“Exactly.”
He nodded. “I have a teenage daughter, so I have some sympathy for wanting a walk-in closet. We’re running out of places to put all her clothes. When they aren’t on the floor, I mean. Unfortunately I live in a small Manhattan apartment and can’t invent space for a huge closet.” He sighed. “But, yes, wall here, no problem. This is a big bedroom, so they’ll still have plenty of space.”
As they walked back outside fifteen minutes later, Mike said, “I’m guessing if they stripped the house and then ran out of money, the budget for this project is small.”
“Yes. Restoration is offering up some money, and this couple is basically giving us their life savings to finish it. But, yeah. Money for drywall and paint, not so much for engineered beams to take out load-bearing walls.”
Mike gave them a ballpark figure for what he thought it would cost with midrange finishings. “Add a few thousand if you want to take out that one wall, and add a few more thousands if you want to do anything fancy with the finishings.”
“Oof,” said Grayson. Their budget was a good ten thousand short of what they’d need.
“Okay,” said Nolan. “I don’t think we’re getting any more money out of this couple, but I’ll talk to the powers that be at Restoration, then call in some favors and see what we can do.”
“Awesome. Just let me know what you want and I’ll get the crew started on Monday.” Mike looked at his watch. “Oh, geez. I have an appointment in the city. I gotta run. Here’s my number, though.” He handed Nolan a business card. “Call me anytime.”
He jogged to his car, leaving Nolan, Grayson, and the camera crew on the front lawn of the house. The camera guys started to pack up and head toward their van.
“Let’s go back to the city, shall we?” Grayson said.
Nolan took one last long look at the house and nodded before heading toward the car.
When they were on their way to the city, Nolan said, “Do you want to get dinner somewhere? I don’t feel up to cooking tonight.”
“Sure.”
“You want to come back to my place after?”
“Of course.”
Nolan nodded.
They had dinner at a Spanish restaurant on Twenty-Third, and though Nolan kept up his end of the conversation, he seemed very sad. As they walked back to his loft, Grayson asked about that.
“Sorry. I’m really trying not to be, but—”
“It’s okay to be sad. I’m not telling you not to be. But it’s also okay to talk to me if you need to.”
“You don’t want to hear about how much I miss my dead husband.”
“Maybe I do.”
Nolan sighed. “Our wedding anniversary is tomorrow, and I can’t stop thinking about it. This is the second anniversary I’ve spent without him, and I should be over this by now, but I can’t seem to move past this ache I feel. Is that what you want me to say?”
Grayson’s heart went out to Nolan, but his tone was combative. Grayson wanted to get him off the defensive. “Say whatever you need to say.”
“I don’t want to feel this way. I’m so tired of feeling this way. And every time I think I’m getting better, there’s some significant date or anniversary or I see some social media post about his old TV show, and I’m right back where I was a year ago, aching and inconsolable.”
Grayson reached over and took Nolan’s hand. This seemed to startle Nolan, who stopped walking and stared at Grayson.
“Is this not okay?” Grayson asked, squeezing Nolan’s hand.
“It’s okay,” said Nolan. “You just startled me, that’s all.”
“Do you want to talk about Ricky, or do you want to be distracted?”
Nolan resumed walking, so Grayson fell into step with him, and they continued to hold hands as they headed toward Nolan’s building.
“I want to be distracted,” said Nolan.
