THEO
“Any specific typeof food you’re in the mood for?” I asked Nora, pulling out my phone as we stood in the storage room in my basement on Sunday afternoon. It was just before five, and we’d spent the better part of the day going through Alisha’s things.
At times it had been harder than I’d expected. Certain pieces of clothing had brought back memories I hadn’t thought about in years. Certain handbags reminded me of trips we’d taken together. But now that everything was boxed up and stacked neatly in the storage room, I also felt something I hadn’t anticipated.
Relief.
Over the past two years I’d slowly started reshaping different parts of the house—rearranging furniture, swapping out photos and decor, trying to make the space feel like something Charlotte and I could actually live in again instead of a museum dedicated to what we’d lost.
The closet had been the final piece of that.
And while I still wasn’t entirely sure what wouldultimately happen to those boxes, since I’d decided to give myself a few months before making any permanent decisions, it still felt like a step forward.
I’d kept a few of the more sentimental items. A few things for myself. A few others for Charlotte to have when she was older.
But knowing that the closet behind that bathroom door no longer held a quiet mountain of emotional baggage…
Well… that felt like progress.
“I’m good with anything,” Nora said behind me. “Whatever you want, boss.”
I glanced over my shoulder just as she turned the last box in the storage room so the words she’d written on the side—Alisha’s bags, #2—were facing outward.
“What about the Italian Amigos?” I asked, suddenly craving their famous fajitas.
“Sounds great to me.”
“Anything you want off the top of your head?” I asked as we headed up the stairs. “Or do you want to look at the menu real quick?”
“I’ll get the rigatoni carbonara with blackened chicken, if that’s okay,” she said. “Lucy got me hooked on that this past spring.”
“Perfect.” I smiled, hitting the call button just as we stepped onto the main floor.
After placing the order, we drifted into the kitchen while we waited for it to be delivered.
“Want something to drink?” I asked.
“I’ll just take water, actually,” Nora said, stepping up to the counter. “Maybe with a lemon to make it fancy, if you have one.”
“I do,” I said, grabbing a glass from the cabinet.
She pulled out one of the stools on the other side of theisland and sat down, resting her elbows on the counter as she watched me.
I took in what she was wearing. A light purple tank top and jean shorts.
Simple. Casual. Especially compared to the parade of designer outfits we’d spent the afternoon sorting through. But somehow, this more casual outfit looked just as good on her as the designer dress had last night.
The color made her sun-kissed skin stand out, and the light dusting of freckles across her shoulders caught the late afternoon light coming through the kitchen windows.
I’d always assumed people with reddish-brown hair and freckles burned instead of tanned. But Nora’s skin clearly hadn’t gotten that memo.
If anything, she looked like she’d spent the entire past two weeks outside.
Which, knowing Charlotte, she probably had.
My gaze lifted to her eyes next, and when I caught her staring back at me with a smile, I realized a little too late that I’d been far from subtle in my appreciation of the view.
Heat crept up the back of my neck. Yep. Apparently, I was embarrassingly awkward around women I was attracted to. Especially ones I’d had steamy dreams about.