Page 10 of Designing Love
“NO! Well, not just to impress her. It’s a good investment. Simon even agreed, despite his usual dramatics.”
“Ah, sure,” Claire teases, delighting far too much in my discomfort. “So, you’re buying the creepiest property in town to spend time with the cute new designer. That’s one way to catch someone’s attention.”
I roll my eyes. “When you say it like that, it makes me sound crazy.”
She snorts.
“It could become something neat. Plus, Sophia said she used to flip old houses, and she misses doing it…”
Claire studies me carefully, her playful expression slowly turning more thoughtful. “So, the knight in shining armor comes swooping in? Ethan, are you sure about this? You’re jumping quickly into something for someone you don’t know.”
I nod slowly, dropping all pretense of humor. “Claire, I can flip the Miller House as a rental or something else. It’s a sound investment and you know it. Besides, thanks to the Bitcoin craze, you know I can afford it. I’m careful, but sometimes it’s worth taking a risk.”
She smiles. Not her usual smile, but herI’m worried about my friendlook.
“Well, if anyone deserves a bit of romance and adventure, it’s you, Ethan. Just promise me you won’t let Simon scam you into buying any swampland while you’re at it.”
Laughing softly, I clink my glass against hers. “Deal.”
Just then, the door swings open with a dramatic flourish, and Simon himself strides in, immediately starting a loud conversation about another questionable property deal. Claire rolls her eyes.
“Speaking of swampland...”
We exchange an amused glance.
I bought the house. Now for the next step of my plan… Sophia.
5
UNPACKING THE PAST
Sophia
Sage’s beach house always smells like rosemary, driftwood, and mischief. Tonight, it’s also garlic, butter, and something spicy that turned out to be — in her words — “a bold amount of cayenne.” We’re sitting across from each other at her kitchen table, which is half reclaimed wood and half chaotic altar. The table legs don’t quite match, and neither do the plates, but it feels... good. Comfortable. Familiar.
Sage twirls linguine on her fork like she’s preparing for a pasta commercial and tilts her head at me. “So,” she says, voice light but clearly hunting for depth, “you going to tell me what’s really going on, or am I going to have to break out my tarot deck and incense?”
I poke at a cherry tomato, watching it roll listlessly across my plate. “It was over with Daniel long before we signed the papers. I think I just didn’t want to admit it.”
Sage hums softly. “It’s always easier to stay on the train than jump onto the tracks.”
I set my fork down. “He made me feel like I was... too much. Too loud. Too opinionated. Too curvy, too bold, too... something. I started editing myself — shrinking a little each day just to fit his version of what I was supposed to be.”
Sage’s expression sharpens. “Let me guess: that version was beige?”
I huff a laugh, low and bitter. “With a splash of greige for excitement.”
She shakes her head, curls bouncing with defiance. “Sophia, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again — you’re not a feature wall. You’re the whole damn gallery.”
I smile, surprised by the sting in my eyes. “Thanks, Sage.”
She pins me with a laser-sharp gaze. “He tried to design you like a minimalist condo. But you’re a cathedral. You echo. You shimmer. You have details. He just didn’t know how to live in something so full of wonder.”
My throat tightens, but the knot in my chest loosens a little. I sip my wine and let the silence settle. There’s comfort in Sage’s presence — like her chaos is a shield from the outside world. She’s always been my safe place, even when I didn’t know I needed one.
“Was he ever…” Sage sits back, an uncomfortable expression on her face.
“Never. He’s a jerk, yes... but not a violent one.”
