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"I'm not in love with her." The words feel wrong leaving my mouth. Not like a lie exactly. More like a sentence that was accurate a week ago and has since expired. "We have an arrangement."
"Arrangements don't make those facial expressions,” Howie says, and Ella hides her smile behind her glass of water.
The meatballs arrive. We eat. Spinner tells a story about Rookie at practice involving a puck, a water bottle, and physics-defying bad luck. Ella asks me about Puck's adjustment to the new digs, and I tell her about the windowsill. She gets the look that means she's planning to visit with turkey.
It's good. Being here with these people. I sometimes forget that I have this — not just teammates, but people who see me, ask questions, and don't let me hide. It’s a nice community.
Rookie elbows me as we're leaving. "Hey. For what it's worth? You seem better."
"Better?"
"Yeah. Like, lighter." He shrugs. "Whatever it is, don't overthink it."
* * *
The contractor calls while I'm walking to my car.
"Mr. Miller, I wanted to update you on the timeline. We've cleared the demo and completed the structural assessment. The roof needs a full replacement, not just the section that collapsed, and the water damage to the second floor is more extensive than we initially thought." He pauses. "We're looking at three to four months. Minimum."
I lean against my car. Three to four months. I should feel something — frustration, urgency, the need to push for faster progress. I was going to spend the summer in Boston like usual. Instead, I think about Briar's kitchen and how the morning light comes through the window above the sink. I shouldn’t leave while the construction is ongoing.
"That's fine," I say. "Do it right. I don't want to rush it."
"And what about the double vanity in the bathroom? You mentioned you wanted us to price it out."
"Yeah." I rub the back of my neck. "Go ahead with the double vanity. And the upgrades you mentioned for the walk-in closet.”
A walk-in closet in the primary bedroom seemed like a logical adjustment, especially if I’m installing the double vanity.
I'm not in love with her. I'm just building a house that has room for two people's hockey equipment. Or whatever things people want to keep from dragging mud in the house. For the resale value.
My phone buzzes. It's Briar.
Film session canceled. Home early. Want to watch tape together tonight? I could use a defensive eye.
I type back:
Sounds perfect. I'll make dinner.
Briar
You always cook. You’re spoiling me.
I stare at the phone. I type and delete four different responses before settling on:
I like cooking for you.
The dots appear and disappear a few times before she responds.
Briar
I like you cooking for me too.
I pocket the phone, start the car, and drive back to the townhouse that isn't mine but feels like it, to cook for a woman I'm not in love with, in a life I'm not supposed to be building.
Chapter 17
Briar
