I shut the door behind him and shiver again.
It’s cold out there, and the rain is coming harder,ping ping ping-ing against the roof.
Everything about the cabin feels warm and secure.
I don’t think we’re in danger of roof leaks.
I hope.
Buildings and I don’t always have the best luck.
But lately, Cash has always been around to fix what’s broken.
Not that I couldn’t figure it out if I had to. I’ve just been so busy with touring, writing, recording, avoiding the sound of my own voice singing about wanting to forget Christmas but falling in love over the holidays instead…
And I like it when he comes over.
It’s dumb. I know he looks at me like a young performer to mentor. He’s been in a band. He’s an actor now. He knows more about my life than I probably do, so helping me out is paying it forward.
Plus, in the time I’ve lived in his pool house, he’s been publicly linked to at least four different girlfriends. And that’s only what I’ve noticed when I’ve looked at the gossip pages.
There have been weeks at a time when I couldn’t be bothered.
“Cozy,” Cash says as he glances around, pausing in the middle of the room, hands still in his pockets.
Itiscozy. The log walls, the art prints of forest scenes, the jade-and-amber patterned rug, the brown faux leather sectional separating the living room from the small kitchen area, the stone fireplace and mantle, the windows framing the fireplace that look out over the pine forest up here, with the brown curtains featuring cute little bears—it’s perfect.
For a sologet back to centerretreat.
I pick up my phone and settle into the deep cushions of the L-shaped couch opposite the fireplace. “I got lucky.”
“Just booked it today?”
“Yeah.”
“Staying long?”
“Ten days.”
“By yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“If I didn’t scare you away?—”
“You didn’t.”
“I thought you were staying with Waverly for the holidays.”
“Plans changed.”
“You two have a fight?”
“What? No. Absolutely not.”
“I’ll be in the city for the holidays. Won’t bother you a bit if you wanted to keep your original plans.”
I lift my head from the email I’m typing out to the owners about how to clear a tree from the driveway. “Oh my god,it wasn’t about you.”
