14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Max

T he Virginia sun was brutal, the day scorching hot, and I was tired of being outdoors. I'd had enough by one in the afternoon and we still had at least three hours of work to do. The house looked amazing though. Floors were going in and it felt like all we had was some paint left, even though there was still a long checklist of to-do items—exterior work, landscaping, cabinetry, painting, fixtures, inspections… the list went on. Regardless, it was looking more and more like a house every day—which meant we were inching closer to the job being done. The thought gave me a stomachache, knowing that soon I'd have to make a decision between Jake and whatever my next job turned out to be. All I could do was hope things turned out in my favor.

Between the heat and my worrying about the show ending, the day felt eternal. By the time we were ready to knock off for the day, I was desperate for air conditioning and something cold that wasn't alcohol. I wanted ice cream.

When Jake stopped by the trailer as I was locking up, I brightened. He was sexy despite the relentless sun, his damp hair and glistening face a relief to see.

"Hey," he said quietly, glancing around. We were the last ones on site and he stepped in close and pressed a kiss to my lips.

I smiled widely. "What was that for?"

He shrugged and looked around again. "Just felt like it."

I pocketed the keys to the trailer and we headed toward our vehicles. "Well, I'm glad you did. What are you up to tonight?"

"I'm supposed to hang out with the guys later tonight, but nothing until then."

"Want to go get ice cream with me? We can discuss these letters."

"That sounds like a great idea."

One quick shower later and I was meeting Jake at Arctic Delights, an ice cream shop in historic downtown Port Grandlin. We ordered quickly—birthday cake flavor for me, and to my surprise, Jake ordered honey lavender—and we took seats outside to enjoy our purchases.

"Where are you with the research?"

I leaned forward and dropped my voice to a whisper. "I found him. Nathan. I'm pretty sure I know who he was."

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Who?"

"I kept following land deeds and census records and found out that Freddie's extended family— your extended family—lived up in the mountains, a few hours away. Your great-grandfather's name and picture appear in the papers for this little town a few times and get this—he's always pictured next to another young man, about the same age as him. Until he isn't. There are photos of them for several summers in a row, talking about their volunteering in the community, that sort of thing. And then nothing. And then , a few years later, your great-grandfather appears in the paper again—this time for an engagement announcement. Then I did some digging on Nathan. His family lived next door to Freddie's relatives. It all makes sense."

Jake took a bite of his ice cream and nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds plausible. What's your plan?"

"I told my boss Doug about the letters a few weeks ago and he's a hundred percent on board with tying them into the show somehow. I've just got to figure out how to work it into the narrative."

Jake, a spoonful of ice cream halfway to his mouth, froze. He frowned, deep lines forming between his eyebrows.

"What? Do you think it's a bad idea?"

He put the spoonful of ice cream in his mouth and hesitated for a moment. "I don't know. It feels kind of exploitative."

I was taken aback. I hadn't thought of it like that. "Really? I was thinking of it as sweet. Historic. You know, a queer love story for the ages, tying into the queer love story that led to the renovation in the first place."

"I don't think airing business without permission from both families is a good idea. And that's a big ask. Besides, they didn't exactly have a happy ending. Do you really want to get into that on your feel-good show?"

I tapped my lips with my spoon as I thought. He had a good point. I'd been so wrapped up in solving the mystery and sharing their love story that I hadn't stopped to think about how it would impact people. But now that I thought about it, Jake was right. I didn't want to out people, not without their permission. Finally, I nodded. "You're right. I hadn't thought of that angle. Let's put the brakes on putting this on the show." My next step would be to figure out how to tell Doug I didn't want to use the letters after all. That wasn't going to be an easy conversation.

Jake's laugh alleviated the knot building in my chest.

"What?" I frowned.

Still laughing, he shook his head. "Put the brakes on? You've never sounded more corporate."

I grinned playfully. "Is that doing something for you?"

