Page 160 of Beyond the Cottage

“Gretta?”

“Yes.”

The senator kept drumming then stopped. “I’m not easily surprised, but you’ve managed to astound me. I accept your terms.” He picked up a small pen and began jotting in a ledger.

“So, ah…is that it?”

“Yes.” When Ansel didn’t move, the senator looked up. “You’re dismissed.”

Ansel left the office in a daze. He’d just lost a fortune, but he felt lighter than he had in his life.

Wrapped in her favorite ratty cardigan, Gretta tracked circles around her coffee table. She looped through the kitchen, to her bedroom, then retraced her steps.

The path was clear. She’d been too nervous to sit when she got home, so she’d reshelved her books and hung her clothes. Now all she could do was pace.

She checked her pocket watch for the hundredth time. Wherever Ansel had gone, he was probably doing something rash. She had a pretty good idea what.

Were they really going through with this, then? Would she let him pour lamp oil on his future and light the match for him?

Nibbling the tip of her thumb, she started the loop over.

A knock came. She flew to the door and yanked it open to find Ansel on the other side. His eyes were harried, and his newly-cut hair looked like he’d been shoving his hands through it. When he caught his breath, he smiled.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I gave it back. Well, most of it.”

He didn’t need to tell her whatitwas.

“The repellent will still be manufactured,” he said. “You’re keeping your job. And this.” He handed her a thick envelope.

She held it at her side, hardly glancing at it. “Ansel, I don’t know if I can let you—”

He cut her off with a kiss. “It’s done.” He sobered, but traces of his smile remained. “I realize this is sudden, so I don’t want you to make any decisions today. But if you’re ever ready, come find me. I don’t care if it takes a month, a year, a decade. I’ll be waiting.”

“Hang on.”

He kissed her again and walked away.

“Ansel!” She stumbled barefoot from her apartment. He was already jogging down the creaky stairs.

Forcing her breath to slow, she went back inside. He wasn’t really leaving. She ought to take some time to absorb whatever the hell was happening.

Hugging the cardigan closer, she sat on the couch and ripped into the envelope. It contained two sheets of paper and a key. She pocketed the key and unfolded the papers.

One had ink scrollwork and calligraphy with an embossed seal at the bottom. It was the deed to a house—with an address in Verdant Gardens. The lighter paper was a bill of sale in her name, fully paid, and dated a week prior.

Gretta stared back and forth between them. “That littleshit.”

The house was ridiculously expensive. She knew the location, and it had no modest cottages or bungalows. And he’d bought it for her. To live in. With him?

Gretta carefully folded the documents and returned them to the envelope. Heart pounding harder than before, she looked around the shabby apartment that had protected her for years.

She’d wanted more than friendship from him. She’d even been open to a relationship of some kind. But living together?Marriage? He’d definitely said marriage.

Was she ready for any of this? Was he? They’d both been alone so long…maybe they were rushing things?

Hell, maybe it was a flat-out mistake. They were still two deeply fucked up individuals, after all. What if they were adisastertogether?

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