Page 10 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
How the hell is this my life? Twenty-four hours ago I was standing in this very spot as I fired my contractor. Now I’m observing the man thatCosmopolitanvoted as having the sexiest six-pack in Hollywood while he studies the gaps between my floorboards.
I shake my head as if to magically reset my thoughts, my vision, my reality. But nope. The scene in front of me remains. This must be what people mean when they say “mind fuck.”
Lewis trots over to the kitchen and opens one of the cabinet doors, wincing when it squeaks. “That Vlad guy definitely half-assed this cabinet installation. Christ, they’re not even level, and all the hinges are loose. The veranda and the added bathrooms are incredibly well done, though.”
He steps over to the hallway leading to the three bedrooms and sticks his head in the half bathroom that I designed.
“The materials in here look really high quality, and the design is perfect. It’s a small space, but you utilized it well with the kind of fixtures you chose and how you oriented the sink and the toilet.”
I know the smile I’m flashing is cheesy, but I can’t help it. I worked so hard on that bathroom, and it feels so damn amazing to be complimented on it.
“And the veranda is just...damn.” He walks back to the kitchen and through the French doors that lead to it. “It’s a gorgeous wraparound,” he says while standing in the open doorway.
“Thanks,” I say. “It took a while to get just right, but I think it was worth it.”
“You worked hard on the first stage of this renovation, and it shows.”
Lewis finishes his walk-through after commenting here and there about the other problems he notices with Vlad’s remodel.
He turns to me and rests his hands on his hips. “My honest opinion?”
“Please.”
“I can easily fix all of this and do the last couple of projects you mentioned in three months, max.”
“Seriously? By yourself?”
“If you’re willing to help me out with stuff when you’re free, it’ll go faster.”
I was fully expecting Lewis to observe the disaster zone that is currently this house and admit that he’d need at least a ten-person crew to take on this mess. It takes a few seconds of me standing there staring at him to fully process that this is actually doable.
“Okay...maybe I could do that.”
“So does that mean I’m hired?” Lewis flashes a half smile that has me chuckling.
“Not so fast. Can I see some of your past work? I know that might be super annoying for me to ask, but this house means everything to me, and someone already came in and screwed it all up. I don’t want to risk that happening again. I need to know you have the skill to fix what’s wrong with this houseandcarry out a quality remodel.”
Even as I say it, I have no idea how he’ll be able to quell my worry. But he flashes a boyish smile, like he expected me to say all this all along. “Absolutely.”
He pulls out his phone and for the next few minutes shows me photos of a sprawling mid-century modern home.
“This is my house in LA,” he says. “I bought it just over three years ago. It was a foreclosure and a total dump. Structural problems, mold in the ceilings, fire damage, the works.”
He flips through a dozen photos showing discolored ceilings and crackling walls pocked with holes.
“I spent almost a year fixing it up whenever I had time off between roles.”
My mouth hangs open as I take in the stunning transformation: the open-concept design, post-and-beam construction, clerestory windows all along the entire first floor. If he was able to turn his house into a freaking palace, I know I can trust him with this remodel.
“Whoa. That’s gorgeous.” I look up at him. “Okay. You’ve clearly got some serious skills. But there’s one more thing that you need to be okay with. Given the fact that I live in this house, I’ll be here pretty much every day until this renovation is done, so...”
“You want to micromanage me.” He says it so casually, like he doesn’t mind at all, I’m a little shocked. What I’m suggesting is a contractor’s worst nightmare.
“Pretty much, yeah,” I say. “Look, I know how annoying that’s going to be, but this is my grandparents’ house. It was their first and only home in the US after moving from the Philippines decades ago. When they passed, they left it to my parents and me to take care of. And we...well, we let it get a bit run-down over the years.”
My gaze falls to the floor as a pang of sadness hits my chest. God, I missApongBernie andApongVivian so much.
“Even though they’re not here anymore, I want to make this house as perfect as I can to honor them. They deserve that.”
