Page 17 of His Build
“What do you mean?”
“She kept calling me by your name. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wasn’t you.”
Lucy sighed. “Poor Mrs. Devonshire.” Her elderly neighbor was sweet, but extremely scatterbrained. Except for a few shared facial features and idiosyncrasies, she and Lucy didn’t look much alike.
“On the plus side, I also met Blinky!” Sadie said.
Lucy laughed. Blinky was Mrs. Devonshire’s middle aged Maine Coon. The cat was half blind, and a bit mangled from his other life outside at night that Mrs. Devonshire was entirely oblivious to. She was always coming to Lucy complaining about how Blinky had gotten the scratches and patches of hair pulled out. Lucy didn’t have the heart to tell her neighbor her ‘always indoor’ sweetheart darted out the door and down the building’s hallway fire escape whenever Mrs. Devonshire went in and out of her apartment. Mrs. Devonshire—whose eyesight was about as good as Blinky’s, never seemed to notice. Though he wasn’t winning any beauty contests, Blinky was clever, Lucy would give him that.
“It’ssonice not having to deal with my roommate situation, either.” Sadie was saying. “I mean, she’s a nice girl, but not having to put up with someone else’s mess; their hair in the tub, them eating the last of your takeout—it’s amazing.”
“See? That’s what I mean about living your best life. On your own,” Lucy said. “You make your own rules and answer only to yourself. If you find dishes in the sink, you know who left them there.”
Sadie laughed. “It does have its benefits. But Lucy,” she said, her voice hesitant over the line. “Don’t you get lonely ever? It’s so quiet here on my own.”
Lucy frowned, mulling the question over seriously for the first time in a long time. Her friends knew better than to ask her that each time she informed them she’d called it off with another guy who’d been getting too close. It wasn’t something her sister would normally ask her either. But she could picture Sadie there, lying in Lucy's bed at the condo, the sounds of the city on the street below echoing through the window.
While Lucy had lived with roommates when she first got to New York at eighteen, the minute she was able to scrape enough cash together to afford her own place she’d done it. It was a miniature shoebox, and she’d had to work two jobs and eat ramen every night while she was in design school to afford the rent, but it was worth it. She’d moved to a nicer place when she got a proper job, and a few years after shifting careers to life coaching, she was finally able to lock in a permanent private life with her new condo. Even though money was tight again with the mortgage payments—a little too tight—it was still worth it not to have anyone to answer to.
Sure there was the odd time when she thought about what it would be like to have someone to share her life with. Someone she could come home to and crow about the amazing breakthrough her client made. Who she could share a nice meal with, and late at night when she lay awake, curl up against when things were tough.
But she neverneededany of that. It wasn’t what made her world go round. Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was to have to change any part of the life she’d constructed for herself. Because that’s what being with someone meant—sacrifice. Throwing your own life under the bus to make theirs work. That’s what her mother had done and look at where it had gotten her. Stan was long gone, her eldest daughter didn’t talk to her, and the string of men she’d dated for the last twenty years had left her lonelier than ever before.
“Why would I be lonely? I have you!”
Sadie sighed. “That’s true. But I might actually want to end up with someone. Unlike you, Ms. Too Good for Relationships. Cliff might just propose, you know.”
Lucy cringed at that. Then she scoffed when she realized what Sadie had called her. “Too good for relationships!?” she exclaimed.
“You heard me,” Sadie said.
“Too smart, maybe.”
Sadie made an exasperated sound and Lucy grinned, picturing her face.
Lucy made Sadie promise she’d remind Mrs. Devonshire who she was, and that she’d let Blinky into her room if he got locked out.
After they hung up, Lucy went for another swim, then spent the evening and the better part of the next day planning out the design of the lake house, getting lost in online mood boards and aesthetics.
No, Lucy wasn’t lonely. She loved her life. The thing that was missing wasn’t a man, for god’s sake. It was this—the self-care. Swimming in a cool spring lake. Reading a good book on the balcony after dinner. Crying over a silly romcom on the motel tv before tucking in and trying her very best not to think of a big scruffy small town man with a kind smile and slate gray eyes.
7
By the time Monday morning rolled around, Lucy was in a better mood than she had been in months. She even made herself go for an early morning dip—freezing as usual, but oh so refreshing—and had a real breakfast. Never mind that it was packaged oatmeal—she was proud of herself for following through on her self-care goals. She was even excited about going over to Alfred’s property today. Last night she’d used the pictures she took onsite to begin planning for some of the furniture and artwork purchases, and she wanted to go back there today to get some more daytime shots. The only thing infringing at the corners of her good mood was an irritating fluttery feeling in her stomach at the thought that Graydon might be onsite today too.
But as Lucy turned off onto the dirt road leading to the job site and entered the gorgeous sun-dappled woods, her good mood ebbed as something caught her eye around the first unmarked turnoff. Her stomach did a little nosedive as she saw what it was: a strip of pink plastic, the type used to mark off hiking trails or the ends of oversized lumber loads. It was tied around the branch of a tree right before the turn. As she rounded the corner, she spotted another one on the other side of the road, to mark the way back.
Her stomach twisted. And not in a good way.
There was another tie at the next turn, and at the next.
Graydon had marked the way for her.
It was ostensibly a sweet gesture. Maybe she should have seen it as such. But she didn’t. Her cheeks bloomed hot with embarrassment. He thought she couldn’t find her way without the markers. He thought she couldn’t take care of herself because he’d had to step in to save her.
And she’d thanked him.
Lucy had a flash of being stuck on the side of the road with her mother as a tween. Their car had gotten a flat and her mother was practically in palpitations about how Stan wasn’t there to help them.
