Page 18 of Sparrow

“Take your time.” She opens the door and steps inside, but not before turning around to give me once last glance and a smile.

I’m so fucked.

***

I would be lying if I said I’m not taking my time on this job. I’m taking my sweet-ass time. I’ll admit; I’m even the creeper that’s sneaking a peek in her windows every time I walk by one, just so I can catch a glimpse of her.

I haven’t seen her in fourteen years. I have some making up to do.

The first time I peeked in, she was in her living room, fluffing the pillows on her couch, which appears to be the only piece of furniture she has in there.

The second time, I was rounding by the entryway and caught her sweeping the foyer. She caught me red-handed that time, but she didn’t give me shit for it. She just smiled with a shake of her head and kept on sweeping.

And now, I’m standing at the side entrance, taking measurements for a potential camera, watching her through the screen door.

She’s slicing open shipping containers with a box cutter and pulling out things wrapped in bubble wrap. She unwraps them with glee to reveal a ceramic baking dish. It’s bright, minty green with white flowers on it. She unwraps the next thing and it’s a smaller pie dish in the same color.

With this one, she literally squeals with happiness.

I can’t resist.

“Must be something good to illicit that sound,” I say through the screen door.

She looks up and replies, “As a matter of fact, Peeping Tom, this is an amazing baking line I can’t wait to use.”

I laugh at her name. “Peeping Tom? I was simply doing my job, ma’am. I happen to think you were parading around in my line of sight on purpose.”

She flushes a deep red color. “No. I wasn’t I –” she sighs. “Fine. I was, and I won’t apologize for it.”

I reach up, gripping the doorframe above my head. “I wouldn’t ask you to. It gave me a nice view while I worked.”

She places her hands on her hips. “Are you just going to stand on the other side of that door all day?”

“I was waiting for you to invite me in. Can’t go barging into a lady’s home uninvited. That’s how people get shot around here,” I say with a grin.

She rolls her eyes. “Come on in, Gray.”

I open the door, strolling in, taking a look around. “Damn. This place really is nice.”

“I know. I really feel comfortable here.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“I just can’t believe you actually own it now. It’s full circle. Like it was always meant to be this way.”

“I took the long way around in life to get here, but it’s all about this day forward for me now.”

There’s a sadness in her eyes. I’m instantly inclined to gather her up in my arms and make that look go away, but I can’t. In reality, we haven’t seen or spoken to each other in fourteen years. We are strangers.

But we aren’t. It’s immediately emotionally complicated in a way I can’t describe.

“How’s your dad, Mills? Still kicking ass and taking names?”

There’s that look again.

“Uh, well my dad passed away, actually. Cancer. Six years ago.” She shifts from foot to foot.

“Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t know or I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“How could you have known? It’s okay. Really. It’s hard, of course, but I’m okay.” She meets my eyes then changes the subject. “What about your parents?”

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