Page 48 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“That’s it?”

He shrugged. “Never here long enough to put in the effort.”

“Do I make you work too much?” I asked, itching to pull my hair in front of my chest. Unfortunately for my nervous hands, I had taken the precaution of braiding it into a crown today. Silas Whitaker and his men were currently installing lights in my house, and filming B-roll footage. I’d barely slept all night, and if my hair was within reach, I had a feeling I’d end up with the worst knots. “Do you need more time off?”

“No.”

“If you want more time at your own place, we can figure something out.”

“Cordelia?” Victor dropped into the chair across from me and folded his arms on the table. I tried very hard - and failed - not to stare at the way his white dress shirt stretched over his biceps.

“Hmm?”

“Most of my things are at your place.”

“Really?” That got my attention enough to glance up.

“I started adding things a few years ago. I’m still waiting for you to notice.”

“You didn’t. Like what?”

“I’ve replaced all your gym equipment.”

“You’re the only one who uses most of those machines anyway.” I shrugged. I might jump on the treadmill for a bit every now and again, but that was it.

“I bought almost every cooking utensil.”

“Well, I don’t really use those either.”

“The sofa in the winter garden.”

“The chaise lounge? It’s pink.”

“Yes.”

“No, but that’s- I got that a few years- I mean-” I furrowed my brows because I loved that chaise. I’d never even seen him sit on it until the night we played the floor is lava. “When it showed up, I just thought I’d forgotten that I bought it at an online auction or something.” That had happened a few times. Squirrel brain got obsessed with hoarding, and by the time the delivery came, I’d forgotten all about my impulse buys. In some ways, it was like giving myself little surprise gifts.

“I have the receipt if you want proof.”

“No, I believe you.” I sighed. “Anything else?”

“The kitchen radio. Every single white towel because you only owned pink ones when I moved in. Bathroom stuff I keep downstairs. The chess board. Plants. I keep buying plants. I put them everywhere.”

I slapped my hand on the table. “I noticed the plants.”

“Oh, you did?” He raised a single brow, challenging me.

“Not at first. Then, for a moment, I was sure thatmyplants were secretly multiplying by themselves. The big fiddle leaf fig gave it away though.”

“You never said anything.”

“You were never there when I found them. I’d make a mental note to mention it to you, forget about it by the next time I saw you, and only remember a few days later. And then it felt awkward to bring it up because of how much time had passed.” I glanced around his very plant-less kitchen. “They’re mine though. You can’t have them back. They’ve befriended all of my other plants.”

“They’re all yours,” he chuckled.

“I can give you a Pothos if you want some greenery in here,” I stood and walked over to where he had plenty of space on his kitchen shelves between a few dusty bowls and wine glasses. “They just keep growing and growing and growing, and this would be a great spot.”

“I’m good,” he replied from right behind me. I jumped a little, looking over my shoulder. So sneaky.

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