He holds my gaze for several silent beats, then: “How did you know who I was?”
I could leave him in limbo, but I think it’s better if I tell him.
“My aunt mentioned the neighbor across the hall,” I answer.“Who decided that there shouldn’t be any children in the building?”
His brows pull together.“Not sure.But that’s one of the reasons I bought this place.Your aunt approved anyone who purchased or rented units since she was the head of the board.She enforced that rule.”
I wrinkle my nose.“That doesn’t sound like her.”
He tilts his head, eyebrow lifting.“Being head of the board, or the rule about children?”
“Both,” I sigh.
“You’re the niece who travels a lot, right?”he asks, watching me as though he’s flipping through some invisible folder labeledAunt Lina’s Life...or something.
I narrow my eyes.“How would you know there’s a traveling niece?”
He lifts a shoulder and brings his fingers back to the strings, brushing them lightly as if the conversation isn’t worth more than a halfhearted chord.
“Oh, no,” I cut in.“You can’t just drop that and hope I’ll let it slide.”
He stops again.His jaw tightens, and he draws a slow breath, bracing himself.“Oh.I see.”
“You see?”I say, preparing for whatever accusation he thinks he’s about to win.
“You’re one of those people who can’t handle quiet, need every detail explained, and—” his gaze drifts over me, head to toe, unfiltered, “—you probably rearrange hotel furniture because it felt wrong the way you found it.”
I find it irritating that he guessed the last part, maybe even offended.
“So what if I feng shui a place?”My voice rises with irritation I don’t bother suppressing it.“I’m not putting my child in a room that gives off strange energy while we figure out how long we’re staying.”
It’s true.Mila deserves comfort and calm wherever we land.I do what I can to give her that.
He blinks.“Feng what?”
“Feng shui,” I repeat.“It’s about arranging a space so it supports you instead of working against you.”
“So I was right.You’re indeed the traveling niece,” he says, sounding way too smug about it.“I thought so.”
“How did you know about me?”I press.
He shifts, placing his hand across the strings to mute them.“She mentioned you.Red hair, bubbly little thing.Said her niece was somewhere overseas, traveling with a child, writing stories for magazines and all that shit.”
I blink at him.“Magazines andall that shit?Is that how she said it?”
He lets out this dramatic exhale, like I’m wearing down his last nerve, and I can’t help enjoying how frustrated he’s getting.Maybe tomorrow I’ll let Mila unleash half her usual questions on him.He could use the mental workout.
“Listen, your aunt was a lovely woman with thousands of stories,” he states.“I can’t remember them all, but I retain what seems important.”
“Would you know why she left all this to me—” I pause, searching his face for even a flicker of insight, but he doesn’t look at me.His attention stays pinned to his guitar, as though the answer might be tucked between the strings.“Temporarily.”
His head jerks up so fast I almost step back.“You’re just here for a few weeks?”The spark in his eyes is unmistakable—like I’ve just announced his early release from a sentence he didn’t want in the first place.
“I mean, I have to stay a year to fulfill some stipulations,” I say casually instead of explaining everything my aunt wanted me to do while I’m here.
“How much do you want to leave tomorrow?”he asks.
I blink.“Excuse me?”The words sit somewhere between disbelief and irritation, my brows rising higher than they should.
