Page 4 of House of Desire

Looking at the plans he has in front of me, I double check the numbers for the tile order before signing off and sliding the papers back toward my friend and right-hand man.

When I came home from House of Deceit and sold my business and almost everything I owned, all he asked was where we were going. Could I have built another business without him? Yes. But I didn’t want to. The fact he was willing to uproot his entire life at the whim of a friend was more than I’ve ever expected since Brittany walked out the door.

“Do you think I should date?” I ask him.

He straightens the papers, making sure they go back in the appropriate folder in his stack. We have thirteen custom houses in the works and management of all the different details is a full-time job, plus some. I make a mental note to hire Mitchel an assistant, someone he can train up and make into his protégé the same way I did with him.

“I don’t think it’d hurt you to get laid,” he says with a smirk, causing me to roll my eyes.

“I’m not asking about sex, dude.”

He straightens his tie, the result of him having a meeting with some clients later today.

“Listen,” he starts, leaning back in his chair, “far be it for me to talk about anyone’s healing process, but just because you left everything behind doesn’t mean you turned in to a brand-new person.”

“Thanks, Yoda."

“It’s been over a decade since she left. You haven’t heard from her. You had to divorce her in absentia. I know you thought she was your soul mate. I can’t even think about how hard it was after she left. But eventually you have to move on.” Sometimes, it sucks having a friend that’s known you since high school.

I lay my head back on my chair, looking at the ceiling. “That’s what Sharon said, too.”

“Sounds like I need to up my hourly rate, then.”

“I don’t think that’s what I said,” I joke. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I see it’s a text from Charlie asking me to stop by the house on my way home. “Do you need me for the last meeting of the day?” I ask, knowing I’m not going to be any help to him with my head so distracted.

“No, go. I’ve got this. But you owe me.”

“Put it on my tab,” I say, texting Charlie I’ll be there in about an hour, then grabbing my keys from my desk drawer.

“Your tab is getting long,” he says, shuffling all the folders into his arms, breaking off to his office as we make our way down the hall.

I make my way out to my car, the last conversation I had with Alec playing through my mind. He offered to put my name forward for the dating show that’s owned by the same network as House of Deceit. Although he never worked on the show himself, he knows plenty of people on the production team.

Every year, I vehemently reject the offer.

But maybe Sharon is right.

Maybe I should go on some dates.

I roll my windows down and throw my hair into a knot to avoid it blowing in my face before reversing out of my spot. I make my way in the snarling, snaking traffic toward the hillside where Alec and Charlie had me build their sprawling mid-century modern house. Looking out at the ocean, I sing along to the radio.

The land was a perfect choice, and owned by Alec’s family from when they had first moved to the region back in the 1800s. They could have sold it for an astronomical price, but it was passed down from generation to generation. Upon the death of his mother, it was held in trust for both him and Lorelei. Married to a professional football player who makes millions a year, she gave her brother her share of the land with the express purpose of building the house he wanted to make into a home for Charlie.

“Knock, knock!” I call out, letting myself into the richly painted foyer with the key they gave me.

They have only been living here for a few weeks. Boxes are still scattered in a few places, but they’ve made fantastic progress.

“Back here,” Charlie calls, from what I believe to be the vicinity of the library she uses as her office.

She stretches to put a book away, her shirt riding up to show a small sliver of skin above the yoga pants she is fond of wearing when she writes, claiming no good ideas can come if she’s wearing uncomfortable clothes. Considering the success of her book, I decide to believe her.

Her red hair is streaked with blonde from being out on her pool deck every day. She turns and gives me a smile that draws one from me, no matter my mood. The sister I never had, we bonded in a way only people who went through an experience no one else could understand would be able to.

“Hey, thanks for stopping by,” she says, padding over to me in her bare feet. I wrap her in a bear hug as she lays a quick kiss on my cheek.

There was a time I was attracted to this woman, but in the same way someone is attracted to a painting or a symphony. The beauty of the art draws you in and drowns you as it pulls emotion from the well of your being, but you know it’s not something you can ever own. Only experience. That was Charlie for me.

The experience of feeling my heart beat again.

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