Page 30 of Where the Blacktop Ends

With Troy gone, the house finally breathes. Lighter. Quieter. Almost like it belongs to me now. I’ve kept the windows open all week, letting in the sunlight and a fresh ocean breeze that’s filled every corner. With Troy gone, the place finally feels like a real beach house, not some dark, treehouse tucked away in the woods where light can’t reach.

A ′sad beige home,′is how I described it to James.

Liam and I even took a trip to our localHome Goodsto pick out some colorful throw pillows for the living room, adding a bit of life to the space. We bought a few more toys—trucks, tractors, stuffed animals for his room, and new floaties for swim practice at the clubhouse. All things Troy either refused to or hadn’t thought to buy.

To be fair, it’s been a while since he’s had to play the role of dad, so I’m trying to cut him some slack, even as I mentally struggle to come up with five positives things about him while Liam and I make the lazy walk back from our Saturday outing.

One: He cares enough to have his assistant check in on us, even if he doesn’t call himself.

Two: He’s taking care of Liam when he could’ve pushed that responsibility back onto Liam’s parents.

Three…

I pause, trying to think of a third positive thing about him.

Dammit. I can’t think of a third thing beyond his massive dick.

We turn the corner to our street when Liam suddenly lets go of my hand, squealing loudly, “Ellie!” he shouts, racing towards his weekend nanny who is standing in the driveway of the home.

“Good morning, Eleanor!” I call out in a sing-song voice, and Liam mimics me perfectly, his little voice chiming, “GoodmoaningEllie!”

Eleanor is a beautiful, older woman with salt and pepper hair who I’ve learned is like a grandmother to Liam and from what little I got from Troy before he left, Liam adores her. I can see why. She radiates sunshine, warmth, and maternal energy.

She scoops him up, kissing his chubby cheeks and spinning him around as he squeals in delight.

“Thanks for keeping him a little longer today Georgia,” she says with a warm smile.

“No problem. We had a fun morning at the beach and even got ice cream.” I grin, ruffling Liam’s hair affectionately.

His large round brown eyes look anxious, glancing between me and Eleanor as if he’s trying to make sense of what’s about to happen. I crouch down to his eye level and squeeze his hand tightly.

“I’ll be right here waiting on Monday morning when Eleanor drops you off. We’ll spend the whole week together again, okay? I’ll see you in two days.” I hold up two fingers and count with him. “One, two. Just like how old you are!”

He grins, not quite ready to grasp the concept of counting yet, but it seems like he understands the reassurance that I’ll still be here when he comes back. I give him a hug then straighten up as I watch her strap him into his car seat then wave goodbye.

It’s the first time I’ve been alone in the house since Troy left on his business trip, and though the urge to snoop around is strong, I respect his boundaries and privacy and decide to restrain myself.

Plus, what if he has cameras in here?

I smirk, wondering if I should test that theory. James and his constant daring me to do ridiculous things pops into my mind, and I decide,screw it. Let’s see if Mr. Marshall is into voyeurism.

I head upstairs, taking an extra-long shower, scrubbing every inch of my body, and shaving everything from my armpits down for tonight’s big event. After toweling off, I head back downstairs to make myself lunch, still completely naked and enjoying the freedom to move about. Once my sandwich is expertly assembled, I plot down onto one of his kitchen chairs and begin enjoying the food, completely forgetting where I am and what I’m doing when suddenly my phone pings with a message from next to me.

Mr. Marshall: Did Eleanor come pick up Liam yet?

“Oh, sonowyou remember you have my number and can check in on your grandson,” I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes as I set my phone back down and take another bite of my sandwich.

Mr. Grumpy Pants can wait until I finish my lunch.

But before I can even finish chewing, my phone pings again.

My brows bunch together as I glance at the screen, seeing Troy’s name.

Mr. Marshall: Apologies for not checking in earlier this week. Brutal few days.

I look around the kitchen, craning my neck to see if he has some sort of listening device propped up that I didn’t notice.

No cameras are visible, but I still feel extremely vulnerable. It’d been a joke,mostly,to walk around his house naked and test my theory. I didn’t actually think he’d have cameras inside here, or be checking them. But the hair on the back of my neck is standing up now and I get the eerie sense that I’m definitely being watched.

---