I remindmyself Spencer is only here because of my brother’s concern, but I can’t help but be giddy at his nearness. The way he smiles at me. How normal it all feels. The last time we were together, he was cruel. Punishing. The hatred in his eyes was obvious and I believed I’d lost any chance I could’ve had with him in that one moment.
Now, I have hope. I’m stupid to believe he could forgive me for marrying Earl without telling him, but I can’t help it.
It’s there, a tiny glimmer flickering deep in my heart. If anyone would’ve shown up out of the blue, I would’ve wanted it to be Spencer. No one else. Not even my brother or sister.
Especially not them. They would’ve eventually told our mother and she’d come right out here and try to drag me home. If she’d shown up when I first arrived, I might’ve let her. It was so scary, so quiet, so dark at night.
The darkness terrified me at first. What could be creeping out there? I had visions of people dressed in black slipping through the trees. Like a gang of ninjas sent on a mission to abduct me and bring me back to New York City against my will.
My imagination has always run totally wild. When I was young and under my mother’s supposed care, my life was simple. Boring. Locked up in a room, forced to remain in bed. Alone with my thoughts and imagination, which grew and grew.
I needed something to entertain myself.
Fortunately, no ninjas came out of the forest ready to abduct me and I grew more and more comfortable staying here. Living here on my own.
Sometimes it hits me, that this ismyhouse. That it belongs to no one but me. I don’t know what that’s like, to own something that’s only mine. Anywhere I’ve lived has belonged to the Lancaster family. Or when I married and moved in with Earl—that apartment I’m still in now may belong to me, but it was Earl’s first.
Earl may have bought this, but he put it in my name before he died, and never came out here. It’s basically untouched by anyone I know or am related to.
It’s all mine.
And now I’m sharing it with Spencer.
I lead him through the house, not embarrassed in the least that it’s seen better days. It has good bones, and eventually, I’ll have it remodeled.
When I pull him into the elevator that will take us to the second floor, he finally breaks the cool façade.
“An elevator? For two stories?” He strokes his chin. “Kind of unnecessary, don’t you think?”
“What if you’re handicapped? In a wheelchair? This is so much easier. It’s nice to have options,” I remind him, bracing my hand against the wall when the elevator shudders before it starts its ascent. “It’s not in the best condition though.”
It halts at the second floor, giving another heaving shudder before the doors slide open.
“I’ll say,” Spencer drawls as he exits the elevator.
I follow behind him, dodging around him so I can continue showing off the house. I point out all the bedrooms, saving mine for last. It’s at the end of the hall, and when we walk inside, he stops short at the wall of windows that greets him. The vivid green forest the sole view.
“It looks like you’re sleeping in the trees,” he says, his voice tinged with awe.
He described it perfectly. That’s exactly what it feels like. The towering redwoods surround the window, the glass so clean it looks like you can reach out and touch them. The house sits on a hillside, and the second floor makes it feel like you’re suspended in air. Among the trees.
I love it, and I’ve never been one who’s drawn to nature. I grew up in the city after all.
I watch him stand in front of the windows, staring out at the scenery. He looks completely out of place, standing in this rundown house while clad in a ten-thousand-dollar suit. Immaculate and without a hair out of place, despite traveling over five hours in a plane to find me.
Most likely a private plane, so it wasn’t too much of a hardship, but still.
“This is the best room in the house,” he declares, glancing over his shoulder to look at me.
I nod my agreement. “The view is stunning.”
“There are no curtains on the windows,” he observes.
“I wake up to the view every morning.” He turns away from me, staring out at the forest once more. “There’s no point in covering it. The trees are so dense, the sun doesn’t penetrate enough to be overly bright. And no one is out here. There’s no need for privacy.”
“I don’t know if I could ever get used to this. Living out here,” he says absently, almost to himself.
“It’s amazing how quickly you can adapt.”