Page 34 of The Love Destroyers

Mr.FixIt: Crystal.

She must really want that wall knocked down, because the offer comes through thirty seconds later.

I click through and whistle through my teeth, because what are the fucking odds?

The offer is for a job at Smith House, just outside Marshall.

Unless there are people secretly living inside of the walls, only two people reside at Smith House—Mrs. Rosings and Emma, and Emma’s been on a kick about renovating the house.

I run my finger over my lips. The wise thing would be to warn her it’s me. There’s a decent chance she’d change her mind. We both agreed it’s a bad idea for us to mess around, something we both want to do. Impulse control isn’t easy for me, so the smart thing to do would be to avoid her. Although that’s obviously notpossible all the time, this is a situation where it is. Still, I find myself hitting the button that says, “Honey is on the Way!”

Because yes, Iwouldlike to sledge a wall for Emma.

Hell, I’d like to do it with her eyes on me, glued to the shirt I will most definitely be wearing, because I’ve been maced before, and it’s not the kind of experience any sane person would repeat.

CHAPTER NINE

EMMA

“Emma, dear, it’s not as if your father is going to come back and lay claim to his office,” my mother says, her hand on her hip, her eyes skyward, as if she just can’t with me. We’re standing outside my father’s office, the room which I’ve just summoned a stranger to improve. “We can continue leaving it alone for another twenty years, and it’s not liable to hurt anyone.” Her other hand is still wrapped around her cell phone. She was poring over it when I found her in the parlor and informed her that I had news about my ongoing project with the house.

Could she have been checking out SilverFoxes.com again after our man hunt the other day?

Yes, I surfed SilverFoxes.com with my mother.

My mother, my brother, and I don’t say I love you in conventional ways. We push each other, we poke fun, we drink together when someone’s had a bad day or a disappointment.

So I’d thanked her for her efforts on my behalf by checking out the website with her after the housewarming party a little over a week ago.

We’d made the joint decision that she should block Cueball for being dishonest and calling a grown woman “kitten,” and we had joyfully blocked several other would-be contenders—one forresembling my father’s work colleague, who habitually picked his nose in front of everyone, another for wearing the same red shirt in every photo on his profile, although the photos were notably taken on different days, and a third for messaging herLet me wife you.

But she hasn’t talked about the app since our dinner at Chuck’s apartment last Thursday. There’d been this moment when I could have sworn she and Chuck were vibing each other—and the look Seamus had given me suggested he’d noticed too. It had been nice, sharing that moment with him.

Could she have been texting with Chuck?

I want to ask. Chuck is a good man—kind and gentle, the way Mark was, but much more chatty. I like him. I trust him. I feel much more comfortable with the thought of my mother dating him than any of the overly horny and possibly untrustworthy men on that website. But I figured it might be too early to press her about it.

And then there’s the matter of this room…

I passed the office this morning and heard that strange scratching noiseagain. Which is when I decided the ghost in the walls needs to get evicted. Today.

Do I think it’s an actual ghost?

Probably not, but I’d prefer not to take chances. It’s unsettling, and I want it to stop.

I glance inside the space. Everything about it speaks of him—from the dark green walls that create a brooding, uncomfortable atmosphere, to the dusty whiskey decanter sitting on top of the globe-shaped bar and the wide walnut-wood desk with two diminutive chairs sitting in front. So whoever sat there would feel small in comparison to him.

Even looking at it makes me shudder. “I had a revelation this morning, Mom,” I say. “It’s this room that’s made the wholehouse feel rotten. It’s the dark heart. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before.”

Which is why I’ve decided I’m going to knock down the wall between the library and the office and make it into one giant library. With lots of pink romance books and thriller novels. Let’s see if the haunting or whatever the fuck it is continuesthen.

Have I lost my mind?

Probably.

I’d argue I lost it a few months ago, but maybe you can lose your mind multiple times, or continually, on an ongoing basis.

My mother sniffs and straightens her perfectly straight kaftan dress. “And what, pray tell, are you going to do with the detritus after this stranger you’ve hired knocks down the wall?”

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