered failing at the one thing I cared about most.
I caught a glimpse of the living room. “You better get started cleaning this up,” I said. “I don’t want lime juice stains on my rugs.”
His eyes met mine in challenge, and that spark of something—oh, the line between love and hate had never been so fine—that I still held for him urged me to give up the fight. He saw it too.
“The Douchelord was a placeholder. A seat-filler. I don’t blame you for a minute of it, but I need to know it’s over. If it’s not, I’m going to find him and I’m going to end it for you.”
“It’s precious that you’re so hot for Gerard.” I nodded, shifting to my feet and heading down the hallway. “Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s back on the market. I wouldn’t put any energy into chasing him, though. I don’t think you’re his type. He likes them young.”
Will flopped to the side and dragged a hand over his face. “Yeah, I’m gonna kill him.”
My heart was pounding pounding pounding when I closed the door behind me, and all these emotions were crawling their way to the surface. But I didn’t want to fight them anymore.
My clothes hit the floor while I changed into a cozy set of flannel pajamas. I scrubbed the makeup from my face and tied my hair back, all while telling myself that I could handle boys—even commando boys—better than anyone.
The door clanged behind me when I emerged from my bedroom, but Will didn’t move. He was flat on his back with a hand pressed to his shoulder and his eyes closed. “I’m watching Orange is the New Black. You probably won’t like it but you’re welcome to join me as long as you can promise you won’t wrestle me to the ground again.”
“Will you be throwing anything?” he called.
“Haven’t decided yet,” I responded. I tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave and poured some wine. “Aren’t commandos supposed to be able to handle a few flying objects?”
Will popped to his feet when the microwave sounded, and he followed me into the den, his gaze skeptical. “I’ve never had a lime thrown at me before.”
I pointed at the far end of the leather sofa while I queued up the series to the last episode I watched. “You can sit there.”
“And where are you sitting?” he asked.
“Over here.” I wedged into the opposite end, tight against the armrest.
“I’d rather be on your side,” he said. “With you. And the popcorn.”
I hugged the bowl to my chest. “Get your own.”
“You beat the shit out of me with citrus and called me a dirty hooker. The least you can do is share your popcorn.”
I set the bowl on the cushion between us, cranked up the volume, and turned my attention to the show. It took Will a little time to stop sending me loaded glances and pay attention to the episode, but it wasn’t long before he was laughing with me. He asked me to pause and catch him up on the story lines, and joined my running commentary about the characters.
“Is this what people mean when they say ‘Netflix and chill’?” he asked, and I almost dropped my wine in the process. There were odd bits of pop culture that Will missed out on while he was deployed.
“No,” I said. “No, that’s something else. Something different.”
“Either way,” he murmured, “this is surprisingly good.”
We watched the last half of the season, and when I announced that I needed my beauty rest, he gave me a sad smile, patted my head, and retreated to the guest room without a word.
When I plugged in my phone for the night, I was surprised to see a recent text from him.
Will: What are you doing?
Shannon: Getting into bed. Why?
Will: At least tell me what you said to Douchelord
Shannon: None of your fucking business
Will: You threw two dozen limes at me tonight
Shannon: …and your point?
Will: Have I not earned the information?
Shannon: I told you. He’s back on the market. That’s more than enough intel
Will: You’re there. I’m in here. One of us is in the wrong place.
Shannon: You sound like you’re 13 and trolling on pinterest
Shannon: Your text game has suffered
I closed the text window, and opened a new one to Andy and Lauren.
Shannon: sorry ladies. Have to skip lunch tomorrow…errr it’s today now. Headed to Swampscott for an open house. Have a mimosa for me. Or six.
I often bowed out of our weekend lunches for property shopping. They wouldn’t think anything of it as I’d skipped most outings in recent months, and I wouldn’t have to look Lauren in the eye and conceal the fact her brother was in my apartment, recovering from a fruiting attack. It wasn’t the same as concealing the fact I’d hooked up with the very same brother for months, or that I’d omitted huge portions of the truth when she inquired about my travels. She’d be pissed at me about the weekends, but she’d strangle us both if she found out he was in town and avoiding her.
Staring at my phone, I debated firing off some hostile texts to Gerard. I didn’t believe in kicking corpses and I didn’t have the time or patience for vengeance, but someone needed to throw a flag on the play he ran tonight.
“Such a dick weasel,” I said, studying his name in my contact list. Deleting him was the smarter option. The last thing I needed was Mr. Pemberton whispering about my old, dried-up prune of a pussy all over town. “But I can send a case of herbal erectile dysfunction pills to your office.”
