I went still.
Yeah, no.
That wasn’t even a real option. My mom had gotten remarried recently, and the last time I was over there she spent the entire evening glued to her new husband like he was some kind of prize she didn’t want anyone to take. The thought of being stuck in that house all summer, pretending I didn’t exist while they played perfect couple, made my skin crawl.
Dad knew that, which was why he said it.
I swallowed down the rest of my argument, because there wasn’t one left that was actually going to change anything.
“Fine,” I said.
He didn’t answer right away, and I knew exactly what that meant. He was waiting for me to stop sounding pissed off and say it like I meant it. God, I hated that.
“Fine,” I snapped again. “Send me his address.”
“I will,” he said simply.
I hung up before he could say anything else.
The second the call ended, I yelled at my phone. “Fucking, bullshit!”
There was a pause.
I looked up.
The plumber was standing there, clipboard in hand, watching me with the careful, polite expression of someone who had just witnessed a stranger spiral and wasn’t sure if they were about to be dragged into it.
Heat rushed up my neck.
“Hi,” I said quickly. “Sorry.”
He lifted the clipboard a little. “I just need a signature for the repair authorization and mold treatment.”
“Right,” I muttered, pushing off the counter and walking over. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
I barely skimmed the form before signing where he pointed, because what was I going to do, argue with mold?
He took it back with a small nod, glancing past me toward the hallway. “They’ll start treatment tomorrow. You probably won’t want to stay here during it.”
“No,” I said dryly. “I definitely won’t.”
He gave a polite smile, like he was trying not to laugh, then stepped away to get back to work.
I stood there for another second, gripping my phone a little tighter than necessary.
I should have been spending the summer in London, running around and getting away with way more than my dad would have liked, not stuck here dealing with mold, summer classes, and now this. I had already made peace with the fact that my punishment was going to be staying home, going to work, and pretending I was suddenly the kind of girl who learned her lesson. That was one thing. Being shipped off to stay with one of my dad’s friends like I couldn’t be trusted alone was something else.
Jonas was basically a stranger, but worse than that, he was a stranger my dad trusted, which probably meant strict, responsible, and deeply annoying.
I exhaled hard, shoved my phone into my back pocket, and turned toward the stairs.
Fine. If I had to go live under some control freak’s roof while my dad played businessman in London, then maybe I could make it interesting for myself. Maybe Jonas would be easier to deal with than my dad. Maybe he’d actually fall for a little sweet talking. Maybe I could push a little and see what happened. Stay out later than I was supposed to. Talk my wayinto some freedom. Slip out to parties at the pier if I got bored enough.
And somewhere under all the irritation, buried just deep enough to be annoying, was a small flicker of curiosity I couldn’t quite shake.
Jonas.
Yeah.
