so tempting that she moved quietly past him, stepping into the hall, conscious of her every breath as she went.
After a few seconds he came to the doorway, leaning against the jamb with his freshly cleaned glasses back on, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. Behind him, the leavings of their work—his toolbox, discarded packages and tags—sat tidily, ready to be taken out, and she felt absurdly disappointed that the night was almost over.
Will cleared his throat.
“So,” he said, something tentative in his voice. She hoped he felt the same disappointment, but then she remembered their conversation from back when he’d first arrived.
She slapped a hand to her forehead. “Right, jeez. Let me get the money I owe you.”
“No, no,” he said quickly. “I mean, I didn’t mean that. I wanted to mention . . .” He trailed off, dropped his eyes. “You know, never mind. I could send you an email. It’s official building business.”
Ah, Nora thought, bracing instinctively for the shudder of anxiety she was used to feeling when they talked about the rental.
It still came, but it wasn’t nearly as . . . shuddery. Anxious-y.
“You listed your place?” she guessed.
“Yeah. The day after we went to the beach. But it’s actually—” He broke off, cleared his throat again.
She smiled across the short space of hallway, encouraging. “Might as well tell me now. I’m in such a great mood about blow-drying my hair later that I can take it.”
He smiled back, and a different sort of shudder tried to take up residence in her body.
But after a second, he turned serious again.
“I didn’t expect to get so much interest so quickly, but . . . uh. I’ve got someone booked starting Tuesday.”
Tuesday. That was so soon. She swallowed, nodded. Did not make eye contact with either of those new bathroom rods.
“She’ll be staying for about four and a half weeks. I know the real short-term stuff isn’t the best thing. For everyone here, I mean. So I’m going to try to keep it to longer-term renters, as best I can.”
She blinked up at him, grateful for this concession. She hoped it wasn’t four and a half weeks of a total nightmare, but it had been good of him to consider everyone.
“The woman who’ll be staying, she and her daughter—the daughter’s about ten, I think—they need a place to stay while their condo gets some big repairs done. She’s been a homeowner for about fifteen years, so she’ll be responsible. She owns her own business, too. Consulting work, I’m pretty sure.”
Nora cocked her head, confused. She’d been on the rental site an awful lot since Will Sterling had shown up in her life, and she knew for a fact that owners didn’t have to bother getting a bunch of information about their tenants before finalizing an arrangement. That was pretty much the whole point for property owners, so far as she could tell: to collect their money, without much inconvenience or involvement.
Had Will . . . interviewed people?
“After her, I think it’s possible I can get people who are doing rotations over at Northwestern. It wouldn’t be the most convenient location, but as it turns out, Sally knows the placement coordinator there, and she said she’d direct people my way. And those people, they work so much it’s likely you won’t ever see them. They probably won’t even care if you do that projector thing using the balcony down there.”
She raised her eyebrows. “How did you—”
“Jonah told me about it. At poetry night.”
I believe everything you say about this place, she remembered him saying, that night in her bedroom, and back then, she didn’t know if she really, truly believed it. She believed Will when he said he was practical, responsible. She believed him when he said this building meant something different to him, something painful and permanently scarring.
But she hadn’t really believed that he was capable of seeing it her way, too. She hadn’t really known that he’d been watching and listening so well. It made her feel warm and soft all over.
“Thank you,” she said. “For doing that for us.”
He looked down, and she thought he might’ve shaken his head, but the movement was so slight, she couldn’t be sure.
“I did it for you,” he said, and her breath caught in her chest.
For long seconds, she couldn’t speak—couldn’t think of anything at all to say. She could only watch him, the memory of the first time she’d ever seen him coming back to her.