20. Esme

20

ESME

C lasping the clip in my hair, I growl as the contractor explains the timeline ahead.

"Are you sure?" I double-check as we stand in my living room that has now been cleared and is ready for renovation.

Steve, the man in his thirties, stares at me with pain in his expression and a pencil behind his ear. "We keep running into more issues. We need to rebuild the wall and redo the floors, and it's best to do that in every room downstairs. Redoing the electrical won't be easy, as this is an older home, and we have to start from scratch due to the fire. Not to mention, it will take at least six to twelve weeks for your kitchen cupboards to arrive once ordered. Then there is the fact that we also have drywall to hang, and the cement on the ground floor needs to set."

I gave up on listening to his list when he mentioned twelve weeks. "So, when you add all of that together?" I'm afraid to ask.

His head falls as he checks his thoughts. "For sure six months. I know your insurance will cover everything, but that can't speed up infrastructure."

My palm flies up to stop him. "I'm aware," I say sadly.

"You have it better than your neighbor. Their contractor is a friend, and he said they are basically going to fix up the basics and resell. It's too much work for them."

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I remind myself to count my blessings. "Mrs. Tiller is going to live with her daughter. As spunky as that old woman is, this could probably have all been avoided if she, well, maybe… It doesn't matter. Here I am with a boarded-up wall."

He humors me and takes a few steps to place his moisture measurement tool against the one wall still intact; he already told me his findings but maybe he feels the need to confirm again. "I'm sorry, Esme. There is also damage from when the fire department put out the fire. A lot of moisture that needs to be cleared."

Rubbing my face, I remember that my expectations were aligned with this conversation, but it still hurts to actually be confronted with it. Following Steve to the front door, there is nothing more to say. "Well, thank you again. I guess… go ahead and fix everything further that surprises us. We don't have much other choice."

We walk out into the sun, and I close the door behind me. Stopping near his truck, we finish up our conversation.

"We'll get on it next week since we need to adjust our schedule. My crew is finishing up a job in the next few days. Normally, we are booked up, but I would rather take on this big project than a bunch of little projects."

I attempt to smile in appreciation, but the corners of my mouth only manage a tiny tilt. "Thanks for that. I'll make sure there is coffee and donuts."

"Much appreciated, but it's going to be a long few months, so don't you run up a donut bill from Foxy Rox," he jokes.

"Sure thing." Steve opens his car door, but as he is about to close it, a thought comes to me. "Hey… do you think that next week I can take the hammer to either nail something in or destroy something, anything to get out some frustration?"

It causes him to stifle a laugh. "Deal. You take care now."

"Thanks."

I sigh as he drives away and mope myself over to the street to check the mailboxes just as Keats rolls up in his car with his window down. He's home early.

"Did I get some of your mail again?" he says in jest.

My attempt to laugh is tempered by this afternoon's news. "Looks like you might be receiving my mail for a long time to come."

Keats has a peculiar look. "I'll meet you inside."

I lift my nose as a reply then open both boxes to find that no mail has been delivered today.

With a lack of energy, I head back inside to Keats's house. Something else is bothering me right now, but I just can't pinpoint it.

Walking to the kitchen, Keats came in via the side door and he's already setting his laptop bag on a stool.

"You really should use that desk you have. That kitchen chair is basically a shelf," I comment for the thousandth time. My low energy is sometimes when my wit comes out in full.

He licks his lips, trying to hold back a retort because he senses my low energy.

"The desk is waiting for you, if you want it. But someone said that's as big a step as making me a pie. Now, what happened?" He leans against the counter with ankles crossed as he unbuttons his cufflinks. It's my daily dose of Keats's natural swagger that is distracting and fills my body with an uncontrollable hunger for this man.

Fluttering the lids of my eyes, I remind myself to stay focused. "My house issue is a lot bigger than we thought. The contractor and I walked through now that the debris has been cleared. My next step is to head to a kitchen store. I'm not even sure where to begin with all of this. Perhaps I'm overwhelmed." Or it's something else simmering under the surface.

"Hmm, well, did you really think it would all be solved faster?"

My head bows low. "No. It's just… you're being very kind for me to stay here, but this is going to be a lot longer than planned and maybe…" Is this what is bothering me?

Keats doesn't move; instead, he has a cunning look, the kind that can chain me down. "You think it's an issue?"

Rolling my eyes to the side, I hate that he has a key to my thoughts. "Perhaps."

"Hmm." He is making that sound again because he already has a theory in his head and he's sticking to it. "It's not an issue."

