Page 8 of Where Love Lies

Paige takes a slow step toward me; her eyes still on the door.

“That was weird,” she says, her voice low.

“Yeah, I can’t argue that,” I admit, grabbing the bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.

“What do you think they meant about bringing light into the house?”

I bite my bottom lip, staring at the front door. The black paint covers every crack and crevice. The color and what happened here projecting onto Paige and me.

“I don’t know, but first thing tomorrow, I’m painting that damn door a different color.”

“What, why?” Paige’s head snaps up so fast, another strand of her hair comes loose.

“Because it’s black. It’s sad and—”

“Powerful and strong. Keep it,” she interrupts. My brows furrow at the way she sees and feels about the color.

Maybe I’ve been looking at it all wrong. I’ve always seen the color as something evil, but maybe it represents something more—like strength and authority. If it weren’t for the dark door casting its dominance, every neighbor that has stepped into this house today would have seen how fragile Paige and me are. Instead, they’ve seen something ruthless and compelling.

“All right, we’ll keep it black.”

4

Heston:Thinking about me yet?

Phone in hand, I stand in my room in my champagne-colored bra and matching panties. I was hoping he’d forget about lunch since I don’t know how to feel about it. Should I be excited or dreading it?

The fact that Heston is handsome, especially his sexy smirk and his short, ash blond curls, has a smile spreading across my face. He makes me feel like a high schooler again, I swear. The butterflies and constant urge to giggle at everything he says is mortifying. I hope I never witness myself mid-flirt.

Biting my bottom lip, my fingers move across the keyboard on my screen.

Me:Thinking about how I don’t have a car because of you.

Three dots pop up as he replies, and I chew on the end of my nail, nervous he took my horrible attempt at flirting as rude.

Heston:I’m the kind of man who does a lot of things he’s not supposed to, but I’ve never regretted one thing I’ve done. Yet.

I crack a smile at his massive ego.

Me:The day isn’t over yet.

I laugh, feeling both sexy and confident after my risqué behavior. I’m not typically the kind of girl that flirts, so I don’t know why I even said the things I did, but it feels good. It’s this place; it makes me feel comfortable and free. I don’t feel hidden away in an apartment where people walking by could care less about who lives there. I matter here and I can feel it.

Heston:I’m looking froward to your kind of trouble.

Oh man, he knows what he’s doing. He can more than talk the talk and walk the walk.

We chat a little more and I find out his car is in the shop, so he’s taking an Uber to where we’re eating. I decide to take one too incase the date goes sour and I want to leave.

Now…to find something to wear.

Well, the good news is I’ve hung all my clothes up. The bad news…I can’t find anything I want to wear for my lunch date. Purple light casts a calming shade across the room as I stare at my closet. Baggy shirts and pants are all I wear. I’ve been hiding my body, seeking comfort in one over-washed hoodie at a time. It’s clear I haven’t recovered from my divorce with Cam. He made me feel ugly and ashamed of my curves.

Leaning back on my heel, I glance at the rack of clothes once more, trying to remember what I would’ve worn before I met Cam. How I would have worn my hair. Truthfully, it’s difficult to remember who I was before him.

I pull my phone out again, checking to see where the closest Target is. They have same-day delivery, so if I find something more…alluring to wear, it will be here before I need to go.

On the third page of dresses, my eyes snag on a model in a bell-sleeved, lace-hemline Mya dress. It’s long-sleeved and brown with a white design. The boat neckline is gorgeous, exposing my shoulders. It’s mid-thigh and looks cute with the white wedges she’s wearing.

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