Page 6 of When Love Changes Everything

***

As I turn the corner onto Main Street, I silently ask myself what on earth I think I’m doing. Even though I know the answer—and all the reasons I shouldn’t be here—I pull up and park across the street from Lisa’s condo anyway. A large truck sits parked out front, bearing the logoWaters Mitigation & Restoration.

They're here to clear everything out. My heart sinks as I take in the scene: her furniture, all those familiar pieces, now scattered across the lawn, waiting to be loaded onto the truck.

I make my way toward the house and spot Aaron Baldwin standing outside, speaking with a young man holding a tablet and a small camera, carefully taking inventory of Lisa's belongings. As I approach, Aaron catches my eye and nods.

"Hey, Mateo," he greets.

"Hi, Aaron," I reply, glancing toward the house. "Is Lisa inside?"

"Yeah," he says, shifting his weight as he glances over his shoulder. "She’s packing up anything that wasn’t damaged by the flood. I brought the truck so we can store everything for her."

I nod, a sense of urgency propelling me forward. "How can I help?"

Aaron gestures to the young man beside him. "This is Terry," he says. "We’re cataloging all the furniture and whatever’s salvageable. Lisa’s a minimalist, but there’s still more here than I expected."

Before I can respond, Aaron’s phone rings, and he steps away, murmuring an apology. Left alone with Terry, I take a deep breath, ready to tackle whatever needs doing.

"Are you okay?" I hear Aaron say, his voice thick with worry. "Where are you? Yes, okay, but… No, absolutely not. I’ll be right there. Hang on, Babe. I'm on my way!"

I glance over, catching the tense set of his jaw, the lines of concern etched deep into his face.

"Loren’s water just broke," he says, barely able to contain his anxiety. "Mateo, I have to go. Can you take it from here?"

"Yes, of course. Go!" I urge him.

He looks down at his keys, grimacing. "But the truck..."

Without hesitation, I dig into my pocket and toss him the keys to Lily's car. "Take the car. I’ll handle everything here."

He nods, his eyes flashing with relief. "Thank you," he says, his voice brimming with gratitude. "I’ve got to go."

He bolts toward the car and tears off down the street, wheels squealing as he disappears into the distance.

***

For nearly two hours, I work alongside Terry and his crew, cataloging each piece of furniture as they carefully move it out of the house, working methodically from room to room. Each item is logged and photographed, but I can’t ignore the fact that I haven’t seen Lisa yet. By the time the last piece is loaded onto the truck, we’re all worn out and covered in dust. Terry pulls down the truck’s door with a heavy clang, securing it with a solid padlock and giving it a final tug to make sure it’s locked tight.

He hands me the paperwork, and after a quick glance, I sign it, confirming that every item removed from the house is accounted for and securely loaded onto the truck. I hand the forms back to him and shake his hand firmly before watching the truck pull away, its taillights fading down the street.

As I step inside the house, the musty, damp odor greets me, softened only by the lingering notes of lavender and vanilla from a half-melted candle on the kitchen counter. The living room stands empty, stripped of all its comforts, but the photos on the walls remain, quiet reminders of the life Lisa has built here. I pause, my gaze drifting over the photos—Lisa laughing with her mom, standing arm-in-arm with her best friends, Lily and theLinder sisters, sharing a goofy smile with Lily from their college days, holding Aaron’s kids on her lap. Each image is a piece of her, a testament to the people she loves.

From down the hallway, I hear her voice, tinged with expectation. “Aaron? I’m in my room!”

I step into the bedroom, where she’s crouched on the floor, carefully packing clothes into a cardboard box. The wood beneath her, though dry, has started to buckle—planks lifting and warping from the water’s grip, a sad reminder of the damage the flood left behind. She glances up, her eyes red and glistening, a tear slipping down her cheek before she quickly brushes it away, her expression shifting when she realizes it’s me, not Aaron.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice raw. Then, with a flicker of that familiar spark, she adds, “And where have you been? You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” I reply, managing a grin as I glance down at my once-clean knit shirt and tan chinos, now smudged, wrinkled, and sweaty.

"Where’s Aaron?” she asks, pushing herself up from the floor. She brushes the dust from the back of her jeans and gives her T-shirt a quick tug to smooth it back into place.

“Don’t worry,” I say with a smile. “You still look beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes. “Did Aaron bail on me?”

“No,” I reply, “Loren’s in labor—her water broke about two hours ago.”

---