Page 37 of Homewrecker

“No.”

When I answered questions about work, I usually had a polished response ready. I liked transforming spaces. I liked giving clients homes that reflected who they were. I loved seeing a vision become reality. But Nash looked at me like he had time for an answer beneath an answer.

“I like when people can’t explain what they want.”

He looked surprised. “That’s your favorite?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I thought about it for a second. “Because they usually know how they want to feel. They just don’t know what that looks like yet.”

He nodded slowly. “So you translate feelings into rooms.”

“Basically.”

“That’s kind of beautiful.”

I looked away because I felt exposed. So naturally, I went on offense.

“You do this with everybody?”

He frowned. “Do what?”

“Analyze them.”

“I wasn’t analyzing you.”

“Sounded like it.”

“I was listening.”

For one stupid second, I thought about Caleb. I’m listening. No. Absolutely not. I shut that door in my head so fast I nearly felt it slam.

“What about you?” I asked. “Why psychology?”

He glanced down. “Because people fascinate me.”

“That’s vague.”

“It is.”

“Try again.”

He smiled. “I grew up in a house where everyone loved each other and no one knew how to communicate.”

I stared at him. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It was.”

“Still together?”

“My parents?”

“Yeah.”

“Forty years.”