I don’t know a lot about Miles and Sarah’s history, but I know they went through some stuff. And I definitely got the sense her reason for avoiding hockey games runs deep.
I hope she’ll eventually trust me enough to tell me, but she asked me not to ask, so I won’t.
Still, it triggers something in me—some need to protect, to make sure she knows she will always be safe with me.
Finally, Shelby drops her phone into her bag and hurries up the driveway. “So sorry to keep you waiting,” she says. “I’ve got another deal that’s supposed to close tomorrow, and my buyers are getting cold feet, so that was me talking them off a ledge.”
“It’s no problem,” I say.
She glances behind us, eyes scanning the driveway. “I wondered if you might bring Theo to give you an extra opinion.”
Funny she should ask. Ididask Theo to come, but he declined, saying he thought it might be uncomfortable for Shelby if he did. I pushed him for more information, wanting to make sure he didn’t play her in a way that would require me to apologize on his behalf. He swore he didn’t. She just felt more of a spark than he did and was really disappointed when he called things off.
Shelby is beautiful and very much Theo’s type. And she’s been pleasant and easy to work with, so I’m not sure what Theo didn’t see in her. But he’s been cagey about relationships lately, talking less than he usually does. It makes me think he’s hiding something, but I couldn’t begin to guess what.
“No, he couldn’t make it,” I say. “He had somewhere else to be today.”
She gives me a pointed look. “In other words, he just didn’t want to see me?”
I respect her too much to lie to her, so I offer her a grimace. “Sorry. He said he thought it might make you uncomfortable.”
She huffs out a laugh as she unlocks the house. “That man—I swear, one day he’s going to make a woman very happy. But it might take a miracle worker to get him to open his heart.”
I study her, not sure how to sync up this version of events with what Theo told me. Maybe she misread the whole situation, but knowing what Theo has been through, it wouldn’t surprise me if he has a hard time opening up in romantic relationships.
I have no response to Shelby’s comment—I won’t utter a word against my brother in any circumstance—and she must realize as much because as soon as we’re in the entryway,she claps her hands. “Okay! Let’s look around,” she says.
I walk through the entire house, but at this point, it feels more like a formality. The interior is great. And the room over the garage really will be perfect for Sarah.
Shelby has been trailing me, pointing out her favorite features as we move from room to room. “So what do we think?” she asks as we make our way back to the kitchen.
“Pretty sure I want it,” I say. “I just need to call my girlfriend and make sure she agrees.” To my surprise, the wordgirlfriendrolls right off my tongue, no hesitation.
Shelby’s eyes widen. “Oh, fun! I didn’t realize. She’ll be moving in with you?”
“I hope so,” I say. “I’m about to propose, so that’s the goal.”
“Yay!” Shelby says, looking genuinely excited for me. “That’s seriously so great. I’m sure she’s going to love it.”
“Sarah’s in New York for work or she would be here,” I say. “But I’d like to FaceTime her so she can see it before we make an offer.” I pull out my phone and hold it up. “Do you mind if I…”
“Go right ahead!” Shelby says. “I’m just gonna head back to my car and answer some emails. Should I come back in about twenty minutes?”
“That’s perfect,” I say. “Thanks, Shelby.”
I pull up Sarah’s contact info and initiate the call. Even though I texted and gave her a heads up and she told me this morning she’d definitely be available, when the phone rings three, then four times without her answering, I start to worry I’ve somehow missed her.
“Hey!” she finally says as her face pops onto my screen. “Sorry. I was painting, and I had to scramble for the phone.”
“Sorry to disturb you,” I say.
“No! This is great. I’m due for a break. How’s the house? Do you love it?”
She must have the phone propped up on something, because her hands are both free. She’s sitting on a stool, and I can see a palette of paint on a table beside her, so I’m guessing the phone is on her easel.
She lifts her hands to the small of her back and stretches. Her hair is up, a scarf tied around it, and she’s wearing her green glasses. My favorite ones. Her eyes are bright, her face a little flushed, and she looks really,reallybeautiful.
“Where are you right now?” I ask.
