Page 124 of Return To You

The Mill is a stone building alongside the river, three levels high if you count the basement level. It’s hosted artists co-ops, pop-up events, a yoga studio for a while. My theory was that none of these businesses survived there because the vibe wasn’t right for anything wellness centered. Add to that there is little light. But maybe it’s time I set my woo woo theories aside and be realistic about my future. Yeah, just like for my personal relationship. Be realistic, Grace.

Me

You’re right.

Ten minutes later, Alex texts me back.

Alex

We’re on for this afternoon.

“Anybody free to join?” I ask my staff while we’re sharing a quick lunch on the now-repaired deck, enjoying a rare moment when almost all of us are free at the same time. Only Hope is giving someone a facial.

“I’ll come, if I must,” Fabrizio sighs.

Shanice has been aimlessly running her fork in her quinoa salad since I started talking about moving. “Me too.”

“Anybody else?”

“I’ll hold down the fort,” Claudia says.

“I don’t want to manifest moving,” Cheyenne declares. “I’ll stay right here with Hope. She feels the same.”

That evening, Ethan calls me. “I’m sorry about last night, baby. It went on for hours. I didn’t want to wake you.”

I’m sprawled on the one lounge chair, drinking club soda. Damian is at my feet, squinting at the great outdoors, dying to explore it but too chicken to do anything about it. “You should’ve. You know you can call me anytime, day or night.” I don’t want to tell him how much I missed hearing his voice, but he needs to know there’s nothing I want more than to hear him.

“How was your day?” he asks me.

I tell him about the visit to the Mill. “Worst case, I’ll take it.” The Mill is like I remembered it, except that empty, it looked even more uninviting.

“Is it that bad?”

“No, but it’s just not… not anything like what I‘m offering now.”

“What’s it like?”

“A large empty space, very high ceilings, cool stone walls, dark cement floors. It screams tech company, not luxurious, pampering spa.”

“Gotcha,” he grunts. “Nothing else on the market?’

“A couple houses that are too small. But I’ll find something. Don’t worry about me.”

“I want to worry about you, Grace. In fact, it’s the only kind of worry I’m interested in, these days. Get used to it,” he grumbles in his low voice.

I want to touch him, see him, smell him. I switch the call to video. His face appears, grayish and vaguely distorted. “Hey, babe.”

“Wanted to share the sunset with you,” I say, pretending, switching away from the selfie view, taking in his features as he looks at his screen.

“I wish I was there. How’s my boy Damian?”

Damian pricks his ears at his name, and I angle the phone so Ethan can see him. “You taking care of my woman, cat?” he says, and why does him talking macho like that make me all mushy coming from him but all prickly when it’s Dad or Colton, or even Kyle? I wiggle in my chair, becoming bothered, in a good way, at all this sexiness.

I switch back to selfie view, we talk about nothing for a little bit, and then Ethan stifles a yawn. “You get some rest, sweetie,” I say, not allowing him to protest. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I switch the phone off after he tells me again how sexy I am and how much he misses me, then I stay on the lounge chair for a while, staring mindlessly at Woodbury Knoll.

When it’s past midnight I open an envelope.

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