The rain was coming down harder, clearing the streets of people.
The warm glow from the old streetlamps shone brightly on the wet cobblestones, and I drew a big breath, inhaling my favorite season of all.
Fall.
The season of warm blankets, hot cider, and trees burning in orange and red.
Part of me wanted to run back to see if Ethan was at the gym, but if he was, he’d likely be busy. He’d given me a heads-up on Sunday that he had a packed week. Not only was he helping Darius with something, but he was welcoming a group of special needs students for classes that shut down half the gym while they were there. Apparently, he’d worked closely with gym teachers to construct a program for those who needed extra help training their motor skills.
Like, how was I supposed to hear stuff like that and remain unfazed?
He had the easy-to-love crapdown. And frankly, he hadn’t said anything lately that made him difficult to like, so I was becoming increasingly screwed each day. And not in the good way.
I did have a session with him tomorrow, though, since I’d missed my Monday appointment.
Checking the map on the screen, I veered right and then left. The storefronts became fewer and farther between, but it was still part of the heart of the Valley—andthere.
Cascadia Street. Number fourteen was mine. Or would be, when I got the keys.
I stopped in front of the store and looked up at it. I wanted to keep the wood exterior and simply paint it. I loved that older style, a bit rugged and quaint. Maybe light blue? Or sienna?
Design by Nolan.
It was a tiny little store. The main draw was the studio in the back, where I would create and design and store all my work. No more working from home. Ethan was clear on how bad stress was, and if possible, I should limit stress factors in my own home.
“Home is where you relax. From an early age, we start managing stress—and we’re great at it when we’re young, so we often take on more and more of it, because what’s the big deal? Then boom, you’re forty years old and having chest pains, tingling in your hands, and can’t figure out why those last ten pounds won’t burn off.”
Did he know that a big part of his magic was the warmth of his voice? I could listen to him recite the phone book.
I wiped raindrops off my face and squinted at the door. The rain kept pouring down, but I wasn’t ready to return home.
In my head, managing stress was about optimizing my work surface as well. I wanted an office I loved. I wanted my equipment organized and set up on white-painted workbenches.I wanted paintings on the walls in faded watercolors. Fresh flowers and comfortable lighting, bright when I needed it bright, dim when I needed it dim. And a comfortable couch for naps. Perhaps a new wooden countertop in the kitchenette.
I sighed contentedly and?—
“Natalie?”
I whipped around, startled, and I spotted Ethan crossing the street.
“Ethan. Wh-what’re you doin’ here?”
His mouth twisted into a lopsided smirk. “That was my question.” He held up a takeout bag and pointed down the street. “I live over there. Number ten.”
“Oh,” I exhaled. “Um…” Wow. Okay, I had to process. So I had rented my future studio, like, two doors down from where he lived, and my God, he looked good. It was embarrassing to admit it, but I had missed him. “This is going to be my studio.” I pointed to the storefront. “I get the keys soon.”
Ethan lifted his brows and checked out the store. “I’ll be damned. You’re stalking me.”
Just like that, tension evaporated, and I laughed.
“I mean, you move inright acrossfrom the gym,” he went on. “Now your office will be right next to my condo? Come on, Natalie. If you want a date, just ask.”
Ooof!
That one hit a little too close to home.
“Always a comedian,” I replied cheekily. “I’m afraid my dating apps are keeping me busy.”
His amusement faded, and he cocked his head. “Yeah?”
