Page 116 of Seasons of Love
I laugh. “You have to see past that. Pretend none of that is there and replace it with what you want to see.”
He puts his hands in his pockets and takes two steps away from me, walking in a semicircle. “I’ve never been much of a dreamer. I can read books and imagine what something looks like from the description on the page, but I’m not talented enough to make it up myself.”
He’s standing in the middle of the yard. And yes, there are broken pots and piles of god knows what. It’s a mess…a mess with potential.
“Close your eyes.”
“What?” He stares at me.
“Just go along with it.”
He narrows his eyes. A frown line appears in between his eyes, and I want to touch it so bad that I scrunch my hands into fists so I don’t give in to temptation and make this a lot more awkward.
“Okay. Fine,” he says, taking a breath and closing his eyes.
I flick a bug off his shoulder, which landed after he closed his eyes. I have a feeling Ellis would barricade himself in the house if he saw it.
“Why did you buy this house?” I ask.
He sighs. “Um…because it’s close to Alice’s place, and it was a good price because it needs some work. I’ve done some on the inside. Haven’t finished yet, which is why the outside, as you can see…”
“That’s the practical stuff. I want to know why this house. There are many other similar houses in the neighborhood.” I walk around him, wanting to touch his hair and see if it’s soft, feel his shoulders to see if they’re strong.
Stop it, Milo.
I have to remember this is about him. My financial future depends on this, however much I want to throw myself at him.
Christ, if only he knew the thoughts I have about him. He’d have a restraining order in place before the end of the day.
“This was the only house that felt like a home to me,” he says. “I’ve always wanted a family, and even though…um…it just felt right.”
He opens his eyes, and I wonder if I’ve accidentally touched on a sensitive subject.
“Nuh-uh. Close your eyes.”
He smiles but obeys.
“And in your dream home, what do you want to do in the backyard?” I ask.
“I want a space to relax. Somewhere I can sit and maybe do some work if the weather is nice. Have my family over.” He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“It’s a start.”
He opens his eyes again. We’re face to face, on the verge of something.
My mom used to call these life-defining moments. When nothing would be the same again because whatever happens will change you as a result, and you can’t stop it from happening.
Ellis’s gaze is warm but firm. He’s someone who knows what he wants, and just like the time at the soup kitchen, my eyes are held captive.
A shiver runs up my spine, and I know this is one of those moments. Inconsequential but irreversible.
“When can you start?”
“What?”
“When can you start?”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. “But…you haven’t asked me any questions. How do you know I can do the job?”
