Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Besides, there was no reason to bother anyone else. Even if I couldn’t manage to get myself bathed and dressed and out the door, there was always grocery delivery to fall back on.
Was that the healthiest idea, mentally? Probably not. I was so isolated already. The only times I’d left the house since Adelaide came was to take her to her pediatrician. Though I did have my postpartum visit scheduled in a few days to look forward to. Oh, joy.
But the outside world would come for me soon enough. I wasn’t in a big rush to get back out there.
Was I probably going to get bruised apples and wilted lettuce if I had it shopped for me? Sure. But I honestly barely even tasted my food these days. I caught myself shoveling the last of my shredded cheese into my mouth the night before for dinner like some kind of animal.
I thought about grabbing my phone, of opening an app, of browsing through the endless options of foods to add to a cart.
But I wasn’t sure I could pay that mental tax yet.
So I leaned back, let my eyes drift closed.
For just a moment, everything was still.
Then there was a violent crack splitting the quiet, followed by the unmistakable rush of water.
Adelaide’s body jerked.
A shrieking cry escaped her.
Somewhere deep in the house, a pipe surrendered.
CHAPTER TWO
Owen
You learned a lot about someone when their house was basically falling apart ever since they bought it.
The first thing that came to mind when I thought about Willa (‘Willow’ on my checks, but she’d introduced herself as Willa to me the first time) was that she was stubborn as hell.
Fine.
The first thing that came to mind was gorgeous. Because there was no way a man didn’t notice that right off the bat.
She was tall and a little willowy, with a sunny, delicate face, full lips, and gorgeous blue eyes. Her hair had changed on and off—sometimes a chestnut brown, sometimes a little more golden or blonde. No matter what shade, though, she was stunning.
But when it came to her house, yeah, she was stubborn. To her own detriment.
Anyone who paid what she must have paid for such a sprawling place shouldn’t be stuck repairing things left and right. But she refused to pack up, buy something else, and sell her money pit to some other sucker.
And, yeah, I easily learned that she had an eye for design and a liking for luxury but cozy fixes.
But I meant the smaller things too.
Like she liked her coffee (and all the various syrups that went with it), took out her ponytail or claw clips all over the house (even, occasionally, in the guest bathroom), liked soft singer-songwriter playlists, and never had spots on her mirrors.
More than that, though, you got to see the changes in their lives.
In Willa’s case, I noticed when there were suddenly two mugs in the sink, when there was a bottle of expensive whiskey next to her wine on the bar cart, then, of course, when those things were suddenly missing again.
I noticed bedroom nightstands covered in tissues.
Then a wastebasket with four pregnancy tests.
Prenatal vitamins on the counter next to her espresso machine.
Baby detergent in the laundry room.
Piles of tiny clothing.
Cribs, changing tables, and swings that needed to be put together.
Eventually, a rounded belly.
All the while, no extra toothbrush in the primary bathroom, no second mug, no men’s clothes in the house, no signs that there was anyone else in the picture but her.
And the baby that was coming.
It had been months since something in Willa’s house needed fixing.
But the call came at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning.
“I’m so sorry. I know it’s early. And it’s… it’s the weekend, right? I think so. I’m sorry, but—”
Willa sounded anxious, borderline panicked.
A baby was crying its lungs out in the background.
“What’s broken?” I asked, taking my coffee with me through my house toward my bedroom to get dressed.
“A pipe burst. I know that’s probably a job for a plumber, but you fixed my sink the last time, so I thought—”
“I can fix the pipe,” I assured her, my voice exaggeratedly calm to contrast her rising anxiety.
I marketed myself as a handyman, but I’d worked as a contractor for years and held certificates in just about everything from plumbing and electrical to HVAC. I figured that if I was going to run my own business, it needed to be evergreen. And people were always looking for a plumber, electrician, or HVAC guy they could trust. If they could have all that in one? Great. If that guy could also come and fix a hole in a wall or remodel their bathroom? Even better.
“Oh, thank God. I’m sorry it’s the weekend—”
“Don’t worry about it. Is the water off?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, good. I’ll be over in half an hour.”