Page 124 of Wilde's End
“Well, I’ve had plenty of partner-type things, and in my experience, they do.” His smile is half sad, half hopeful. “So I’d love to try something different with you.”
“Let’s get started, then.”
And like that, the cute moment between us passes, because neither of us likes to talk about emotions for too long. But the way we feel is still there in every look and every touch. We support each other, and we show up for each other.
That’s what’s important.
It doesn’t matter how many doubts I have that I can do this, because I want it. So bad. So I know we’ll make it work.
Me and my city boy.
’Til the end.
EPILOGUE
HUDSON
“Ishould have burned it down when I had the chance.”
I choke on my laugh when I turn to Wilde and see the way he’s glaring up at house two. As the flagship house of our whole project, we’re using it as the prototype for the external facing, and with all the shiplap gone, it looks fucking awesome. We’ve gone back and forth on whether ultramodern was the way to go and in the end decided against it. We might be giving Old End a revamp, but there must be something in the air out here because it didn’t feel right to bring a whole head of steel and cement out here.
In the end, the houses will look like cabins. Well, mega cabins. All timber and stone with wide balconies at the front and huge windows looking toward the foresty hill at the back.
“Admit it,” I say, elbowing him in the ribs. “It looks fucking amazing.”
“Whoever buys it has more money than brains.”
“Let’s hope!” He can’t bring me down today. With the rooffully finished, I have a glimpse at how the street will turn out, and it’s fucking incredible. Wilde can grumble about the renovations all he likes; if he were really that unhappy about them, he wouldn’t be here every other day helping.
It’s why, no matter what, I’m determined to find a solution that’s going to suit us all.
With the money hole we’re in, we can’tnotmake money off this place, otherwise … what then? We leave, head home, have our business collapse, and end up with less than we started with?
I try not to picture that devastating future because it’s terrifying to even think that’s an option.
Especially when I glance over at Wilde, at his curly hair and neat beard and wary gaze, I don’t think it is anymore.
We still have a long way ahead of us before we’re done here, but more and more lately, I’ve been wondering about what happens when it is. When this is all tied up and we’re ready to move on to the next thing, do I just … pack it up and go home? To that apartment where everything is too loud and too cramped? Or … would he want me to stay?
I dart another look Wilde’s way and tug him around until he’s looking at me. It takes a moment for the caution in his eyes to fade and be replaced by the way he usually looks at me. The way that makes my chest feel too full.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say, because I might as well blurt it all out there, or we’ll never get through a conversation. He’s gotten a lot better at communicating, but even now, it’s sometimes hard to get the words out of him. “What happens when I’m done?”
“I’m not following.”
I wave a hand toward the houses. “Here. With this. What happens when it’s finished and I have nothing keeping me here anymore?”
His eyebrows inch higher. “Nothing?”
Even months later, he still brings out the nerves in me. “That’s what I’m asking. I came here to work, and obviously, there’s still a lot to go, but once itisdone … will I still have you?”
His features soften as he steps closer. “Do you want to still have me?”
“Would I be asking if I didn’t?”
It earns me one of his rare smiles. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Not … not even if we can’t figure this out? What if I have to sell?”
