“For most of my childhood. Once I graduated high school, I visited less and less. I still called, but it wasn’t the same. We got together on holidays, like most families do. Then one Thanksgiving we didn’t come here. I asked why and my dad said that he and my mom discussed it and we were going to have a quiet Thanksgiving at home, just us. That was fine, but then every holiday it was the same.”
“Did you ever find out why they stopped going?”
“Not for many years. After Grandma died, Grandpa altered his will. That’s when he left this house to me.”
My mouth falls open. “I’m assuming your dad didn’t like that very much.”
I wait as Jimmy partakes in more of our ice cream concoction. He shakes his head. “Hated it. He and Grandpa barely spoke and when they did, they argued. I didn’t visit Grandpa too much because I felt like I was betraying my dad somehow if I did.”
“I can understand that. Did this affect your relationship with your dad?”
“Surprisingly, not as much as you’d expect. I tried to call Grandpa as much as I could, but I think he knew I felt trapped between him and my dad. When I did call, though, we talked for about an hour each time. I’d tell him about the house I was flipping and he’d tell me about the pretty woman next door I needed to meet.”
“What?” My arm unravels from his. “He wasn’t talking about me?”
“He sure was.”
“I barely knew him. We spoke a few times about that tree and I might have said hello a few other times.”
Jimmy offers me the rest of the ice cream. I decline, and he quickly finishes it off. “My grandpa didn’t need to talk to you all the time to know what kind of a person you were. If he was anything, it was a great judge of people. He always told me how pretty you were and even though you seemed hard on the exterior, he knew deep down you were a softie.”
“He didn’t say that.”
“He did. And the first time I met you, when you pounded on my door insisting my dog stop barking like he summoned spirits from an Ouija board, your hair was up in this messy bun. A few strands of hair were falling out. Your lips were pressed together so hard your cheeks were turning red. You entranced me.”
“Stop it. I did not.”
“Yes, you did. Then when you saw my tiny pup, even though you still acted angry, I saw a slight change in your demeanor. You thought he was adorable.”
I remember the first day I met Jimmy as well as he does, although I don’t think I was quite as upset as he claims. Kale’s bark, though, definitely didn’t fit his demeanor.
“He’s grown on me.”
“I’m glad.”
“You’ve grown on me, too.” I nudge him gently and he leans down and kisses me, and our lips take a moment to pull apart.
“Good,” Jimmy says. “Because you’re stuck with me.”
24
I’ve spentthe better part of today cleaning Alvin’s studio. Sure, being a housekeeper wasn’t something I envisioned when I took the job, but in my downtime I have to do something. I keep his social media so up to date I’d make Khloé Kardashian jealous. Now I only have to get his following up. Somehow I don’t think I’ll earn him the 94 million or so followers she has, but I can try. That’s my job, anyway.
By the time I’m on my way home, I’m exhausted. It’s almost after seven and I texted Jimmy that I would be home by now. We planned on going out to dinner, but I told him I’d pick up some burgers on my way home instead. Not the healthiest dinner, but who needs nutrition when I could spend quality time with Jimmy and Kale?
I turn down my street and my heart falls into my stomach when Jimmy’s house comes into view. A For Sale sign that wasn’t there when I left this morning is planted in his front yard.
I pull into my driveway a bit faster than intended. When I brake, I lurch slightly forward, my hands gripping the steering wheel.Deep breaths, deep breaths.
When I stomp across my lawn to Jimmy’s, déjà vu swims over me. My hands are balled into fists, my lips pursed like they always are when I have a bone to pick with him. My heavy fists pound on the front door and Kale barks behind it.
“Reese.” Jimmy opens the door. “Whoa, Reese. What’s with hammering my door down?”
“What’s going on?”
“What do you mean? You’re the one practically knocking my door down.”
My hand shakes as I point to the sign that’s now the centerpiece to his house. “You’re moving?”
