I want to provoke and tease until he gives himself to me, rough and tender.

There’s no furniture left inside Maison de Destin, so I guess it’s walls, sills, and benches for us. We wouldn’t make it to my bed. I don’t care if this ruins us, or the house. I need to feel him, deep. I never want to feel hungry again.

I want to kiss Tom Valeska until everything falls apart.

I may as well have said all of that aloud, because he closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them, they’re like flames.

Chapter 18

I hurry down the broken front path because I’m chickening out in a major way.

The drive home was tense enough to break bones. Every red light, we looked at each other and had to grab on to the car. I’m aching from the effort. So now I’m possibly about to put my mouth on my childhood friend. The one person left that I can’t mess up. And I’m the first woman he’ll be with since his epic eight-year romance?

I’ll be the second woman he’ll sleep with, and meanwhile, my body has frequent-flier miles? I need a minute. I need to smell my armpits and brush my teeth. I only make it to the front door before I feel Tom’s hand on my arm.

“Come down the side of the house.” He squints up at the sky. “I think it’s going to rain.” He makes it sound like very bad news.

“I want to say goodbye to the fireplace.” I’m not even kidding. I want to sit against it, and think about Loretta, and ask her in my mind for her advice.

“It’s not safe in there.” He takes my forearms in his hands. “The power’s off. Come on.” It’s weird and overly insistent. He begins to tug me, and my suspicion deepens.

“Why, what’s in here?” I twist away and get my key in the lock, kick the door open with my toe, and finally see why he’s holding me back.

My fireplace is gone.

Whoever took it down didn’t do a particularly artful job. There’s a pile of bricks remaining and a hole in the ceiling, covered over by a tarp. The worst part is, Tom was right. The house now looks huge, stretching all the way to the back door. I see now what all of this was.

“Did Jamie tell you to just do it and beg forgiveness later?” I don’t turn my head. I know the answer. “Specialist demolition, huh?”

“I had to make a decision on the spot. I couldn’t get those guys for another two weeks, so I …” He puts his hands on my waist and turns me to him. “I’m sorry. I was hoping you wouldn’t see until the morning. I was going to get up early—”

“And you’d say that you had some guys in at the crack of dawn. I’d say, Wow, how’ d you do that so fast? I click my fingers”—I snap them in his face—“and my wish is granted. You’re the good guy just doing what I asked you to do.”

“Yeah. That was my plan.” His eyes get a little mean. “That’s my role in your family, right? I’ve got to achieve whatever you guys need, instantly and perfectly. Or I’m out.”

“What are you talking about?” What a bizarre thing to say. “I can’t believe you took me out of the house while this happened.” I try to shake him off. “You were counting on the fact that you can get me to say yes to anything.” How fucking embarrassing.

“I was counting on you being reasonable and trusting me that this is the best way forward.” He holds me back firmer as I push against him. “There’s stuff all over the floor. It’s a building site. Talk to me. Yell at me.”

Outside, there’s a rumble that for a split second I think is Vince’s car. Light flashes, and I realize it’s a storm, and it’s rolling our way. We both look up at the new hole in the ceiling. The tarp puffs up in the wind.

“Oh fuck,” Tom breathes. “This really was not in the forecast.”

“Will it flood?” I step out of his hands.

“If they’ve done it right, it shouldn’t be too bad,” he says, but his eyes are doubtful as he looks down at the messy half-finished job, the bricks and the dust. He drops his grip on me. “I’ll go up and check.”

“Sure, like I’m letting you get on a roof at night when it’s about to rain. You have to live with this now.” I feel sick satisfaction when I see the look in his eyes. “You thought that you could get a little retroactive permission for something that had already been done. So, let’s just stay here and see if it leaks. I hope it does.”

“That makes no sense. This is your house.”

“I’m very irrational. I can’t believe you didn’t even let me say goodbye to it.” Another fresh wave of anger and disbelief strangles me.

“To a fireplace?”

“Yes, to a fireplace. You knew I loved it. You knew how much it meant to me. You said we’d light it again before the house sold.”

“You lived here on and off for years. You could have lit it anytime.” He leans a shoulder on the door frame and looks down at me in challenge. “That’s you, though. You just think you can pick things up and put them down, and they’ll always be there.”

My insides jump and I scramble around for something to do. “Aside from being spineless, and bowing to Jamie like always, you were unprofessional.” I bend down and pick up two bricks. “You know you were.”

“I had one owner’s agreement.” He’s distracted, watching me move back and forth across the room. “What are you doing?”

“Making a neat pile. There’s nothing left for me to demolish, after all.” I go back, pick up two more, but he takes my hands, turns them palm up, and dusts them off. Princess Mode activated.

The urge to slap his cheek shocks me.

“I expected better from you. If I’d opened the front door, and the fireplace was still there, it would have been proof that I’m your equal business partner. But it’s obvious that I’m just another bit of red tape to get around. You are always going to choose Jamie. Always.”

“I saw a way of getting more money in the sale. The budget is—” he clamps down on the rest of that sentence. “I know you don’t care about money, but that’s all I care about right now.”

“You said earlier that we were a team. So let’s wait here, as a team.” A spatter of rain hits the porch, and a gust of wind blows through the house like it’s just come straight off the ocean. “Let’s see how bad this gets.”

Tonight, at the bar, soaking in his attention and love? It was a glimpse of what I’ll never get.

His jaw is getting that familiar stubborn edge to it. “I said I’m sorry. I wanted to stay ahead of schedule, and I knew this was the right thing for the renovation. If this happens, then the flooring can happen early. I’m not used to having emotions attached to a house I’m working on, or more than one person to ask.”

“Sorry to inconvenience you with my feelings.” I bend, pick up bricks, and add them to my pile. “Must be rough for you, having to work around me and my tiresome grandmother memories.” I realize that the floorboards in front of where the fireplace stood are visibly worn. That’s how often we stood there. And it’s gone. “This wasn’t yours to knock down, Tom.”

“I can’t understand being attached to a fireplace. I’m never going to inherit anything. Mom’s broke. My dad, well.” He half laughs, and it’s bitter. “He lasted about three months after the pregnancy test. Consider yourself lucky to have had a fireplace in the first place.” I try to interrupt but he won’t let me. What he needs to say has been building inside him a long time. “I have all these emotions and memories floating around inside me, but I have no right to any of them.” It’s the closest Tom has ever come to complaining about his situation in life. “I’m hired to do this. Think about how that feels for me.”

I pick up another brick. “As far as we’re concerned, she was your grandmother, too.”

“All I’ve got to prove that is an old Garfield key ring.” It’s a painfully true statement. He didn’t get anything in her will. He realizes instantly what that sounded like, and adds, “But I didn’t expect anything. I’m not a Barrett, after all.”