Page 116 of Now and Then

Thinking about everything I’m juggling makes my heart beat quickly. I place my palm over the middle of my chest. Even without trying, every worry about the remodel, Hunter’s case, the party, and my regular work tangles with that little drop of fear that one thing could decimate it all.

Hunter’s hand is warm as he grasps my thigh and squeezes in that subtle I’ve got you way. I place my hand over his and squeeze back. A warmth radiates from him, quieting the restless storm brewing inside me. Not because I think he can fix all my problems. Not because he promises nothing bad will happen. But because I know he’ll be right next to me through whatever comes our way.

I slowly exhale, interlacing our fingers, and turn my focus back to my girlfriends. His thumb rubs soothing circles on top of my hand.

For the second time tonight, that little thread of worry constantly wrapped around my heart loosens more, sending a wave of calm through my whole body.

Two days later, I unlock Hunter’s front door, still feeling lighter than I probably should. Maybe it’s the murmured baby girl against my skin last night. Maybe it’s the way Hunter held me afterward, whispering I love you when he thought I’d fallen asleep. Maybe it’s the way he left a cup of coffee on the bedside table before he left for work. Maybe it’s the way he holds me together. Whatever it is, I don’t mind it one bit.

But the moment I step inside the foyer, something feels off.

It’s cooler than usual, air stale from us not sleeping here the last two nights. We’d had too much fun at trivia night, and it was easier to catch an Uber to my mom’s house. A haze and faint smell of sawdust hangs in the hallway, mixing with the crisp bite of morning air drifting in from the cracked kitchen window.

The kitchen walls are halfway done being painted a soft gray. And the color on the walls looks much different from the gray in the can. That’ll be another thing on my list of things to fix.

Then, I hear it.

A soft drip echoes somewhere inside the house.

Then another.

And another.

“Oh, hell no,” I say.

The sound leads me to the corner of the kitchen. There, under the ceiling’s seam, is a shallow puddle spreading across the hardwood floors. Water plinks steadily into it from above, each drop splashing onto nearby paint cans. My heart sinks as I spot the paint rollers, soaked with moisture.

Because of course, when you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, it will eventually.

My footsteps echo in the hollow house as I dash into the laundry room and gather old truck-washing towels from the cabinet. I toss them onto the puddle.

I curse at the water spreading on the ceiling, knowing exactly which room the leak is coming from. As soon as I open the guest bedroom door, dread fills my stomach. The ceiling is completely soaked through and some of the drywall has fallen down. There must be a crack in the roof that all the rainstorms from the last few days took advantage of. When I step into the room, the squelch of wet carpet fills my ears.

“Shit.”

My phone vibrates in the pocket of my trousers, the sound jarring in the quiet.

“Sutton Bradley,” I answer, forcing my voice to remain steady while I assess the damage from the rain.

“Hi, Sutton, it’s Elizabeth over here at Ember and Elm Catering,” she says. “How’s your morning going?”

“It’s very wet.”

“Oh, well, that’s . . .” There’s static on the other end. “Listen, I’m sorry, but—”

My stomach plummets at the sound of those three words. I’m sorry but . . . Nothing good ever comes after.

“—we’ve run into a bit of a problem with scheduling.”

Elizabeth goes on and on and on about the mix-up—something about double booking the open house and another event. Her voice is polite and clinical, but every word she utters feels like another brick stacked on my chest. “We’re pretty sure that we’ll have enough staff for both events, but with it being December, it might be tight. I know it’s not the greatest news, but I hope that’s okay?”

No, it’s most certainly not okay. “I understand,” I say. I end the call, look around the ruined bedroom, sunlight barely touching the floor as clouds fill the sky. Because of course, for once in his career, Weatherman Tim had to be right about this being a very wet fall.

By the time I get to the office, my nerves are shot. The office hums with fluorescent lights that have always been too bright, making everything look a little too sharp. I add office lighting to my list of things to fix.

Paint swatches, catering paperwork, and a mug of coffee that’s gone cold clutter my desk. The window behind me rattles from the storm blustering outside. “Stupid rain.”

I drop my bag on the floor and sink into my chair, tugging at the hem of my top. I traded in my typical girl boss attire today and instead went with a black blazer and a fitted, ribbed T-shirt tucked into high-waisted burgundy trousers that suddenly feel too tight around my ribs. One side of my hair is pulled back with a gold clip, the rest loose and wild around my shoulders. Between the leak, the bad news from the caterer, and all the pacing I did afterward, this outfit’s the best I could come up with.