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We’d slept near to and practically beside each other a whole bunch of times. But that was then, this was now. That pesky now when life and each of us were different.
I looked at the bed. A whole mess of blankets. “First, let’s get a decent fitted sheet on here.”
Adam’s gaze lingered on me, then he retreated to the downstairs linen closet. He returned a moment later. “One set of sheets. Here we go.”
In silence thick with emotional tension, we worked together to make the bed. I peeled back the covers and slid in. Adam got in the other side. I turned to face away from him, staring hard at the front door entryway and the wall dividing the dining room.
Rustling sounded behind me and a waft of his scent carried over—clean soap with minty hints of toothpaste. For as ordinary as those were, they felt distinctly him. Unpretentious. Familiar.
The house fell quiet.
“Jillian?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for today.”
I smiled. “It was a good day. Better than yesterday.” I rolled to my back, facing up at the ceiling. “Tell me about your company.”
“Ah, you want me to bore you to sleep.”
I whipped my head toward him, seeing his faint outline appear more clearly. “You started a whole business. You dropped a casual line about houses having souls. Believe me, I’m interested.”
He laughed softly. “I know the soul thing sounds corny. Sometimes a house is just a house. But there are times I go into one and I sense the history. Like this one. A family owned this home for two generations. Maybe doesn’t sound like much, but many of the clients we work with move place to place every few years. It’s not often you find someone who raised their own family in the house where they grew up. The owners weren’t here only for the summer, they lived here year ‘round. They raised four kids here.”
“Wow, four kids in this house?” It was smaller than the rental next door. “But a big yard. And the lake. I bet it was great living here.”
“My parents said the seller was excited we planned a modest renovation. They were worried investors would buy it for the land and tear it down.”
He went on to tell me the story of starting his business, the risks he took, the support he had from his family. The money earmarked for college, later, went toward his start-up costs.
He shared about his growing love for renovating well-loved homes of any size. He had a heart for it. Never once did he mention granite counters or high-end upgrades. He talked about the bones of houses and memories they held, and how their renovations brought out the best parts of what homeowners already had.
The homes were made new, but built on top of existing foundations. I felt myself dozing off, imagining the possibilities to build onto my own life. Perhaps with my own strong builder at my side.
Something heavy lay across my back. I squinted awake and got an eye full of sunlight. The weight against me felt like a felled tree. I twisted and looked behind me. Adam.
I must have been dead tired to have fallen asleep so quickly and remembered nothing of the night. Adam’s tree trunk arm angled across me, pinning me down. I shifted, and he turned slightly, but his arm remained. I was stuck.
And didn’t mind so much.
I’d been so worried about sharing a bed and here we’d konked out so fast and slept until sunrise. Or at least I had. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept through the night without waking up at least once.
I listened for distant scritching or flapping from whatever various animals were in the house but heard nothing. Keeping as quiet as I could, I shifted out from Adam’s arm, scooching until I reached the edge of the pull-out couch to roll out. Only the slight movement of his chest assured me he was breathing. No snoring. That was a plus. He looked so peaceful. How had I been furious with him for so long?
This time when I searched my mind for the familiar, hurtful memories of when he’d left me, the image of him eating a tostada yesterday came to mind instead. Then at the library picking up that well-worn paperback about old houses.
And our kiss. The kiss…it changed everything.
I tiptoed into the kitchen to get coffee started. After using the bathroom and washing my face with simple soap and water, I returned to the kitchen to find Adam. “Hey.”
He smiled at me through a groggy expression. “You made coffee.”
“It’s essential.”
“Did you sleep okay?”
“Like the dead.” I took out mugs from the cabinet. “Pretty morose for first thing in the morning.”
