I’ve been pulling fourteen- and fifteen-hour days pretty much since I arrived, so I don’t feel the least bit guilty cutting out of work early.
There’s a security fence inside the perimeter of the property. All the tradies seem to have gone home, except Dave, who is such a giant bear of a man that he dwarfs Greer as they sit on the dilapidated old front fence, waiting for me.
After a punishing handshake, Dave hands us a hard hat and leads us through the front of the house to the gaping hole in the back. I can’t believe how much they’ve achieved since they started demolition yesterday.
Greer manages to look both adorable and sexy in tight-fitting jeans, steel cap boots, a high-viz vest and a shiny white construction helmet. My heart rate picks up and my breath catches. I didn’t know whether to go in for the hug when I arrived. Greer took the decision out of my hands with a cool cheek kiss that I guess you could describe as politely friendly. To the outside observer, it probably looked like business as usual. But I felt the ice. And I don’t blame her.
I can’t quite read whether she’s hurt or angry. She’s within her rights to be both. Despite the slight chill in her manner, she’s acting as though it never happened. But it did. And I can’t stop thinking about it. Or feeling it. Over and over again. Like the tune of a song I can’t shake.
I’m both pissed and relieved that she seems to be putting it behind us. Just like I suggested.
Dave and Greer chatter on like the old friends they clearly are, talking some sort of building shorthand I have no hope of understanding. It’s noting more than a bunch of holes and piles of dirt until Greer starts pacing around, spraying hot-pink lines and shapes on the ground with a can of paint, and I can start to see how it will look.
There are two old trees in the backyard. An enormous jacaranda and an equally giant gum. The tree coming down on the roof really opened up the back yard and it looks much bigger than I remember.
“What do you think, Josh?” Greer asks. I’m miles away. Thinking about the day the tree took Greer and me out. What might’ve happened if it hadn’t. And what’s happened since.
“What do I think about what?” I shake off my contemplative thoughts and try and focus on her words. She gives a huff of irritation.
“Dave was saying his nephew has just qualified as a landscaper and is looking for his first solo job. He’d give you a good rate. And it would be good to get anything structural done before we get too far along with the house because access to the back yard will be tricky. What do you think?”
“Great idea. Let’s get him on board.”
“Righto. I’ll get him down tomorrow, and he can draw something up for you.” Dave pulls out his phone and knocks out a text, presumably to the nephew.
“Do you have any idea what you might want?” He raises expectant brows at me.
“You know, Greer’s the one to talk to about those things. I’ll be happy with a bit of a deck for barbeques and a super low-maintenance garden.” I have no idea about gardens. This will be the first time I’ve lived in a house since I was a kid. Even then it was mostly boarding schools. Then apartments in New York and London. A house means a home, which is what I’m looking for. “Oh, and a bit of grass. For a dog.”
Greer’s eyes light up. “Ooh. Get him to give me a call, Dave. I have some ideas.” I’ll bet she does. It crosses my mind that this house, when it’s finished, will be more Greer’s than mine. Which causes a pain somewhere in the vicinity of my heart. Or maybe it was the chilli crab I had for lunch. Yep. Definitely. The chilli crab.
“Okay. Will do. Anyway, I’d better hit the road, Jack. Gotta pick the kids up from soccer practice. Talk tomorrow, Gee. Don’t forget to lock the gate.” And with that, Dave is out the gate, returning Greer’s wave as he goes. Leaving me alone with Greer. She doesn’t waste any time.
“Is there something you might like to say to me?” she asks, her tone telling me the answer had better be yes, and I’d better get it right or be prepared for her to tear me a new one.
I’ve spent plenty of time thinking about this over the past few days, so I’m prepared. Even though I apologised on Friday night, it bears repeating, given the magnitude of my stuff up.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of your work colleagues. And I’m sorry I can’t be what you want.”
Greer looks momentarily surprised by my grasp of the situation. And maybe a little disappointed at the thwarted opportunity to tear into me.
“Right. Well. Thank you. You embarrassed me, Josh. It wasn’t okay. And just so you know, if you ever treat me like you did in the club again, you’ll wish it was Harry who got hold of you and not me.”
She turns to lock the gate, fiddling with the heavy chain and padlock. I wish I could tell her what I’m not sorry for. I’m not sorry for what happened in her apartment. Any of it. Because it was the best night of my life. But voicing those feelings is not going to help anyone.
Both our phones ping with a text as we’re walking back to our cars. It’s Will, suggesting a celebration dinner.
We eye each other warily.
“Well, we have to eat,” Greer says, popping the boot of her car and throwing the high-vis vest into a small basket
I’m about to decline when my stomach rumbles. Damn chilli crab.
“Yeah, I guess we do.”
Will and Ben meet us for dinner at Will’s favourite pub in Neutral Bay and we celebrate the breaking of ground with a bottle of champagne.
Greer turns to me once we’re all settled. She warmed up a little after my apology. Thank God.
