“Because electricity isn't a joke, Penny.”He eyed her worriedly. “Don't you legally need a valid residential electrical certificate of compliance to ensure a historic property like this is safely rewired? If the town building inspector catches you doing this without the proper credentials, they could shut your whole restoration project down.”
Penny had let out a sharp, amused snort, wiping a smudge of black grease from her cheek with the back of her gloved hand.
“I’m a corporate attorney, Martin. Do you really think I would ever violate a local building code?”She reached back up into the junction box, her fingers moving with practiced, expert precision.“I actually hold a fully valid, state-certified residential electrician's license.”
Martin had nearly choked on his own breath, his eyes widening in absolute shock as he stared up at her.
“You have a what? Why on earth would a high-powered lawyer take the time to get an electrician's license?”He gaped up at her.
She had given a casual, elegant shrug of her shoulders, moving seamlessly to the next part of the intricate wiring harness.
“Renovating and flipping historic houses is my most passionate hobby.”Penny didn’t look at him as she spoke. “It’s what I do to keep my sanity when the courtrooms get too loud. But a few years ago, after having been caught up waiting around for weeks whenever I needed a specialized contractor to pull a permit or hook up a basic breaker panel...”She paused, a flash of genuine, lingering frustration flickering in her bright eyes as she remembered the delay.“I got incredibly irritated becausetheir scheduling conflicts could delay my entire project by days, if not weeks. So I decided to heck with it, took the night classes, and got a few advanced technical certifications to ensure I never had to rely on another contractor again.”
Sitting at his desk, the memory played out in his head so clearly that Martin could practically feel the warm, dusty air of her dining room. He remembered how he’d stood at the bottom of that ladder, utterly captivated by her fierce independence, her brilliant intelligence, and the sheer, unapologetic capability she exuded. Martin had been so impressed by her and so charmed by the contrast of the elegant attorney working with heavy wire cutters that he had basically fallen for her right then and there.
Martin’s eyes suddenly widened in horrified shock, his breath catching sharply in his throat as the realization slammed into his brain like a physical blow.
He had just admitted it. Out loud, in the private seclusion of his mind, he had just consciously acknowledged that he had completely, undeniably fallen for Penny.
A sudden, intense wave of heat rushed up his neck, making his collar feel entirely too tight as a mild sense of panic began to flutter in his chest. He was a grown man, a widower who had spent years focusing strictly on his work, and here he was, getting flustered and hot under the collar over a woman who had simply slept on his shoulder.
Martin swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as he forced himself to look back down at the financial portfolio on his desk, his heart racing a mile a minute as he tried, and failed, to banish the thought of Penny from his head.
Martin finally gave up, the numbers on the client portfolio started to blur together into a messy smear of black ink. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, but the action didn’t help clear his mind. Instead, the quiet, golden light of the early morning seemed to shift, and the faint scent of jasmine vanished, replaced by a ghost of a different memory.
Images of his late wife, Suzi, began to form behind his eyelids, sharp and clear despite the years that had passed. She’d been his first and only love, his entire world. The only woman for him, right up until the moment she was ripped away from him, leaving a hollow space he’d spent years guarding until Penny had unexpectedly started dismantling his defenses.
Martin’s eyes grew heavy, the exhausting emotional whiplash of his sudden realization about Penny dragging his posture down. His chin dropped toward his chest, his breathing slowed, and his forehead eventually came to rest against the cool wood of his desk, the quiet room fading out completely.
Six Years Ago
The pristine white light of the hospital waiting room was blinding. Six years ago, the world had felt entirely different, colder, and sharply clinical. Martin could still feel the awful, electric unease vibrating through his entire body as he sat in one of those stiff, vinyl-covered chairs. His right knee was bouncing in a frantic, uncontrollable rhythm against the leg of the table, and his heart was racing so hard he could hear the blood rushing past his ears.
Beside him sat Suzi. Beautiful, vibrant Suz, with her flaming red hair that always seemed to defy the sterile environment, her jewel green eyes, and a bright, sudden smile that could effortlessly light up the darkest room in an instant. Despite the terrifying stakes of the afternoon, she sat perfectly composed, her hands folded neatly in her lap as if they were simply waiting for a table at a local restaurant.
She had been fighting a rare, aggressive autoimmune disease since she was just fifteen. It was a cruel, unpredictable condition that had spent her entire youth receding and returning, giving her brief periods of absolute freedom before suddenly flaring up to steal her breath away again. Before this latest scare, it had been gone without a trace for five glorious years. For five whole years, they had actually lived, breathed, and dared to build a real life together.
They’d bought a house, talked about the future, and smiled without reservations. But beneath the joy, there was always that terrifying, silent sense that they were still living right on the edge of a jagged cliff. They’d known, in the still spaces of the night, that it was just a matter of time until the ground crumbled beneath their feet and tipped them over the edge.
Two weeks ago, the illusion of safety had shattered. Suzi had become suddenly, violently ill. At first, she’d stubbornly put it off to a passing stomach bug or a bout of seasonal exhaustion from her work. But the illness didn’t get any better, her skin turning a translucent shade of pale that made Martin’s stomach drop. He’d practically begged her on his knees to call her specialist, but she’d just smiled, patting his arm and promising him that it wasn'tthosesymptoms.
She’d insisted she knew her own body better than any machine. Then, three days ago, she had collapsed on the kitchen floorwhile making tea, landing her straight in the emergency room. The medical team had spent forty-eight hours running a battery of invasive tests, and now, the specialist wanted to see them in his office to discuss the results.
"How can you be so incredibly calm?" Martin’s voice was hoarse with an agonizing level of anxiety.
His hands gripped the edge of his seat so tightly his knuckles were stark white. His heart hung heavy in his chest, and he couldn't shake the dark, suffocating feeling of total doom that had settled over him the moment they walked through the hospital doors.
As hard as Martin tried to stay positive, as much as he forced himself to picture a clean bill of health, he could feel the truth in his bones. Their time was ticking away, the seconds dropping like sand through an hourglass.
"Sweetheart," Suzi’s voice was incredibly soft, a gentle, soothing sound that cut right through his rising panic. She turned her head to look at him, her jewel green eyes remained calm, though there was a heavy, undeniable air of total exhaustion lingering about her features. "Do you know how many times I’ve done this exact routine?” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve been sitting in rooms just like this since I was a little girl. Panicking won't change whatever is written on that chart."
"But it’s been five years, Suz," Martin rasped, his throat tight as he reached over and covered her small hands with his own, his fingers trembling against her skin. "Five whole years of absolute remission. Why now? Why did it have to come back when we were so happy?"
"We don't even know if it’s that yet," Suzi pointed out gently, using her thumb to lightly stroke the back of his hand as she gave him a tired, beautifully brave smile. "It could just be a severe secondary infection. Please, sweetheart, you need to relax. I don't want you to have a heart attack right here in the corridor before the doctor even calls us in."
Martin looked at her, his vision blurring slightly around the edges as the sheer terror of losing her compressed his lungs. "Suz, my heart may as well just give in right now if there’s something seriously wrong with you. You know you’re the only thing keeping it beating."
The heavy double doors of the inner office slowly swung outward, and the clinical white noise of the corridor seemed to die instantly as the specialist stepped out, holding a thick manila folder. He didn’t smile, he just offered them a grave, tightly controlled nod that confirmed every single one of Martin's worst fears.
