Page 106 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

Flipping the desserts table at the wedding reception was not properly calculated. It was impulsive. It was reckless.

Reckless, but worth it.

For a moment, I’d sat in the backseat of the taxi, silent. I hadn’t known what to do.If it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.

Really, I only had one place to go.

Nancy’s house was warm when I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, in the way a house would be with no air conditioning. The garbage must’ve been full, because the second I stepped into the entryway, it was all I could smell. For a brief, horrifying moment, I had a delusional thought that Nancy’s body was still in her bedroom, left alone—but no. No. I had to swallow back the bile and continue further into the house. As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, the overflowing trash was in plain sight, as were the dishes that were left in the sink. Her weekly pill container was still on the counter, with Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday untouched.

It was like Nancy’s house had been put on pause, waiting for her to return. But she wouldn’t. Only the ghost of her traces would remain.

I was a different kind of ghost in this house—a squatter. I wasn’t legally allowed to be in here—that right belonged to whoever Nancy left the estate to in her will—but seeing as how the air was stinking and stale, whoeverhadbeen given the house hadn’t come by to check in on it. So, for now, I’d be its caregiver until its new owner returned.

“You should’ve at least made Yvette or Ms. Jennings clean when they were over,” I said to the empty air. “If you weren’t going to send them packing, you should’ve at least put them to work.”

The house answered with silence.

Despite the exhaustion that dug into my bones, for the first time in my life, I washed the dishes. I took out the garbage. The outside sky was dark, prolonging the world’s longest day even further, but I was lively as I went through the house and emptied every trash can Nancy owned. Once that task was complete, I went to work wiping down the surfaces, dusting the knickknack filled bookshelf, keeping busy in a space that, now with the trash gone, smelled too much like her.

I didn’t go into her bedroom. I left that door closed.

I hunted through the house for Nancy’s vacuum cleaner, which had been stashed in a random closet in the garage. The thing was ancient, and screeched like a wild animal, but sucked up the dirt that was scattered around her floors with a satisfying proficiency. In fact, watching the room go from disorderly and slumped to clean with pillows fluffed was satisfying.

I even scrubbed her bathroom floors, the tub, the toilet. When I couldn’t find anything else left to clean, I finally fell still. I’d discarded my suit jacket somewhere in my manic cleaning session; my suit trousers were wrinkled, my dress shirt smelling like bleach, my hands feeling grimy despite all the disinfectants I’d been using. Sweatclung to my temples and frizzed the hair near it, and when I looked in the mirror, I found my makeup smudged and barely hanging on.

Outside, the birds chirped as they woke up.

I fell onto Nancy’s couch and slept like the dead.

I woke up to the sound of a car door slamming shut.

For the longest moment, I held still, uncertain why I would’ve heard it on the eighth floor of the hotel. When I shifted, I remembered that I wasn’t on my memory foam mattress at the hotel but cramped on a sofa where the ancient springs practically dug into my back. I grimaced as I shifted, every muscle in my body aching, especially my arms. It felt like I’d pulled a muscle.

Probably from flipping the table yesterday.

It all came back in a flash. The funeral, the wedding, Sumner, the cupcakes. I stared at the ceiling, half wondering if it’d all been a dream.

Nancy’s front door began shaking as someone tried opening it, and I could hear the jingle of keys. I shot to my feet and toward the door, uncertain who I’d find on the other side, but hauling the door open.

And then I sighed.

“I figured you’d be here,” Ms. Jennings said as she pulled her key out of the lock. She looked bright and chipper, makeup perfectly done. “The only place you could go, really, isn’t it? A good choice. Between you and me, I doubt your parents even knew where Nancy lived, so you’ll be safe enough here for a while.”

I stared at her, wondering if it was the fact that I was still half-asleep or her actually being friendlier than normal. “What are you doing here?”

She seemed to guess my train of thought, because Ms. Jennings smirked. “You were a rockstar last night, you know. Turning over that table. Oh, it was delightful to see. Did you catch a good glimpse of Yvette’s face?Priceless.”

I was in no mood to entertain her. “You’re not taking a thing from this house,” I warned her. “You’re not coming inside.”

Ms. Jennings t held her hands up, rolling her eyes. “You act as if the deed is in your name. But don’t worry, darling, wouldn’t dream of it.”

My patience was thinning. “Then why are you here?”

Ms. Jennings pointed her thumb over her shoulder, drawing my attention to her shiny red car as it sat parked beside mine. I didn’t know how I hadn’t noticed earlier, but someone sat in the passenger’s seat, their face partly obscured by the visor as it hung down to shield the sun. I hated how my insides jumped, heart skipping a beat at the potential of who she could’ve carted out here.Please, the word rang in my head as the door popped open.Please.

Standing from the car, gaze shielded with black shades, lips turned up in a pleased smirk, stood Aaron Astor.

My pulse returned to normal almost immediately. “He’s dedicated,” I muttered under my breath. “I’ll give him that.”

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