Page 10 of Fixing Up My Love Life

Then she clears her throat and passes me the brush.

I take it, trying not to think too hard about how steady she is and how off-balance I feel.

When I stand, she’s waiting. Still composed. Still Hazel.

“So you need a contractor?” I ask.

She nods. “I’d like to hear if you have availability. I brought a list.”

She hands me the clipboard,her fingers brushing mine. A small, familiar gesture that pulls more emotion than I expect.

“I can email it to you too,” she adds. “If that’s easier.”

“He’s got cards up front near the register,” Dad chimes in. “Still keeps them in the same place.”

There’s a pause. A softness in the air. Her expression shifts slightly, and she looks at my dad the way someone looks at a person who once made them feel safe.

“Thanks, Mr. Sanders.”

“Call me Tom. You know that.”

Hazel’s smile reaches her eyes this time. It’s brief, but it’s real.

Dad clears his throat, stepping behind the counter but still keeping half his focus on us. He’s pretending to be busy, but he’s eavesdropping in plain sight.

She turns her attention to me. “I need everything done by August twentieth. My brother’s wedding is that weekend.”

“Lucas or Jace?”

“Lucas.”

I nod. “Good for him.”

The reaction on her face is hard to read. Not joy, but not exactly frustration either. Just something deeper, more complicated. I let the moment pass.

“Are you planning to live there?” I ask.

She blinks. “What?”

“At the Hensley House, after the wedding. Or is this just for the event?”

Hazel looks down at her clipboard. “Honestly, I don’t know. My lease is up in September. I might move in. Might just keep it as a wedding venue. Depends how things go.”

She sounds uncertain, like she hasn’t let herself think that far ahead. Like she’s trying to stay in motion so the feelings don’t catch up.

The Hensley House isn’t a small project. That place is old. It has character, sure, but it likely has layers of problems that don’t show up on first glance. It’ll take work.

Still, she’s serious about this. I can see it.

“I’ll go over the list tonight,” I say. “I can call you tomorrow to set up an estimate.”

She nods, professional again. “That would be great.”

She starts to turn away.

“Hazel,” my dad says.

She pauses.

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