“Thank you so much.” Grace smiled as she rolled the plans back up. “I’d been looking at that for way too damn long, and you just saved me from one giant headache.”
“You’re welcome.”
As she tucked the plans away, she cast me a sidelong glance. “Okay, spill.”
“Spill what?”
“Clearly, something is up with you. You’re not nearly as enthusiastic as you normally are. What’s going on?”
I slumped into the comfortable chair in the seating area in her office; as owner, she rightfully had the biggest space, and she’d made it into a luxury home away from home because of how much time she spent there.
I explained to her the hiccups I ran into today with the back-ordered tile, the damaged marble slab, and the delays they caused.
“Okay…but that’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. And you seem frustrated over more than just some hiccups in your project schedules.”
I let out a wry chuckle. “You want the truth?”
“Always.”
“I need to get laid.”
A bubble of laughter escaped her. “Aw, did you hit a dry spell?”
“I’m in the damn desert, Grace. And there’s no water in sight.”
“How long has it been?” I let out a breath, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples; I really didn’t want to tell her, not when she probably had brag-worthy sex every night with her gorgeous husband. “Come on,” she said with a chuckle. “How long?”
“Five months,” I mumbled.
“Oh, goodGod.” She grimaced. “You poor thing.”
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically. “And here I was thinking it really wasn’tthatbad…”
Another laugh escaped her. “It’s notbad. I’ve known some people who went way longer without getting any. But what’s the problem? I know you’ve gone on some dates in the last five months.”
“They’ve all been terrible. And that’s not me being picky or exaggerating. Literally, every single one has been awful, and not anyone I’d want to take home, even for a night.”
“You don’t need to look for Mr. Right to get laid. You just need Mr.Right Now.”
“Even the ones I’ve met while out…I’m convinced there’s not a decent single man left in the Bayport/Charleston areas. I’m willing to lower my inhibitions, but not my standards.”
Instead of going straight to my apartment that evening after taking the ferry from Charleston back into Bayport, I headed toCallie’s. I pulled into her driveway and exited my car, carrying takeout from our favorite diner.
When she opened the door, she smiled at me, then at the bags in my hand. “You’re going to go broke if you keep buying me Harbor House.”
“Eh.” I shrugged as I walked inside. “Worth it.” I set the bags on the table and slipped off my jacket while she grabbed us something to drink. “What have you been up to?”
“Nothing much. I finished painting the guest room yesterday since I was cooped up inside because of the rain.”
Callie was in the middle of revamping her childhood home with plans to sell it in the not-too-distant future. She’d traveled around the States after leaving Bayport ten years ago but came back in August after her mom passed away to handle the estate. It was something shecouldhave done from San Diego, where she’d been for the past year, but she wasadamantabout coming back to “see it through.” I knew it was the guilt talking, but I wasn’t going to complain about it because I missed the hell out of her, and I’d take her being back for however long that may be. Thanks to the great State of South Carolina’s probate timeframe, I had at least six more months.
We’d been best friends since preschool, and life in Bayport hadn’t been the same since she left. And that was the other, more selfish reason I secretly hoped she mighteventuallywork things out with Lucas. Because maybe then, she would stay.
Iwantedher to stay.
“You look cranky,” Callie said as we sat at the table and opened our food containers.
“Why does everyone keep saying that to me today?” I huffed. “I am not cranky.”