The door burst open, and Will—wearing only boxers and a t-shirt—leaned on the handle. “What the hell are you doing in here? Who are you talking to?”
I was still amused by the idea of Gerard getting a shipment of boner stimulants in his swanky office, and couldn’t shut down the giggles. “There’s nothing wrong with talking to myself. It was an important conversation.”
His eyes swept the room, and he shook his head before switching off the lamp. He stopped beside the bed, his fingertips tapping the duvet, and sighed. “You’re the weirdest one in your family, right? Tell me it doesn’t get any worse than this.”
My body was committed to the giggles now, much like jumping off a diving board. All the ridiculousness of this week catalyzed into laughter, and soon I was hugging my sides while my eyes watered. “Not even close,” I stammered.
Will muttered something under his breath and climbed into bed beside me. His arms wrapped around me, strong and warm and safe, and I didn’t push him away. How could I? How could I find the strength to protest when my heart required this, when I’d spent the week stewing in my anger but wanting nothing more than this, when I’d spent months numbing myself to the memories of this.
I kept going back to that first night we were together, before the wedding, and how he could take me away from everything in my mind. I needed it then; I wanted it now.
Even if my head was busy mounting a bulletproof offensive.
“Now, listen to me,” he said. “I’m here for you—”
“I don’t want to talk right now,” I said, hiccupping as the giggles subsided. “Just keep your shorts on, don’t try to slip it in, and don’t make it weird.”
Will brushed my hair over my shoulder and kissed my jaw. “Sure you don’t want to tell me what you said to the Douchelord?”
“Why should I start giving you what you want now?” I asked. His thumbs worked the knots in my neck, and he had my eyes crossing in bliss.
“Because somewhere in your feisty little gremlin heart, you care about me,” he said. “And I’m not letting go until you remember that. I’ve told you before: I’m not giving up.”
*
Will was busy flipping pancakes in the kitchen when I dragged myself out of bed the next morning. He handed me a plate and turned back to the stove without discussion. We’d slept together, perfectly civil and clothed, and it’d felt like my universe was sliding into its rightful orbit again.
Not that I was sharing that sentiment with Will. Not yet.
When I took a bite, I realized these pancakes were filled with raspberries. I couldn’t remember ever telling him that I preferred raspberry, or ordering pancakes with him. I stared at the wedge on my fork, confused. People didn’t just toss raspberries into pancakes. Blueberries had that market on lock.
“Hey,” I called. “About—”
“You mentioned it in Montauk,” he yelled into the dining room. “Eat.”
I promised myself it was just pancakes, nothing bigger or more symbolic, and only staged a small revolt when Will invited himself on my open house hunt.
“How does this work?” he asked as I merged onto the highway, heading north.
“What? Open houses? Or me tolerating your existence?”
Will turned his head, glaring at me. “The open house,” he said. “You just walk around and decide whether you like it? Or have you already decided that you’re buying? Is there a bidding war, and if so, I’m very interested in watching you eviscerate people.”
“No bidding wars. Not unless it’s an auction, and we aren’t going to any of those today,” I said, waving at the quaint homes along the coastal road. “Most of the time, I hear about properties before they come on the market. There are a lot of pocket listings—when an agent has an agreement with the seller but the property isn’t listed—and there are also a number of investors who buy and hold. None of this is public, and those are usually the ones I want. But today, we’re seeing a home that has been on the market for over a year and will happily sell below the asking price.”
I pulled up at a graying Colonial that didn’t look like it could limp through another winter. The location was magnificent; I could hear waves crashing against Swampscott’s rocky shoreline from the driveway, and the Galloupes Point neighborhood was hot without falling prey to the trendy trap. If this home was waiting for a buyer after all this time, either the seller was inflexible or it was a sneeze away from falling off this cliff and into the ocean. Or both.
“Don’t break anything,” I said to Will as we approached the door. “No commando tactics, please.”
“Your call,” he murmured, his hands raised. “I was going to run some breaching drills, but hell, if you don’t want me knocking down doors, I won’t.”
The agent spotted us and turned on his sales smile as he marched in our direction. “It would be best if you didn’t,” I whispered.
“Good morning,” the agent called. “You’re really in for a treat with this property. It was built in 1921, one of the first homes on the Point, all original floors and fixtures, and can you say ocean views? This neighborhood is always in demand, and it’s wonderful for growing families, too.” He smiled at us purposefully, and I reached into my tote for a business card. “What are we looking for today?”
