Page 112 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
I put my phone down, suddenly nauseous with nerves. What if he’s not happy to see me? What if we’re totally not on the same page and he’s just confused? Before I can duck my head under the water, my phone lights up.
Happy to. How’s 6P.M.tomorrow? Busy day. If that’s too late for them, I can do noon or 3 the following day.
For some reason, this response fills me with affection. He’s so professional. So prompt. So thoughtful.
I reply:Tomorrow at 6 is perfect. Thanks!
It’s slightly killing me not to thank him effusively for all the work he did on the house in secret. But I don’t want to let him know I’m here, not yet. I slip back under the water and swim until my anxious brain has quieted down, until my limbs feel like jelly, and then I take a long hot shower in my very own bathroom before falling instantly asleep on my very own couch. (I’m ordering a new mattress for the bed frame—one thing I didn’t feel like buying secondhand.)
The next day, I meet Gramps for lunch and then swim in the Gulf. I savor the sensation of feeling like I’ve actually used my muscles over the past few days. Amazing how I never felt this way backhome in my old solitary routine, and yet I’ve felt this way frequently during my time here. I may not be a backpacking type, but I see a future full of swimming, kayaking, and biking in the hot sun. In the afternoon, I visit an antiques mall in St. Pete for more furniture and odds and ends.
A few minutes before six, I do a final walkthrough of the house. The bedroom still looks unfinished with no mattress, but the living room and kitchen are warm and inviting.
I really didn’t want to have Daniel over with no furniture in the house yet again.
I slip outside to wait on the front stoop. Daniel will recognize Gramps’s car in the carport, so I might as well be out here to see his reaction. Like the professional property manager he is, he shows up at two minutes to six, tooling slowly up the driveway on his red bike.
“Mallory?” he shouts, his face slack with disbelief. “What—?”
I give a little wave, unable to contain a smile.
He hops off his bike, still rolling, and then stops a few feet away from me, clutching the handlebars suspiciously.
“What are you doing here? What about the tenants I’m supposed to meet?”
I stand and dust off the back of my denim shorts. I kind of like the way this feels, standing in front of my own front door, having a man look at me like… that.
“It’s me. I’m the tenant.”
He still looks suspicious, so I explain. “I went back home to Seattle, but it didn’t feel right. I quit my job and sold all my stuff and… Here we are.”
“Okay…”
My heart plunges. This is it; this is what I was afraid would happen. I try to surprise him and I make a fool of myself, because he actually didn’t want this, and he’s not happy I’m here.
I take a deep breath. “Daniel. Before we talk about anything else, I have to ask. Did you finish the floors and walls yourself?”
He grins guiltily. The lopsided smile and the flush coloring his freckled cheeks make it nearly impossible for me not to run over to him immediately.
“I did,” he admits.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to get the place rented.” He says it stoutly, defending himself, but he can’t quite hide the laugh in his eyes.
“I would have paid Alan for that, though.” I step through the open front door and point at the gilded mirror inside. “And what about this?”
He takes a few steps closer. “That—well, you left it at my place. It doesn’t exactly match my decor.”
“I see.” I appraise him, still not entirely sure if we feel the same way. Not sure how he’ll feel about the fact that I may or may not have moved across the country for him. I mean, it was obviously for Gramps, but…
“Want to see what I’ve done with the place?” I say.
He climbs the steps with his helmet under one arm. “How long have you been in town?”
“Just two days.”
“Two days, huh?” He gives me a once-over as he passes over the threshold, as if he’s wondering why I waited two days to see him. But I’m probably imagining it.
