Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Jealousy means you give a shit.”
“Well, of course I give a shit.”
His face turned serious. “Do you think that’s going to change in a week or two?”
God, he was right. The summer was racing to a close, and I couldn’t imagine not seeing him anymore, much less walking away. He’d have plenty of women to take my place.
“No, I’m sure it won’t.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
I frowned. If only it were that easy.
He lowered his head and brushed his lips to mine. “Not too late to change your mind. Maybe you need a few Post-it reminders around the house of what this feels like.”
Something told me I wouldn’t need a sticky to remember how this summer made me feel. On the contrary, I might need something really potent to make me forget.
Chapter 23
* * *
Ford
I smiled, looking up at the old warehouse. I could definitely understand my dad’s excitement over it now. My parents had bought this landmark building in an estate auction. The time Dad and I spent working on the plans to restore and renovate it were some of my best memories of him.
I knew the building so intimately from photos and drawings, yet I’d never been inside. There was always one reason or another why I couldn’t make the trip to check on things out here in Chicago. But it had never felt like a rush—because we had plenty of time. Until suddenly we didn’t anymore.
Selling the building a few months after my Dad died had been difficult. But when an offer for more than we’d paid for it fell into my lap, it seemed like I didn’t have a choice. Still, fate had a way of bringing things that were meant to be back to you sometimes.
Like Valentina.
And this place.
A white BMW pulled up in front of the building and parked. Louise Marie Anderson had a picture on her business card in my dad’s rolodex, so when the driver got out of the car, I was pretty certain it was her. She smiled as she walked toward me.
“I don’t have to ask who you are. You’re the spitting image of your dad.” She reached out her hand. “Louise Anderson. But my friends call me Andi.”
I smiled. “My dad referred to you as Andi, so I’ll take that as a good sign.”
After she shook my hand, she didn’t let go. She wrapped her other hand around mine. “I was so sorry about the loss of your parents. They were such good people.”
I nodded. “Thank you. My sister and I appreciated the flowers you sent. It was very thoughtful.”
“Of course.” She shook her head. “I used to melt at the way your dad looked at your mom—the way they were always holding hands. They seemed like two teenagers in love.”
My brows drew down. “I didn’t realize you’d met my mom. We always joked around that Dad had a girlfriend here because neither of us got to come on his trips to Chicago.”
“Oh, no. She came here quite a few times. In fact, when they first came to look at this building—must’ve been seven years ago now—the thing they loved most was the top floor. They’d talked about making it into an apartment for themselves.”
Huh. I guess my mom didn’t want me to feel bad that I could never go with Dad on his trips. That would be just like my parents, though—to want to make a little love nest for themselves in a building they bought.
When they were alive, their constant touchy-feely had been sort of gross to me—they were my parents. But for some reason, after they passed away, those were among my most treasured memories.
“Well…I’m looking forward to seeing the place. I can’t get over that it’s back on the market in such a short time.”
“Divorce.” She nodded. “Hate to say it, but probably seventy-five percent of my repeat property sales are due to a breakup.”
Andi and I toured the empty building. It was such an odd feeling to walk through the space Dad and I had spent so many years working on. When I’d decided to come check it out, I thought expanding to Chicago as Dad had planned to do and building our dream conversion project would bring me some sort of closure. I’d always regretted having to sell this building. But being here brought a dull ache to my chest and made my shoulders feel like I was carrying a barbell with a hundred pounds of weights.
The building was eleven stories, so it took us a while to walk through. By the time we got to the top floor, the place my parents had imagined making into theirs, I was starting to feel like I needed some fresh air.
I tugged at my tie and loosened it as I followed Andi around. She pointed to a wall of windows. “These are old, obviously. And not very heat efficient for Chicago winters. But Marie loved them. She told Michael she wanted to have them made into doors to use inside the space as room separators. I’m not sure how easy that is to do, but he seemed to love the idea.”