Page 9 of Homewrecker

“Then what?”

His eyes lifted to mine. “My delayed dream.”

I waited for more, but he didn’t give it. And because I didn’t know he had a whole woman at home who would’ve changed the meaning of that entire conversation, I filled in the blank myself.

I told myself he was a single man, in his thirties, and successful. Maybe he’d spent too much time building businesses and not enough building a life. It made so much sense that I never thought to ask.

That was the thing about lies… The best ones didn’t always require words. Sometimes all someone had to do was leave an empty space in the conversation and let you fill it with whatever made the most sense to you.

The project took six months. By the end, the place looked nothing like the concrete disaster I’d first walked into. The first night we turned every light on, I stood in the center of the empty dining room and smiled.

Caleb stood beside me. “This is it,” he said.

“I know.”

“You’re always this humble?”

“Yes, because my vision is always right.”

He smiled. “You know what’s crazy?” he eventually asked.

“What?”

“I couldn’t explain this shit to anybody.”

“You barely explained it to me.”

“But you got it.”

“That’s my job.”

“Nah.” I looked over, and he was watching me. “You got it before I did.”

Something about that felt more intimate than it should have.

I looked away. “Don’t get emotional on me, Whitmore. I still have a final invoice to send.”

“I’m serious. I’m trying to give you a compliment.”

“I accept compliments in the form of referrals.”

“You’ll get those too.”

He slid his hands into his pockets. “So we’re done.”

“Almost.”

“Almost?”

“We have a small to-do list tomorrow, a final walkthrough Friday, and then you’re free.”

“Free?”

I smiled. “From me.”

His eyes stayed on mine. “I don’t know if I like that.”

My stomach flipped. “You’re gonna have to survive.”