Page 83 of Polly

Chapter 26

Polly

“Yeah, he sold it all,” Polly said into the phone as she stood at the counter of Flynn’s kitchen. “All my childhood mementos, my clothes, souvenirs, everything. Grady held a big auction and sold it all. Including my guitars and camera lenses. He probably made thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands with the guitars.”

“That rat bastard,” Paige growled.

“Everything I had in our house together is gone. I’m basically starting over.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s awful. We can probably sue him.”

Flynn walked up behind Polly, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed the back of her neck. She slid her hand over Flynn’s.

“I don’t think I want to. I want to be done with Grady and put that part of my life behind me. Plus, it wouldn’t get my stuff back.”

Paige sighed. “Understandable. Let me know if you change your mind. I’d love to sue that asshole. I’d handle it for you.”

Polly laughed. “Thanks, Paige.”

“You’re welcome. Talk soon.” Paige made a kissy noise and hung up.

Polly shoved her phone in her jeans pocket.

“Everything okay?” Flynn asked as he hugged her.

“Yeah, I was telling Paige about what Grady did. I still can’t believe it.”

“He’s a moron. His loss was my gain, though.” He kissed her cheek. “I need to thank him for ruining his chances with you.”

She blushed. “Thank you. I’m definitely happy with how things worked out.”

Flynn kissed a line down her neck.

She glanced out the window and watched as a construction worker walked out of the pool house.

“You’ve still never told me what’s going on out there,” she said.

“A few renovations,” he murmured. “They’ll be done soon.”

“What renovations?”

Once Lovely Oblivion had finished in the studio, Polly moved in with Flynn at his house in Oregon. Polly hadn’t had much to move, but Flynn had insisted on jointly picking some new furniture and he’d had a few of her photos enlarged and mounted in frames he’d hung around their house. He’d done everything he could to make her feel like it was her home, too.

He smirked. “You’ll see.”

Flynn’s house — their house — had a combined kitchen and living room. A kitchen island separated them. The ceiling was sky-high, the entire height of the house. An upstairs balcony overlooked the rooms from the side. A hallway entrance stood underneath the balcony, which led back to the music studio, bathroom, and stairway upstairs to the bedrooms. Awards and band photos hung on the walls of the studio. It also housed a piano and their guitar collection — as guitarists, the collection was becoming extensive.

Flynn took her hand and led her to the couch in the living room. They sat down and snuggled together on the couch. Flynn used the remote to turn on the TV. He flicked through the channels until he reached one that played the Boondock Saints.

“Okay with you?” he asked.

“That’s fine.”

They snuggled and watched the movie together in silence, until someone knocked at the front door.

“I’ll see who it is. Be right back,” Flynn said. He kissed her forehead and climbed from the couch. He headed to the front door.

Polly could hear low voices but couldn’t tell what they talked about. Flynn said, “Thank you,” and closed the door. He pressed his back to the door and looked at Polly with a smile. He gestured for her to come to him.

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