All it took was a producer being at the bar that night and recognizing the talent.It all took off from there, and my dream of owning a bakery turned into me cheering on Miles and his dream.
There are days I wish it never happened because it was ultimately our demise, but that thought is accompanied by guilt.Maybe we needed the space.Maybe we needed to watch ourselves implode in the worst possible ways to understand that what we had together was rare and beautiful.
I drive around back, pulling in so I can unload all the shit I’ve piled in the back of my car.Letting out a hard sigh, relief sets in that I won’t be living with my mom for much longer.But more than that, I have something to look forward to.Starting the bakery will consume my time—less worrying about Isaac, more moving on.
Moving on with Miles.
A place we were always supposed to be, but it took us a while to realize it, and to make it happen again.But I plan on spending the rest of my life making it up to him, to making sure he can trust me wholeheartedly like he did all those years ago.
Stepping out of the car, I walk around back and take an armload of stuff up to the door.I set it all down and do it again until everything is piled right near the door.
It feels crazy to pull the keys from my pocket and push open the door to a house that is mine.
Not just mine.
Mine and Miles’s, and without Miles, none of this would have been possible.
Real estate on Maui is insane, so I can’t even imagine what he paid for this, especially having the guest house out back.
I still can’t believe he did this after everything that happened between us.He’s a better person than I am, and always will be.
As soon as the door opens fully, I’m hit with the musty, old smell of a house that has been closed up for years.Everything is covered in dust and cobwebs and possibly some mold, but behind it all, I can see a place Miles and I will call home.
I had the water and the electricity turned back on, but I haven’t tested any of it because the last thing I need to do is flood the place if the pipes won’t hold water.Or worse, flip on a light switch and have it go up in flames.
I need to get a contractor out here to take a look at it, but that costs money—lots of money—so my hope is that things work well enough to live here in the meantime.
Instead of bringing in all the cleaning supplies, I move through the house, opening the windows to let some air in.It can only help at this point.
As I’m doing this, I hear Sage calling my name, and when I make my way back through, I find her standing in the doorway.She’s hesitant to come inside, her nose wrinkled up at the stench, looking around at the mess.
“You can’t live here,” she instantly says, shaking her head as she picks up a bucket and a mop that I’ve left by the door.
“Yes, I can.It’s not that bad,” I tell her, but I know it is.I’m just trying to delude myself into believing I can fix this with some elbow grease and a bucket of Pine=Sol.
“I mean, eventually you can, but right now, it looks like something…” She pauses again, taking in the space in front of her.“No offense, but it looks like something out of a horror movie.You sure someone wasn’t killed in here?”
I let out a laugh because she’s right.It certainly does look like that, and honestly, I have no idea if someone was killed in here.It really does look like it could have happened.
“I’m sorry,” she quickly adds.“It’s not that bad.”Shrugging, she begins bringing in the cleaning supplies, setting them down inside the house now.
Sage is far too sweet to ever insult someone, and for her to even make the comments she did is bold for her.But I get it.The place is an absolute mess.My mom would lose her mind if she saw it, which is why I haven’t even mentioned it to her.
“It has a kitchen,” Sage now says, walking toward it.She opens a cabinet and suddenly lets out a high-pitched scream.
A family of moths flutter out of it right into her face, and she swats at them, running around, her eyes closed.
As soon as she recovers, both of us are laughing hysterically, tears streaming down our cheeks.
“I’m pretty sure that’s probably going to be the least scary thing we see today,” I say, and Sage nods enthusiastically.
“We’re lucky it was just moths and not rats,” she adds, and I clench my teeth together, letting out a low whistle through them.
“This is so true.I don’t even want to think about what’s living under the sink,” I quip, and our eyes dart to it.
We might be laughing now, but who knows what we’ll uncover.
We spend a good solid five hours cleaning just the kitchen and living room areas, scrubbing everything down.Every cabinet, every inch of old Formica countertops that are flecked with gold, the rusty sink, and the cement floors that have been stripped of any flooring.
