I reach out blindly and find a switch.
The lights flick on.
And—
I stop short and stare at what I would have never expected the older ladies to be hiding in their basement.
And judging by the way Cash goes completely still beside me, neither did he.
Chapter Fifteen
CASH
WE DON’T FIND a basement.
We find a time capsule.
A hidden 1950s apartment tucked beneath the house, complete with a retro living room, a postage-stamp kitchen, bright bedrooms, and a fake-grass patio.
All frozen in Technicolor.
“Wow,” Shay breathes.
“Wow isn’t enough.”
And yet, I’m having trouble focusing on the bright red mid-century sofas dominating the living room with a boomerang-shaped coffee table. And I’m a sucker for kitchen decor. The turquoise walls define the dining room in the open space, and the kitchen looks like it was pulled straight from a 1950s catalog.
Chrome-edged yellow dinette set.
Retro-patterned dishware.
Turquoise chairs and a chunky pastel lamp that casts a warm, nostalgic glow.
If my chest wasn’t locked so tight I can barely drag in air, my pulse thudding in my ears, I could absorb this gem better.
“I love this.” Shay steps onto the green turf and trails her fingers along the fringe of an umbrella straight out of old-Hollywood poolside glamour.
She tips her chin, and the corners of her mouth tug up in a grin that loosens my chest just a little.
But I say nothing.
I want to be as awed as she is.
Hell, on some level, I am. I know I’ll admire the creativity when I get my emotions buried back deep down where they leave me the hell alone. The reminder of that year lands like a punch to the ribs.
