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“Where are they?” I ask.
“I uh … gave them away.”
“For Frosty the fucking snowman’s sake … did you get rid ofallthe decorations? Not having this place decorated for the holidays is nearly as bad as no longer owning it. How am I supposed to explain this to my mom?”
She shrugs. “Not my problem. It’s my house. And I don’t decorate for Christmas. I had to get rid of some shit. Why would I keep it?”
“Shit? It’s not shit. Do you have any idea how many dollars in outdoor lights you gave away?”
“No.” She lifts one shoulder.
“Sorry, writer woman, you must be rich. Lucky you. But I’m not, and now I have to buy a crap ton of lights to replace the ones you gave away.” I shut the door behind me.
“Hey!” she yells when I reach the sidewalk. “You can’t be mad at me for that. Are you out of your mind?”
I keep trekking my way toward home. “You ran into my mailbox and stole my house. I can do whatever I want.”
SERENA
“Hi.” I open the front door to my … guest? No. That’s not right. Roomie? No. He’s not a roomie.
Tennant? Nope. Not unless he’s paying rent.
“Are … you going to invite me in?” Henry asks.
“Of course. I was just trying to figure out how I would explain you if I had to.”
Henry stares at me with his duffle bag slung over a shoulder. “To your assistant?”
I shake my head. “She went home for the holidays. I mean … just to anyone.”
He pulls off his beanie to reveal his dark head of matted hair. But those eyes … their blue perfection makes up for everything else that’s a little unkempt. “I’m a thirty-one-year-old male. Six-two. A Pisces. I’m freakishly good at badminton and pickleball. Single, but not desperate. And I might have a walnut allergy because when I eat them my tongue feels like it’s been attacked by razor blades.” He shrugs. “You could start there if you have toexplainme.”
I step aside and press my lips together for a beat before murmuring, “Not exactly what I meant.”
Henry stomps his brown work boots on the mat before stepping inside. “I’ll put my stuff away. If you want to help out, you can get the lights out of the back of my van and take them out of their packaging.”
“I don’t want to help you do that.” I follow him to my bedroom, where he shoves clothes into drawers and onto hangers next to my clothes. “Do you know if there are hidden areas in this house? A secret door? A space beneath floorboards. Anything like that?”
Henry exits the closet, tossing his duffle bag on the floor and kicking it under my bed.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m looking for something.”
“If it’s in a hidden spot that you know nothing about, then it’s safe to say it’s not yours.”
I lift my chin. “Everything in this house is mine.”
He smirks. “I’m in this house.”
Don’t grin. Don’t grin!
I grin.
Henry’s amusement vanishes. “You scare me.”
“Why?” My accidental amusement sags into a frown.
