“What would you use it for?” he asked.
“Well, I told you about how I’m really into drawing and graphic designs. I could turn it into my own little space to work. I’ve already got my iPad, already have a laptop. I wouldn’t call it a she-shed, though. I really don’t like that title for it. Maybe I’ll call it the Samira Escape or something.”
He chuckled and opened his arms to me. “That is actually very fitting for you.”
I moved between his long, toned arms, resting my head on his chest.
“Do whatever you want with the shed, Samira,” he said, then kissed the top of my head. “Her stuff can’t stay there forever. And I know you’ll take care of it.”
“I will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I’d decided to wait until the weekend to go through the shed. It was still snowing, but the snow was slowing down over the weekend and the sun was making an appearance after several days of gray skies.
I asked Dylan if he could take me to town for supplies and he had no problem doing so.
“So why are we shopping for trash bags?” he asked when we got into the warmth of the store. He loosened his scarf, taking a look around as I went for a shopping cart.
“I’m clearing out Melanie’s shed.” I pushed the cart ahead and went to the aisle for the trash bags.
“Roland is okay with that?” Dylan asked, following behind me.
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “He gave me permission. I’m gonna clear it out so that I can make it a working space for myself.”
Dylan fidgeted at my side as I browsed the gallon-size bags.
“That’s a lot of work. Should just burn the whole thing and be done with it,” he said with a nervous laugh.
I glanced at him, but he was no longer looking at me. His eyes were distant, looking past me at the end of the aisle, as if deep in thought.
* * *
When we got back to the mansion, Dylan left without coming inside, which I found surprising because he always came in to hang out a while and even ate with us sometimes. Roland was on a phone call anyway, so I kept my coat on, collected the bags, and stepped out of the sliding glass doors to get to the backyard patio. I was dressed in a chunky beige sweater, a scarf, leggings, and polka-dotted rain boots. I could see the shed from where I stood, the burgundy a stark contrast against the bare branches and distant green pines. It seemed so far away, and yet it was only a short walk. It was about thirty yards or so away from the mansion. I liked that it wasn’t too close. It ensured privacy.
I left the deck, stepping onto the slush-like snow, feeling the warm rays of the sun beam down on me and caress my cold cheeks.
I made my way up the path toward the shed, my boots crunching on the pebbles. As I got closer to the shed, taking note of the naked tree branches and the ice droplets that clung to them, my heart started beating harder.
I swallowed and then drew in a breath, not stopping until I was right in front of the brown door. The gold doorknob was rusty, and the paint on the door had faded. There was a brown floor mat on the step with the words I hope you brought wine.
I took the step up onto the mat and clutched the doorknob. It was loose, jiggly. I gave it a light twist and it opened up right away. The door creaked loudly on its hinges, clearly not having been used in a long time. Stepping inside, I noticed the floors were made of hardwood. They were in great condition, which was wonderful news. Evie always said checking the floors was one of the most important things when renovating. Some floors had mold beneath, some had holes.
I stepped in and closed the door behind me, taking in the stacked boxes all over the room and on top of the L-shaped desk. There was a light green rolling chair in front of the desk with a coat of dust on it. Against the east wall was a built-in bookshelf full of books. The two windows were behind me, giving the inside of the shed ample light. Dust motes floated and drifted, some of them moving as I did. I looked up and there was a simple copper chandelier above me.
I smiled. This place wasn’t so bad. She didn’t seem to have much stuff—well, not as much as I’d originally thought. There had to have been at least fifteen boxes, big and small. I noticed a built-in heater near the wall by the shelves and walked between some of the boxes to turn it on. It roared to life and I waved a hand over the vents as cool air blew from it. When the air transitioned to heat I smiled again. I unwrapped my scarf, weaving my way through the boxes and hanging it on one of the built-in hooks by the door.