Page 81 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
My thoughts drift to Grandma’s house. There are memories embedded in every floorboard and window frame. I remember summer mornings picking berries in the garden, winter evenings curled up on the window seat with a book while Grandma baked in the kitchen. I remember feeling safe there after Mom left, feeling like I belonged somewhere.
“It’s more than just a house,” I say softly. “Did I tell you she left while I was at school? My mom. I was in first grade. She just dropped a bag of my clothes off at Grandma’s and said she couldn’t do it anymore. Grandma picked me up from school and said we were going to have a slumber party. Later, when it became apparent that Mom really wasn’t coming back, she told me that my mom had to go away, but I was going to live with her now. That I’d always have a home with her.” I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat. “That house… it’s a reminder that someone wanted me. That I wasn’t just some burden to be passed around or abandoned.”
Daniel’s expression softens, and he reaches out to squeeze my hand. “Then maybe it’s worth accepting help from any quarter to save it. Even from an ex.”
“Even if it means seeing him more? Being alone with him?” The thought makes my stomach flip in a way I’m not ready to examine too closely.
“Set boundaries,” Daniel suggests with a shrug. “Make it clear that this is a professional arrangement. Meet at the house only at specific times. Bring me, or your uncle, or Rachel as a buffer if you need to.”
“Rachel would love that,” I say with a small laugh. “She’s still volunteering to help hide Adam’s body if I need her to.”
“Your cousin is terrifying, and I say that with the utmost respect.”
“She is, isn’t she?” I grin, feeling some of the tension drain from my shoulders. “But you’re right. I can set boundaries. I can make it clear that this is just about the house.”
“And if it becomes more than that someday?” Daniel raises an eyebrow. “That’s entirely up to you. But at least this way, you get to see if he’s really changed while also potentially saving something that matters to you.”
I take a sip of my water, letting his words sink in. “Why are you so wise?”
“It’s just part of my charm, darling,” he says with a wink. “Comes with my devastatingly good looks.”
I laugh, grateful for his ability to lighten the mood. “Thank you. For the advice, and for listening.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
As we step outside into the bright afternoon sunshine, I feel lighter somehow. Daniel’s right; accepting Adam’s help doesn’t have to mean anything beyond that. I can set the terms, maintain my distance, protect my heart while still taking advantage of his skills.
“So, you’re going to do it?” Daniel asks as we walk toward the parking lot.
“I think so,” I nod. “I’ll talk to Uncle Peter tonight, get his take. But yeah, I think I am.”
“For what it’s worth, I think it’s the right call.” He stops beside his car, keys in hand. “Just remember, you’re in control here. You set the rules, the boundaries, everything. Don’t let him make you feel you owe him anything for this.”
“I won’t,” I promise.
As I watch him drive away, I think over my decision. This doesn’t mean forgiveness, I remind myself. It doesn’t meantrust. It doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. It’s just about the house. Just about saving something that matters to me.
* * *
I hover near the time clock, pretending to organize the stack of menus while watching Adam finish up with his last table. My palms feel damp, which is ridiculous. I’m just asking for help with a house, not proposing marriage. This is a transaction, not a reconciliation.
Adam gives his customers their check with that smile of his, the one that used to make my heart skip. It still does, if I’m being honest, but I’ve gotten better at ignoring it. He glances up, catches me watching, and his eyebrows lift slightly in question. I drop my gaze back to the stack of menus.
When I look up again, his table is empty, and he’s counting out his tip money at the server station. It’s now or never. I take a deep breath and walk over, conscious of keeping my steps measured, my expression neutral.
“Hey,” I say, sounding more tentative than I’d like.
He looks up, surprised. “Hey yourself.”
“Do you have a minute? Before you clock out?”
I can’t tell if it’s hope or wariness that flickers in his eyes. “Sure. What’s up?”
I glance around the nearly empty restaurant. The dinner rush is over, but there are still a few tables here, plus a couple of regulars nursing coffees at the counter. Still, this feels too public.
“Can we step outside for a minute?”
He nods, following me through the kitchen and out the back door into the small employee parking area. I turn to face him, clasping my hands in front of me to keep from fidgeting.
