Page 51 of Absolutely Not in Love
Felix:Now I want to go just because I’m curious.
Felix:But honestly, you could invite me to try competitive duck herding and I’d still want to go if you were going to be there.
Gracie:Did you just make that up?
Instead of responding, Felix sends me a link to a video.
I watch it, one hand pressed against my mouth the entire time. It looks like it’s some sort of team-building exercise where people have to work together to usher a group of ducks from one enclosed pen to another enclosed pen on the other side of a field. It’s totally ridiculous and weird and I can’t stop laughing.
Gracie:Well. That’s three minutes of my life I can’t get back.
Felix sends a winking emoji, which makes my belly swoop and my heart beat a tiny bit faster.
Felix:I’m glad your dad is okay and that you’re home safe. Sleep well, Gracie.
Before I even think about what I’m doing, I respond with a single red heart.
Chapter Twelve
Felix
AfterpracticeonTuesday,cello music floats out of my apartment as I climb the stairs. It only takes a moment to discern that Gracie isn’t the one playing. The music is a little too stilted, the tone not quite deep enough to be Gracie, which means she must be teaching.
Before going inside, I let myself into her apartment and check on the progress of the repairs. It looks like the disaster response crew finished up today. Their fans are gone, and the place looks completely dry and mostly put back together, minus the damaged furniture, which they hauled away, and the exposed subfloor since the new floors haven’t gone in yet.
“Okay,” I say to myself as I look around the space. “It could have been worse.”
I pull out my phone and find the email my dad sent earlier with recommendations regarding how and with what the plumbing should be replaced. He also included the name of a plumber based in Asheville, a cousin of one of his contractors in Chicago who he recommends I use. I might have balked at the idea of pulling someone in from Asheville when there are perfectly good plumbers in Harvest Hollow, but I’m a little gun-shy after having made such a bad call the first time around, so using Dad’s recommendation is probably the safest route, no matter how much it pains me to admit it. Especially since Dad said he’d cut me a deal.
To his credit, after our initial conversation, our subsequent interactions have been a little easier. It’s like he almost seems excited about having something for us to talk about. Like he’s happy I actuallyneedhim.
It’s not him coming to a hockey game. But it’s something.
I pull out my phone and give the plumber a call. He answers on the first ring, and we quickly set something up for next Wednesday. I hate to wait so long, but I’d rather not have people in and out of the building while Gracie’s here alone, and that’s the first availability he has next week.
Hopefully Gracie doesn’t truly mind staying at my place. It’s encouraging that she’s teaching lessons in my living room. It at least makes me feel like she’s comfortable in my space.
With everything at Gracie’s squared away, I head next door, letting myself in quietly so I don’t disrupt her lesson.
Gracie looks up as I enter, and I nod my head in acknowledgment. She lifts her lips in a small smile without breaking the rhythm she’s clapping out on her knees, her student playing along.
“Much better,” Gracie says when the piece ends. “You nailed the rhythm through those final measures.”
Her student—a boy who looks like he’s maybe twelve or thirteen—breathes out a sigh as he lifts his bow off the strings. “Can we be done now, Miss Mitchell? My fingers are tired.”
“Absolutely,” Gracie says, her tone warm. “We’re out of time anyway.”
“Your fingers wouldn’t feel so sore if you practiced more,” a woman says from the couch in a tone that could only come from the kid’s mom. I hadn’t noticed her sitting there until now.
“More practicing will help,” Gracie says, her tone extra gentle like she’s trying to balance out the mother’s scolding tone. “But you’ve worked hard today. You’re totally fine to give your fingers a rest.”
I’m impressed with the way she managed to both agree with the mom but also validate the kid’s efforts. That takes a level of finesse I admire.
I pull the Italian sausage I plan to use for dinner out of the fridge, as well as an onion and a bell pepper, while Gracie’s student packs up his cello. His mom moves to the door, her gaze fixed on me the entire time. If her expression is any clue, she doesn’t trust me even a little bit.
I look at Gracie, lifting my shoulders as if to say,What did I do to her?
Gracie bites her lip. “Mrs. Henderson, you remember I mentioned I was staying with my neighbor while the plumbing in my apartment is being replaced. This is my neighbor, Felix.”