"It could be months," I recap what I learned today.

His facial expression remains poised. "And?"

My tongue glides along my upper lip, trying to think of a better angle to approach this since I have a sexy statue in my presence. "We're kind of jumping into the deep end, maybe? It's only been a few weeks, and we now face the prospect that I'm not leaving anytime soon."

Now his face eases, except into a smirk which is just as damaging. "It's more than a month or two that we've been going back and forth, getting to know one another through spirited debate before we transpired with broken pearls on my hallway floor. "

Walking a delicate line, I approach him because everything is emerging from a cloud. "You're very right, but still, it's a step, and then when my house is ready, I move back." Is this me testing him?

Keats seems taken aback. "Oh… yeah… right. Makes sense. You have a house, after all." Is that disappointment I hear?

Then it dawns on me, that whisper inside me that wasn't clear. What it is that has me uneasy. The realization of the true reason I've been miserable today.

Because one day my house will be ready for me again.

Which means I won't be here.

Because I'm beginning to realize that my old simple life, where I was going through the motions day to day, now feels different. There is someone who causes me suddenly to see everything in a different light. It's excitement and wanting to be there for them.

I'm not the greatest at showing that, we've kind of only been together on the surface. We've avoided confronting what lies deep within.

"Silly, huh?" I attempt to laugh, but it's nimble and lacking honesty. I step closer to the man that is as good as a boyfriend if we are really going to call it like it is. My hands find a place on either side of his body, resting on the counter. He loops his arms around me to yank me close so our middles touch.

"I mean, we'll be neighbors who share a bed sometimes," I clarify, and the thought sounds like misery. I'm tiptoeing my words to build to what we really are.

More.

I want to be the same to him as the way he treats me.

Important to one another. Caring. Exhilarating each other.

"Neighbors." His jaw ticks. "I guess that's the case," he replies, his tone neutral. It doesn't help me in my attempt to assess where his mind is at.

Swallowing, I feel as though I put a damper on the mood. Keats arrived home early which means we can have dinner and open a bottle of wine. He will soon be away on a business trip for almost a week. But right now, neither one of us seem to be hungry.

"I have a house, after all," I'm nearly mute when I remind us both.

I'm beginning to want to scream desperately that I always want to stay here, house be damned.

But I'm afraid to say it.

Being hurt by someone who you lo— is new to me.

Keats gives me a tender kiss on my forehead before firmly setting his fingers on my shoulders. "Of course… I'm going to check up on some emails then pack."

He's avoiding me. He never packs so far in advance. He isn't leaving for a few days.

"Sure," I reply simply, but I'm disappointed inside.

I forgot to calculate another aspect of our dynamic.

Before we used to go in circles through sniping and glares at each other. Now we're in uncharted territory of communicating without a fight.

Our game was always who could bark the loudest. Now it's who dares to speak the truth first.

And I'm not sure it's me.

Hailey points to another tile on the wall as we peruse the store.

"Nah, I'm not a fan of the navy blue. The backsplash should be sleek and glossy white," I say .

It feels like hours as we explore the possibilities for my new home.

A home that is fading away to being simply called a house.

Her finger falls, and she quickly coughs into her arm. "Esme, six months ago you would have shown up here with a mood board. Today you look like a freaking ghost."

We continue to tread along the aisle. "I'm just tired. Keats is about to go away for work, and I think I've made it so everything feels kind of off. I'm positive it's because of the living situation."

"You're not being the ideal living partner? Getting annoyed with one another already?"

I shrug. "It's not that. It's more the murky waters we've found ourselves in, and I really need to clearly state what I want." Hailey sneezes again. "Geez, did you have to tag along with your disease?"

"Sorry," her response is nasally. "The worst is over. I was in bed with a temperature and stomach flu, then it stopped, but it's been replaced with this."

I throw her an unimpressed glare. "Thanks. Now you're spreading your germs to me."

"You'll be fine. You have the immune system of champions since you see clients all the time."

"I'm not on board with that logic, and I have a shoot to get through, so don't curse me." She chuckles at me since I'm being a little grouchy. "Anyhow, perhaps Keats going away for a few days is a good thing. A bit of breathing room. We've kind of been pedal to the metal and maybe haven't stopped to assess. We can't seem to slow down. And I need to prepare myself to be open with him."

I shake my head again when she points to another tile that is missing the glossy finish I want .

