Page 17 of There's No Us Without You
Fifteen minutes later,Will makes a left turn into a new estate. Large fig trees line the streets, their branches reaching out to one another until they’re almost touching.
It’s kind of beautiful the way they’re so close, yet so far apart. If they just reached out a little further...
Everything is so green, each manicured lawn like something out of aBetter Homes and Gardensmagazine.
Then we’re pulling into a driveway next to a black Jeep. I sit forward in my seat to look out the windshield at the white two-storey house showcasing four massive windows on the top storey.
“You live here?” I say, frowning.
It should reassure me that Will lives in a nice area. It gives me confidence I’m not walking into a murder house and never coming back out unless it’s in a body bag.
Although Ted Bundy was great at being charming too.
“Why? Not up to your standards?” Will says, scoffing. “Didn’t take you for the snobby type.”
“That’s not”—the door to the driver’s side slams shut, making me jump—“what I meant.” The last of my sentence comes out with a sigh, spoken only to myself.
What am I doing? It’s obvious Will doesn’t want me here, and I’m more of a burden to him than anything else. So why did he invite me to stay?
It makes no sense. I should apologise for wasting his time and just leave. That would be the smart thing to do.
When I glance back at the house, Will is waiting for me at the front door, his hands shoved into his pockets. He’s so damn distracting, the sunlight catching on his tattoos. He’s a literal work of art, and my heart is beating so fast, I’m on the verge of a panic attack.
Instead of running away, I climb out of the car on shaky legs—leaving my suitcase in the back—and meet him at the door.
“After you.” Will holds an arm out for me to enter the house.
I offer him a small smile, only hesitating for a second before stepping onto the white-tiled floor. The inside is so bright, with high ceilings and a large chandelier hanging down between the open-plan kitchen and lounge room.
I do a double-take at the kitchen.
No way.
I take a step forward. Then another. And one more until I’m standing in front of theFalconfreestanding oven with gas cooktop.
I’ve only ever dreamed about owning something like this—they cost anywhere from eight thousand dollars upwards—and when I picture my ideal kitchen, this is close to perfect.
“This is—wow,” I say, cupping my cheeks before running my fingertips over the cooktop. “Do you use this?”
I glance over my shoulder to find Will leaning against the doorframe, watching me.
“Sometimes.” He lifts a shoulder. “It was here when we bought the place.”
“We?” I say, my voice rising. “Like you and your... girlfriend?”
With a tilt of his head, Will blinks a few times, then pushes off the doorframe. “I don’t do relationships, Eden,” he says, motioning towards the back of the house. “But would you like a tour before I murder you?”
There’s no hint of a smile or humour in his tone, and I take a step backwards, eyes wide, my lower back slamming into the white granite bench.
“Jesus. I’m kidding,” he says with a shake of his head, a strand of hair falling over his forehead.
I huff out a laugh as though my heart didn’t just end up in my throat and wave a hand dismissively. “I knew that.”
Will raises an eyebrow and shoves his hair back. “Sure you did.” With a sigh, he steps in front of me and motions to the right. “Anyway... this is the lounge room.” Then to the left. “Kitchen.”
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
I follow on his heels until we hit a hallway. A staircase to the right leads up to the second floor, while to the left there are doors lining the wall.