He was wearing a shiny badge engraved with his name and agency, and I gave him a patient smile with my card. “My client here,” I gestured to Will, “is looking for something to restore. He’s a big fan of sustainable preservation, isn’t that right?”
“Huge fan,” he agreed. “The biggest fan.”
“He’s also looking for a place to wrestle whales and break rocks with his bare hands, so naturally,” I said, gesturing to the beach, “this listing came to mind.”
“Please, feel free to explore the home,” the agent said, flustered. He handed Will a folder filled with glossy images of the home from all the right angles.
The first floor was as I expected: worn, dated, dark. As the agent promised, the views were incredible, and I found myself walking through the kitchen and onto the grassy patio that bordered the ocean. The home sat on a parcel of land that curved out into the sea like a hook, and it created a safe harbor from the choppy Atlantic.
“Those are killer waves,” Will said from behind me. His chest was close enough to my back that I felt his presence, his warmth, but not his touch. “And I bet—” He pointed over my shoulder, to the craggy stone projecting into the sea, “—you’d find some shipwrecks out there.”
If I leaned back, I’d be in his arms and…I couldn’t decide whether I wanted that. “Why?”
“There’s a sandbar out there.” He gestured to the ocean, but I couldn’t discern anything but waves. “It’s probably only visible at the lowest tide. And that outcropping? The rocks? They extend about a quarter mile from the shore. No sailing vessels are getting into this cove in one piece.”
“I’ll be sure to add that to the marketing materials,” I said. “I’m sure those are real selling points.”
“This is not cheap,” Will murmured, flipping through the folder. He pointed at the seven-figure listing price. “You can afford this?”
I spared the sheet a quick glance. “Me? Or the firm?”
“It’s funny how you’re recognizing a distinction now,” he said. “I didn’t realize one existed.”
“Maybe you didn’t look close enough.” Turning back to the kitchen door, I said, “I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t afford it. Me and the firm, but I’m thinking about this for my investment portfolio.”
“That sounded really pretentious, peanut. Your investment portfolio,” Will repeated. He watched while I opened the dining room’s built-in cabinetry, and crouched down with me to study the underside of a shelf. “What are we looking for?”
“Original craftsman marks,” I said. I found what I wanted, and stood, turning my attention to the windowpanes. “It looks authentic, but I always check.”
“Nothing here is straight,” Will said, waving at the curved wall of windows. “That seems…different.”
I ran my hand along the window sash, nodding. “Every room was designed to face the ocean. Typical in this area.” I pointed to the staircase. “Come on. More to see.”
Whenever I toured homes, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about the people who lived there. I wondered about their lives and their families, how they made it through good days and bad, whether they were content. I was always trying to nail down the happy home, the one that was well-loved rather than hard-worn, the one that breathed joy and comfort from the foundation up, the one that weathered storm and sunshine alike.
I couldn’t rest my hands on a single reason to love this battered Colonial, but as I circled back through all four floors, I knew I did. This was one of those homes that spoke to me in little whispers, saying, “Show me some love and I’ll sparkle for you.” I elected to park myself in the butler’s pantry and pull out my laptop to research the comparable sales.
“This is a decent place,” Will said, opening the cabinets and looking inside. “Good tactical vantage point.”
“What?” I murmured.
“Two hundred and seventy degrees of rocky oceanfront at the end of a cul-de-sac,” he said. “Highly defensible, and the beach is prime.”
“Well, when we’re finished restoring it, I’ll sell it to you,” I said, scribbling some numbers in my notebook. “I’ll even forfeit my commission.”
“Ah, yes. There’s that heart of gold I know and love,” he said, moving onto another section of cabinets.
“Get out of there,” I said, swatting his hands. “We’ve already determined they’re legit. Your big paws are going to break something.”
Will held up his hands. “My big paws are very nimble.”
We walked out two hours later with the house under contract. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it yet, and gave myself the short trip back to the city to ponder. Will and I ate dinner while working through the rest of Orange is the New Black, and there was no debate about where he was sleeping.
He was a demanding pain in the ass, but he wasn’t without his merits. He cooked breakfast after we jogged back from the gym every morning the following week, and there were days when I was almost too stubborn to eat anything. Almost.
Aside from him cleaning (and confusing the fuck out of my housekeeper by flashing her, paying her, and sending her home) and fixing things (and making comments about my useless brothers), we didn’t talk about much more than my Netflix queue.
He started waiting outside my office in the evenings to walk me home. It was really fucking reckless, considering Lauren was a frequent visitor at Walsh Associates and she still didn’t know he was in town, but I liked that he cared about me, even when I was shutting him out.
It reminded me of something I’d do.