"I think you probably already know what it is you want long-term. It's just you literally have a house between you two. Empty houses can be confronting since it either needs to be sold or have someone living there. You two just decided to add a layer of complication, being in a relationship and neighbors. Surely, you can't be the first people to find themselves in this situation. Did you internet search this or something?" Her truth mixed with humor will keep me going this afternoon.

"Sure. I'm totally going to take advice from Jennifer in Ohio from my search results, who posted a message on some random message board," I answer.

Hailey grabs my arm to stop me. "Hot customer at twelve o'clock," she speaks in a hushed tone.

I step back due to her tenacity. "You only came with me to pick up guys?"

She laughs out loud. "Nah, but it never hurts to look at eye candy. He looks like a doctor our age who is remodeling his house. Perhaps has good taste, as he's surveying the subway tile." Hailey has a skill where she can sense everyone's backstory. Makes conversations interesting.

"Can we, uh, stay focused?"

Her sight returns to me with reverence in her eyes. "I am. You're two torrid lovers stuck at a crossroads to evaluate your relationship, even though it's blatantly obvious. For someone who is known to be ruthless in a suit, your gentleman suitor needs to step it up on the direct communication front and share his views on the relationship issue of where you two are heading next. Meanwhile, my dear friend is too petrified to be the first to jump in, but she knows what she wants and is preparing to tell him. Anything else I need to know?"

I have a wry smile due to her evaluation that is spot-on. " Every time you talk to me, doesn't it feel as though I'm constantly assessing my situation?"

Hailey smirks to herself. "That's because you want only one thing and that's a future with him," she casually voices her views before pointing at another tile option.

A future.

That is what I see.

It makes me giddy and excited. Scared yet ecstatic. The logistics can be figured out later because my priority now is to make my feelings clear. Not just about where we are in a moment but where we are heading.

I've never been afraid of Keats before. He was always my sparring partner.

All the more reason I should avoid the idea that it's daunting to lay it all out and instead take the plunge.

I will admit everything.

Now I just hope he feels the same.

Keats leans over me upside down as I lie on the sofa. He kisses my forehead, and his palm glides down my cheek before he returns to standing.

"Go away," I growl. My entire body aches, my nose is stuffy, and my ability to think clearly is muffled by my headache.

"Someone is a little frosty today." He smirks.

I have no energy to protest. "I just don't want to get you sick." Hailey needs to be cursed for infecting me.

"You're going to be okay while I'm away?" He's already unfolding the throw blanket on the chair arm and splaying it on top of me before I can even answer.

I'm kind of frustrated that I've been under the weather since last night. All ability to proclaim my feelings has kind of fallen off the table. Plus, Keats is occupied with his trip.

"I'll be fine. I'm just going to down some medicine like it's tequila and sleep," I assure him.

"I hope you feel better soon."

Me too.

I haven't forgotten the emotion inside of me that swirls like a hurricane ready to be unleashed, but I want the setting to be right and not when I have a killer headache and stuffy nose.

Propping myself onto my forearms, I watch as he winds up the cord to his phone charger to tuck into his laptop pocket. "When you get back maybe we can have an evening in and talk?" I ask.

He nearly drops the charger as his brows furrow. "Something I need to worry about?"

I smile because I realize my choice of words might send his thoughts into different directions. "No, I just thought a week apart is good for us. A chance to take a breath and not let our thoughts be jaded by our current situation." My eyes swim around the room. "As in me living under your roof and, of course, logistics, really."

Keats remains poised, but his eyes darken. "Right, we need to talk about that. I guess not letting you escape and tying you to a bed won't be a sustainable solution." His smile is weak, but that just means he's covering his true thoughts.

Still, I half laugh, and it turns into a cough, but when it clears, my smile returns. "Just a talk," I promise. Except to tell you I really feel for you. An uncontrollable outpouring of contentment to be with you, full-on. I'm beginning to believe that L-word is only meant for you.

"I guess you're right, about the whole space thing," he speaks .

Oh , maybe I just shot myself in the foot and life isn't so promising.

Except Keats parades back to me, and I'm melting. "Distance does things to people. Knowing you and me, it will lead us down an unusual path." The man actually swoops up my hand to kiss. What a chaste and saccharine gesture.

"You're really being annoying." I grin.

"Oh, but you love it." He pecks my lips quickly before he saunters away to his luggage in the entryway to the living room. "If there is anything then just call," he reminds me and gently knocks on the frame of the door.

I want to burst out what I'm holding in.

There is something.

All I ever want is you.

Alas, I save my words for when he gets back.