I close my eyes and listen to the world around me instead. There is chatter from the street followed by a brash laugh that's muffled by a car going past. Birds chirrup, readying themselves for the evening chorus, and away over by the port a seagull cries.
All is right and good. Almost.
There's just one thing left to do. Possibly two.
What I hope is thing number one opens the door to the roof. The soles of his shoes slap against the concrete.
"Don't sit," I say without opening my eyes. "Your cologne taints the fabric and then Ed ends up smelling like you." I shudder.
"Shall I assume my position on the chimney pot, then?"
"Do whatever you please, as long as it's downwind."
Theo laughs, which is a gracious and therefore acceptable response given he should be kissing my feet.
I open my eyes.
His legs are stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows. As casual as he's curated himself, he still looks as expensive as he smells.
"Did you get it all back?"
"Almost. I don't think we need to quibble over a few thousand pounds. I think I got off very lightly."
"Indeed you have." I place my glass on the table and lace my fingers over my stomach.
Theo remains quiet.
So I raise my eyebrows at him.
"I…owe you a tremendous amount of gratitude."
"Yes. And you owe it to all the artists who helped in the planning and execution of getting your money back."
"I honestly don't know how I can thank you on the scale required."
"How about stopping being a total arseface about the rent?"
Theo nods and looks briefly out over the rooftops before focusing on me again. "Yes. Of course. We can go back to the original agreement."
"And you will agree to a fixed-term rent for five years. Should you want to increase the rent after that time, I have the right to buy you out at market rate."
Theo doesn't say anything.
"Remember how you just said you didn't know how you could thank us on the scale required?"
"Fine. Five years it is."
"Good." I sip my drink and look up at the early autumn sky. "God, this whole thing's been awful."
"Truly awful," Theo agrees. His feet scuff against the roof. "I really am sorry for dragging you into my stupidity. You do know that?"
"We do. It's why we're giving you the kind of second chance at being a landlord that makes it look like we have other options."
Theo laughs shortly. "Shame about the sculpture. You would definitely have had options then."
"What sculpture? I've expunged the whole sorry thing from my memory with a flame thrower. And some industrial-strength bleach for good measure."
"That woman, the daughter of the man who wrote the first letter, she's not causing any bother?"
