Page 14 of Designing Love
“I better get a soundtrack.”
We share a knowing smirk.
The wind rattles the porch chimes. The lake breathes against the shore. There’s a kind of quiet that only happens here — not silence, just stillness. Possibility.
Claire leans forward, brushing chip crumbs off her jeans. “So, what are you actually afraid of, Ethan?”
I’m quiet for a long moment. “That I’ll scare her off. I. Bought. A. House!”
We both laugh.
“I’m scared that she’s here to catch her breath and I’m trying to give her roots when she’s not even looking for ground.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Then don’t offer roots. Just offer a seed. Something small. A walk-through. A conversation. Let her decide if she wants more.”
“You’re really good at this,” I murmur.
Claire grins. “Trial and error, babe. Mostly error. But I’ve seen you build things from nothing. Give yourself the same chance.”
“Well, before I do anything, I need to make sure Simon doesn’t tell the whole town first.”
Claire snorts. “Too late. He cornered me in the produce aisle this morning, asking if your Miller House ‘redesign’ meant Bluewater Cove was finally getting its own ‘boutique experience.’”
I groan. “What does that even mean?”
“No one knows. But it probably involves shiplap and oat milk.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “I’ll talk to Sage tomorrow. See if she’ll share Sophia’s contact info.”
“Good.” Claire stands and grabs her coat. “And if Sophia says yes, I expect updates. And wine. Possibly a tour.”
“Deal.”
The door clicks behind her. I sit for a long moment, staring at the closed laptop.
Not heavy. Not stuck.
Hopeful.
7
UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER
Sophia
Sand crunches softly beneath my sandals, tiny grains slipping between my toes as I meander aimlessly along Bluewater Cove’s tranquil shoreline. The beach is mostly deserted today, save for a few gulls squabbling over what looks suspiciously like someone’s abandoned sandwich.
“I’m just saying, Sophia, this is the kind of contract you used to kill for,” my best friend Jenna insists through the phone. Her voice is a mix of confusion and disbelief, like I’ve just announced I’ve taken up professional clowning.
“I know, Jenna. Trust me, I’m painfully aware of that.” I sigh, watching a tiny crab scuttle away from my shadow. “It’s just, maybe I’m... reevaluating things? I wish I could do something that feels good, like flip an old house, like in the good old days. Something that reminds me of who I was. Does that make sense?”
“No, it doesn’t,” she retorts bluntly. “You, Sophia Carter, the woman who color-codes her sock drawer, are reevaluating? Are you running a fever?”
“Very funny,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see. “Look, I know this is a bit out of character, but maybe that’s exactly why I need to do it.”
There’s a long pause punctuated by the gentle rhythm of waves breaking against the shore.
“Okay,” Jenna says cautiously. “Let’s pretend I buy this existential-crisis Sophia. What exactly are you doing instead? Meditating? Painting? Joining Sage in crystal therapy sessions?”
