Page 15 of Where Love Lies

“Yeah, nobody has said anything about that one. She must have gotten away with it,” Flynn adds.

“Wait, are you saying she messed around with Tenly’s husband?” Maybe she just broke into their house too, and Flynn and Owen are just assuming the worst.

“Yeah, Tenly was at some yoga retreat and Layla came running across the street barefoot. Why else would she be over there in the wee morning hours?” Owen says, and my mouth drops. It does sound conspicuous. Holy shit. I really don’t want Paige hanging out with her.

“The Gradys have ornery twins and a son that’s older, but he’s not near as much trouble as Layla.”

“Wow,” I mutter, untying the apron I was using while messing around in my studio.

“What is this little getup?” Owen asks, running his finger in the air, referring to my apron.

“Oh, I was going to set up my pottery station.”

“Wait, we have an artist for a neighbor?” Owen bats his eyes, glancing at Flynn before drawing his eyes back to me. Tucking his hand under his jaw, his pinky rubbing his chin, Flynn steps next to him, smirking at me.

“That’s pretty awesome. That’s a new one.”

“Yeah, I like you.” Owen raises a brow, as if his acceptance of me is a big deal.

“Well, I don’t have anything to show yet. I’m hoping to get it setup soon.”

“You better show me when you do!” Owen says with a smile, pawing at the air with his left hand, as if he wants to give me a playful slap, but isn’t sure how I would take it. I can’t help but laugh. I love how curious they are of my work. The city never gave me that kind of attention.

“I will.” I place the apron on the banister, excited to get the room settled.

“Anyway, we won’t stay and bother you—we just didn’t want Earl running you off. His daughter is a mess. He can’t fix her, so he blames everyone else.” Flynn’s word come out unfiltered and with a hint of irritation. He must really be pissed about her breaking in and stealing their drinking glasses.

Owen opens the front door, letting Flynn go ahead of him. He winks at me before shutting the door behind them.

Wow, these people know everyone’s business. Staring through the glass on the door, I watch them cross the street and wonder what they’re saying about me.

My phone buzzes on the counter, the vibration causing it to slip closer to the edge. Rushing over, I snatch it up before it falls and see Heston left a text.

Heston: Give me your address, so I can make you dinner?

I shake my head, rereading the text. He really doesn’t need to come over here and make dinner for us. I would like to see him, though. Maybe another date?

Heston: Stop overthinking it.

Trying to fight back my smile, I snort instead.

Me: How about dinner at a restaurant?

I counteroffer, nervous to let him come over. It will make things more personal between us, for sure, and I’m not sure I’m emotionally ready for that to happen. I just lost my mother and am adjusting to a whole new life. What if I really start liking him and he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he just walks out of my life? Can I handle that right now?

Heston: See you at six.

My brows furrow with confusion. Wait—what does that mean? Are we going out to eat?

Me: Where do you want to meet?

Three dots pop up then disappear. I sit for a few moments, waiting to see if he begins typing again. He doesn’t. My suggestion for a public place must have pissed him off. I sigh loudly, placing my phone facedown. My stomach is twisted in knots. I wanted to see him, and now that he’s not talking to me at all, coming over here doesn’t sound bad. My brain and heart contradict one another, and it’s aggravating.

I glance at my phone one last time, deciding I’ll order in pizza and put a movie on for Paige and me. It will be nice to spend some time together after our fight from earlier. Until then, I’ll go upstairs and get lost in all things silent art.

Hours pass. I’ve organized my sculpting tools and checked my phone several times to see if Heston has texted anything. He hasn’t. I want to try to fix whatever it is I did, but tell myself to put the phone down and let it be.

The sound of Paige’s door across the landing has me looking over my shoulder, waiting to see if she’s coming in here or heading downstairs.

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