Page 3 of Faking Romance

“Really?”

“For me, not you,” she assures me.

“Just the mysterious grumpy man in the window, but we haven’t met yet,” I explain. “I’ve seen him peeking out of his curtains at least three other times. But my visits tend to be short and I haven’t had any other interactions with him.”

“A mystery, love it,” she says.

“Yeah, just met a nice woman and her daughter who asked if I had any dead bodies in the car,” I add.

Isla coughs as she starts laughing. “Shit, warn me before you say stuff like that. I just inhaled my soda.”

“There’s also the mystery of those flowers…” I trail off as I walk out the store’s door and down the street toward the park.

“What flowers?” she asks.

“The ones on the park bench,” I remind her. I’ve seen them there a few other times since that first day. They always have the same note attached.

“You brought those home for Mom,” she says in confusion.

“I did, but there are more here again,” I reply as I walk over and read the card on the flowers. Same as before.

“Interesting,” she says.

I head back to my car. “That’s one way of putting it,” I say as I open my car door to grab a bag.

“This place sounds…interesting,” she says again.

“You already said that,” I groan.

“Yep. OK, I gotta run. See you tomorrow,” she says as she disconnects.

I look back up at the building. One-eleven Hearts Lane, you really do have some mysteries. I just hope building a business here isn’t going to be one of them.

CHAPTERTWO

Grayson

I swipe my bow over the strings of the cello and feel my body relax as the notes fill the air. I’ve been working on this piece for hours, wanting each instrument to sound perfect. I’m nearly there when a loud banging comes from beneath me, jarring me from my musical world into the stark reality of the real one I live in.

I was weary of the woman who rented the commercial space below me. I had to yell at Troy a few times when he was making noise down there, but he tries to get things done when I’m not working since he knows my schedule. Al has tried at least a half dozen times to reassure me that she’s the perfect tenant to take on the space formerly occupied by his late wife’s antique shop.

I long for the antique shop. I’ve only been here a little over two years, but that first year was perfect. Edith was quiet and kind. Aside from that damn bell on the door ringing on the rare occasion that someone came in, she made nearly zero noise. And then she died.

That was brutal…for everyone in the building. Edith was like family and losing her left a gaping hole in all our hearts. Her old age and life well-lived were the only things that kept us sane during those first few months.

I didn’t think I could become so connected to a building and the people residing in it. In the world I come from, relationships are transactions. And transactions come at a high cost.

With a shake of my head to clear my thoughts, I start again but an immediate bang has me setting down my beloved instrument and heading straight out the door and downstairs.

I walk outside and press the door of the shop to enter it, but it doesn’t budge. I lean forward and peer inside and see two women nailing something to a wall.

I pound on the glass, but no response.

What in the actual fuck?

I pound again and one of them looks over at me. She looks a little younger than me with long blonde wavy hair that’s pulled up in a ponytail on top of her head. Her giant blue eyes stare back at mine and widen a little before she steps off a ladder and walks toward me, pulling out an earbud as she does.

She unlocks the door and pushes it open.

---