He snorted. "Not exactly."

I gave him a wink. "Guess I'll try harder next time." I scooped a spoonful of ice cream up and ate it, letting the cold, creamy sweetness slide down my throat. It was exactly what I'd needed, and I was already disappointed that I was nearly finished with my cup. "So, honey lavender, huh?"

Jake took another bite. "What? I like the flavor. It's sweet, but not too sweet. Light. Delicate." When my eyebrows shot up, Jake frowned. "What? A guy like me can't like delicate flavors?"

"No, not at all. It's just not what I expected."

"No? Why not?"

"You know… you present as this super masculine, tough, gruff construction boss. But then you say things like that. You're always taking me by surprise, that's all."

His frown deepened. "You're saying I'm too manly to like lavender?"

"No!" I sputtered a hasty explanation. "I was just surprised. I like it. That's all I meant."

He let me squirm for an uncomfortable moment before his face relaxed into a smile and he laughed quietly, his shoulders shaking. When I realized he'd been fucking with me, I threw a wadded-up napkin in his direction.

"You dick." I couldn't help but join in his laughter though.

After a few more minutes, we'd both finished our ice cream.

"Well, I've got to get going." He stood and picked up his trash. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure thing. See you tomorrow."

"Wouldn't miss it."

The next day started out in a whirlwind of activity, barely giving me time to breathe. Deliveries needed to be signed for, there was footage to review, and I had a meeting with Doug scheduled for just before lunch. My stomach was in knots as I tried to figure out how to backtrack on including the letters in the show.

At the designated time, I logged onto the video call platform, adjusting in my chair anxiously.

Doug's camera switched on and his face appeared on my laptop screen with a smile. "Good morning. How are things down south?"

"Good. Floors are being installed as we speak. Cabinets and fixtures will go in early next week. We're on schedule to wrap by the end of next week."

"And the dailies?"

"They look good. Story is coming together nicely. I'm pleased with the interviews we're getting and the footage is solid."

Doug nodded approvingly. "Where are we on budget?"

"A little over, but not much. There were some unexpected expenses in the beginning, particularly related to asbestos mitigation and providing protective equipment to the crew, but spending is under control. We've kept overtime at a minimum, which is balancing things."

He jotted things on his notepad, nodding while he wrote. "Good, good. Now, about those letters you mentioned—"

"About that. I don't think we're going to use them after all. I don't see how they'll fit into the narrative we're building."

He frowned and leaned back in his chair. "I really think incorporating them will bring in viewers. Our most popular demographic is middle-aged women. They love a good love story. And if you spin it as a mystery, too, we'll capture the younger viewers."

"I hear what you're saying, boss. Here's the thing—this love story doesn't have a happy ending. These men are long deceased and from what I've learned, they don't end up together. At least one of them married someone else and has family who still live in the area. And speaking of family, we don't have permission to air their private letters. It's a tall ask from what I've gathered. And even if we had permission, it just feels like we need to give this story the respect it deserves. It feels exploitative to use their love letters to draw viewers into our home reno show. Their story belongs in a museum, not on a reality show."

Doug's frown deepened. "You're saying we exploit people."

I shook my head, in a hurry to clarify. "No, not at all what I meant, sir. I'm saying to make this a story without permission from the descendants feels uncomfortable at best." My heart raced as I spoke, and I rubbed my damp, sweaty palms on my thighs.

After a moment, he nodded. "Understood. Well, it's your show. I'm trusting you here. I'll let you make that call. Ratings will determine whether it was the right one."

I nodded sincerely, trying to keep myself from behaving unprofessionally. Inside, I was heaving a sigh of relief. "Thank you for understanding, Doug. I appreciate it."

We chatted a little more about the budget and timeline before ending the call a few minutes later. The minute the camera switched off, I sighed in relief and leaned back in my chair. I was excited to tell Jake the good news right away. To that end, I headed out to the job site to find him.