Page 28 of Love Like Lightning

“Does it bother you that my stuff is like this?” Her eyes narrow slightly, but she’s still smiling, and I get the sense that she can see the answer to her question plainly on my face.

“I asked you first.”

“Sometimes I do. I’ll probably get around to it since I’ll be here for a bit.” She smirks. “Answer mine now.”

Heaving a sigh, I swipe my hand through my hair to give myself something to do that’s not touching her stuff. “It’s not how I would do things, but it’s not really my business how you live, Gia.”

It’s the truth. If I go out of town or stay in a hotel, I usually unpack right away, so I know where everything is. Then I store my luggage in a closet or something. And as much as I’d like to see this room organized, it’s her room. She can live how she wants.

God, even the thought makes me cringe.

“Henry.” She approaches me slowly, still smiling. Once she reaches me, she places a hand on my arm. “Would it make you feel better if I picked up?”

Her offer is laughable, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t say yes. “Honestly? Yeah. It’s a little chaotic in here.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re the youngest of what? Five? How are you not used to chaos?” She seems to notice that her hand is still on my arm, and she pulls it away, shaking it out like I burned her.

“Ah, the chaos was what gave me the neurosis. The moment I had my own place, I kept things neat and tidy. Not that growing up with the chaos was bad, and my parents did the best they could, but it’s not for me.” I shrug and curse myself for missing the warmth of Gia’s hand pressed against me. “I like the order.”

“What’s the plan for when you have kids?” The question clearly came out before she gave it much thought. Her mouth drops open, and she sputters, all the while shaking her head. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business. I shouldn’t assume you want kids at all. Don’t answer that.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not sure. My siblings will probably get to that point long before I do, so I haven’t really thought about how I’ll wrangle kids and maintain some semblance of order while doing it.”

“That makes sense. I’ve already got a fair number of little nieces and nephews, so I’m comfortable in the chaos.”

“I thought you were an only child?”

“Lots of cousins. They more than make up for not having siblings.” She hums happily. “I come from a very large, very Italian family. We all grew up in or around Boston, and everyone’s pretty much stuck around. We’re really close.”

“Wow, that sounds really nice.” My thoughts stray for a moment, to my brother Grant who moved away, to my oldest brother Art who went off traveling. Part of me thinks that having everyone back in Ever Lake for good would be nice, too. Not that I’ll hold my breath, especially when it comes to Grant.

“So, do you want to help me put my stuff away?”

“I don’t want to intrude or overstep. Or overstay my welcome.” That’s a lie. I’d overstay my welcome any day when it comes to her, but that’s not the right thing to do.

“I’d love the help, honestly. And if it makes you more comfortable here, then I’m more than happy to clean up my stuff.” She rolls the large suitcase over to the long bench next to the desk and places it on top. “Also, just for your peace of mind, I don’t always live like this. I pick up my space when the mood strikes.” She sends me a saucy smile over her shoulder.

“When does the mood usually strike?” Folding my arms across my chest, I watch as she starts pulling clothes out and piling them next to the suitcase.

“Not as often as you’d like, I’m sure,” she answers and immediately dissolves into laughter. This whole situation is so bizarre and nice and comfortable that I can’t help but join in.

It takes a solid half hour, but we manage to unpack and put away all of Gia’s things in an orderly fashion. At least as orderly as I can manage. I finish up ironing a pair of slacks for her while she watches me from the bed.

“Hey, when’s your birthday?” I ask casually, wondering if she’ll be in town to celebrate. “I remember you mentioning it was coming up, but that was back in October.”

“It was in December, actually.”

“Oh, nice, well, happy belated birthday.”

“Thank you. You know, you really didn’t have to iron and steam my things,” she tells me again.

She’s lying on her stomach on the bed, chin propped up in the palms of her hands and feet swinging behind her head. She looks amused but content all the same.

“I don’t mind.” Sliding the iron over the pants one last time, I make sure there are no obvious creases before hanging them up in her closet. Then I return to the ironing board and unplug the iron, leaving it to cool. I’ll put the ironing board away later.

“What else do you do?”

“Hmm?” I turn toward her, taking a few steps to the bed before stopping to look for a place to sit.

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