Page 70 of The Holiday Grump
The way he looked at me made my insides twist into a knot. “You don’t see a future for yourself on dry land?”
Thinking about staying felt like cracking open a heavy door that hadn’t been opened in a long time. If I stopped moving, if I started building something here so close to Bangor, word would eventually get out. Spencer would find me, and I’d have to face everything I’d left behind.
“Do we have to talk about the future?”
He shrugged. “I guess it’ll happen, whether we talk about it or not.”
“Exactly. We might as well enjoy life and…” My gaze dropped to his crotch. “Each other?”
“So we’re together?” He sounded a little wounded. Worried.
“You want to be together?” I looked at him in disbelief.
This man had become my reluctant helper and landlord. And now he wanted a relationship?
He huffed, frustrated. “Yes! I want to be with you, Noelle. Exclusively. Am I not being clear?”
“Not… publicly, though?” I clarified.
He looked conflicted. “I don’t like the town knowing my business, if that’s what you mean. But that won’t stop me from dating you.”
“Maybe we can be together on the down-low?”
“I don’t think you can do anything on the down-low.” A smile warmed his face, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “And I love that about you.”
It was true. I stood out everywhere I went like a multicolored sore thumb.
I tried to laugh. “Yeah, I’m working on that.” I climbed down the steps. “I need a shower.”
“Go ahead.” He nodded, casting one last look. A weighted one that made my stomach swoop.
I showered, washing my hair with peppermint shampoo I found. I got dressed while Fredrik showered, grateful that I’d managed to pack a change of clothes in the middle of the night. Feeling fresh and relaxed in flowy terracotta pants and a green sweater, I waited for him, combing myunruly hair with my fingers. Our heads wrapped in towels, we crossed the backyard and went back to his house. Fredrik restarted the fire while I made us coffee and searched his pantry for anything to go with it. I found crackers and carried everything to the coffee table in front of the fire.
“You have to tell me if this is not okay,” I said. “I’m walking around your house, sticking my head into places… making coffee and eating your stuff. I’m not a very good houseguest. I tend to forget my place. I’m nosy and I want to feel useful. Or maybe I’m just impatient. I don’t know. But I’m not good at sitting and waiting and not touching anything.” My words tumbled out, my stomach unsettled.
He huffed a sad laugh, closing the fireplace doors. “Does that mean you feel at home? Because that’s great. It took me a long time to feel at home here. This was always Glenn’s house, and I felt like I was housesitting.”
I pulled a face, sipping my coffee. “I don’t feel at home anywhere. I’ve never owned a house, so I don’t know how it feels, but in my imagination, it’s this grand feeling. Like you’re a little bigger than someone without a house. Because your house is an extension of you or something.”
He laughed for real now. “The only thing grand about owning a house is the amount of mental energy and money it sucks out of you. Renovating it. Maintaining it. Worrying about anything that might make it depreciate.”
I sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s so beautiful, though! Everything you’ve done in here… your uncle would be so proud.”
“It’s taken me embarrassingly long. I couldn’t choose the materials. Or colors. Or anything.” He looked away. “Jackson’s been helping, but even he gave up on me at some point. And then…”
“Then what?”
“Then I met you. And we finally finished my bathroom.”
What?
I sat up, spilling a little coffee on my pants. “You mean the downstairs one with the green tile? The most gorgeous bathroom I’ve ever seen?”
“You like it?” He joined me on the couch, sitting down slowly as he studied my face, as if to see if I was telling the truth.
I sighed. “I’m not being nice! I love that bathroom. The one upside of not having a filter is that I’m pretty honest.”
“Honesty is underrated,” he said.
