Page 36 of No Greater Oblivion

“We had a building inspector in here the other day.” He leans against the bar which is miraculously still standing. “What do you think?”

“You want my opinion over a professional’s?”

“Yours is the only one that matters.”

I release a breath. Closing the distance between us, I cup the side of his face in my hand and press a kiss against his cheek. Upon pulling away, I let my gaze sweep over the room one more time.

“What did the building inspector say about the structural integrity? Is it safe?”

“For now. But first priority has to be re-enforcing the structural framework. Trying to do any sort of renovation before would be catastrophic. The whole place could collapse in on itself, not to mention pose a danger to the surrounding buildings.”

“I’m not a structural engineer. I wouldn’t even know where to⁠—”

“Just tell me what you think. Don’t worry about the rest,” he says calmly. “I want your honest opinion.”

I stand beside him and look around once more. “The place has to be gutted. I’d focus on the cellar and then work my way up. How’s the second floor?”

“Surprisingly enough, not as bad as it could be.”

“Well then I’d start in the cellar. Re-enforce the building’s structural support and then bring in a team of engineers: civil, structural, machinal, electrical, plumbing. Hire an architect to figure out space planning. You’ll want to get a general contractor and a construction manager. Probably a materials manager too. It’s such a massive project.”

“Materials manager?”

“Someone who manages the inventory. You’ll want someone to help you pick out things like fire-rated walls and floors. Doors and windows that are fire-resistant.”

“Can I hire you?”

“I appreciate your faith in me but I couldn’t pull off a project of this size.”

“I think you’re perfectly capable. Look at what you’ve accomplished at home in less than a year and our house is ten times the size of this place.”

“That’s different,” I reply. “Our house was old and in need of a renovation—this is fire damage, Alejandro. It’s a lot of responsibility and too many moving parts. I have a degree⁠—”

“Two degrees,” he corrects.

“And no experience.” I give him a pointed look. “Me slathering paint on every wall in our house doesn’t count.”

“Don’t diminish the scale of your own talent. Least of all in front of me. You’re extraordinary. I refuse to hear another word.”

I can’t help but smile. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Right here,” he answers, though solemnly. “Waiting.”

I reach out and tuck a loose wave of hair behind his ear. I can’t remember it ever being this long. “Are you okay?”

His gaze drops but he doesn’t pull away from my touch.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“Está en tu mirada.”

Alejandro’s eyes meet mine. Surprise flickers through them.

“I’m not going to stop until you open up your heart to me.”

He inhales deeply, never breaking eye contact. Finally, he whispers, “I often wonder what’ll happen if one day I let you see everything. Maybe I don’t because I know you’d hate me if you did.”

I lift to the tips of my toes, or at least, as best as I can with my injury. I kiss each corner of his mouth before pressing my lips against his.