Page 91 of Lovingly Restored

Surely he received something as her son.

He presses his lips together. “Yeah, according to her lawyer Mummo handled all this a long time ago, but my dad kept trying to convince her to alter things. She left him some money, but my guess is that it won’t go far. Turns out the Government of Canada and him have a very different idea of how taxes and business expenses work.”

I cover my mouth but a burst of laughter escapes anyway. “Oh my god. I shouldn’t laugh–”

“Laugh away. I sure did.”

So, I do. I probably look unhinged standing here in this nearly unrecognizable space laughing. When the tears of sadness and the tears of joy are mixed and I don’t know which are which, I glance at the house. “This is everything you ever wanted.”

Isaac is the type of man who will fully appreciate this gift.

“No, it’s not.”

I frown. “But now you don’t have to worry about the workshop and you can do all the renovations…what more could you want?”

He reaches out, and we weave our fingers together. His warm skin against mine is a salve. Oxygen dives deeper into my lungs than it has in weeks.

“I’m obsessed with old houses; I wouldn’t work in the industry if I wasn’t. Mummo and Pappa’s house is so special, and, God, I was so bitter when I thought my father was going to ruin it. To demolish it.”

He rubs his rough thumb back and forth over my hand.

“The house is plenty nice, Ashlyn, I love it. But my attachment to this place doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the fireplace or the workshop or the hardwood. My grandparents’ relationship and the memories I built with them here is what always brought me back. Without that love, without someone to build new memories with... it’s simply another house on another street in another city.”

Tears are rolling down my cheeks, but I don’t care.

“Living here alone sucks so bad. It has all these memories of my grandparents, and they’re gone. And then I have memories of you and...well, you’re gone too–”

I can’t keep quiet any longer. “No, I’m not gone. I’m right here!”

He laughs. “I know, baby. I see you. Stay. Be my girlfriend and move back in with me. If that’s too fast or serious, then don’t move in, but use the space. I only need the workshop. The rest is useless without you.”

I don’t know what to say because he offered me everything.

“Don’t say anything if you aren’t sure. Even if you can’t forgive me, I still want you to use the space, we’ll figure something out. But you should know,” he pauses to step over the plank, so our hands are pressed between our bodies, “that I’ll be working right there,” he points to the workshop, “every single day, and I won’t stop trying to win you back.”

Mummo once told me Lauri men were nothing if not relentless.

“Can I garden in my bikini?”

His hips shift toward me, stopping short of the folds of my skirt.

“That depends.” His voice is husky.

“I mean...that won’t be a distraction for you while you work?”

I’ve tortured the poor man enough. I laugh, relief and joy and a million other emotions evaporating in the heat. His bare chest is hot beneath my hand, and the moment he registers my touch, he yanks me against him.

“Isaac! You’re all dirty!” I wiggle beneath his grasp, his sweat transferring to my dress.

“Sorry, not sorry. I’ve been toiling out here for weeks trying to redeem myself, remember?”

“I’m always going to be out here. I am never going to be indoors, not until winter.”

“Does that mean you’ll move back in?” He holds me at arm’s length, searching my face for an obvious answer.

“Yes. Under one condition. No, two conditions.”

“Anything.”

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