Page 40 of Designing Love
“I wish I knew,” I sigh heavily, rubbing the back of my neck. “Confidential informant! The worst part is we might lose Turner if this drags out too long. Contractors aren’t exactly patient.”
Sophia winces sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Ethan. When will we know more?”
“Thursday,” I groan. “Until then, we’re stuck.”
She hesitantly reaches out, gently brushing her fingertips against mine, a quiet reassurance that settles my nerves. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”
I nod slowly, my heart warming despite the bureaucratic mess. “Speaking of which, do you want to pick paint colors or something? We could pretend everything’s fine for a bit.”
Her lips quirk into a gentle smile. “First, we definitely need coffee.”
“Definitely,” I echo, a genuine grin breaking through my irritation. “Shall we head to Lucas’?”
“We absolutely should.”
We walk side by side down Main Street, the familiar sights and sounds of Bluewater Cove wrapping around us comfortingly. Sophia elbows me lightly as we pass Simon’s office, mischief flickering in her eyes.
“Hey, Ethan?”
“Hmm?”
“You think Simon will ever forgive you for ruining his morning?”
I snort, rolling my eyes. “He’ll probably send me his therapist’s bill.”
Sophia laughs softly, the sound immediately easing the tension in my chest. “I’ll pay half.”
“Deal,” I chuckle, feeling a weight lift slightly from my shoulders.
We turn the corner toward Lucas’ café, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee welcomes us. I open the door for her. She walks by so closely, her perfume makes my heart race.
Bureaucratic nightmares aside, this moment — with Sophia by my side, laughter and hope lingering in the air — feels perfect.
Maybe the Miller House isn’t going smoothly yet. But as long as Sophia’s here, I have a feeling everything eventually will.
18
WAITING GAME
Sophia
The sunlight paints the porch in gentle strokes of gold, warming the weathered wood and softening even the most eccentric of Sage’s decorative choices. I curl up in my chair after dinner, balancing a blueberry muffin on my knee and breathing in the salty breeze drifting lazily from Lake Huron.
Sage sits opposite, oversized sunglasses perched on her head, hands curled comfortably around her ever-present mug of herbal tea. Mr. Darcy sprawls dramatically beside her chair, eyeing my muffin.
“So,” Sage begins, lifting her eyebrows in playful curiosity, “how are we feeling this evening? Calm and confident? Mildly panicked? Full-blown spiritual unraveling?”
I chuckle softly, picking crumbs from the muffin top. “Hovering somewhere between mildly panicked and DEFCON-1 panic mode.”
She tilts her head sympathetically. “Because of Ethan’s meeting tomorrow?”
“Exactly. That and…” I sigh, watching a sailboat drift lazily across the lake. “I know Ethan’s trying not to show it, but the Miller House fiasco worries him. And now I feel responsible.”
Sage waves dismissively. “Please, you didn’t create this problem. Don’t blame yourself.”
“Didn’t I? What if this is all Daniel? It’s too coincidental that suddenly there’s a ‘confidential informant’!” I admit reluctantly. “Ethan bought the house to get me to stick around, and now it’s turning into a problem. He deserves better.”
Sage gives me a knowing look, sipping her tea carefully. “You’re forgetting Ethan chose this chaos. Chose you.”
