Page 129 of Road Trip with a Vampire
I snorted. That was a good one. I reached for his free hand, and he immediately took mine in his, interlacing our fingers.
Our hands looked good clasped together. We looked good together, full stop.
Ignoring my friends’ snickering, we walked together towards the field. I’d told them we could only stay long enough to see the event get underway. Peter, I’d explained, still had a lot of unpacking to do in his new apartment. Lindsay and Becky had been so thankful for everything he’d done for us that they hadn’t had any problems with this at all.
Of course, I hadn’t told them the whole truth. Peter didn’t know the full truth, either. Hopefully he would enjoy the surprise I had planned.
“Shall we?” I asked, squeezing his hand.
“I don’t actually have much to unpack,” he said. “We can stay here longer if you want.”
I shook my head. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”
I took a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves. It had taken more work to set everything in motion than I’d expected when I’d devised this plan. What if it wasn’t what he wanted? I gathered my courage and tugged gently on his hand. “Come with me.”
“Tell me where we’re going first,” he said, laughing a little. But when I started walking towards the parking lot, still holding his hand, he followed willingly.
“I’ll tell you when we get there,” I said. “It’s a surprise.”
“A surprise?” I was walking quickly now, full of anticipation, but with Peter’s long legs he kept pace with me easily. “In that case, lead the way.”
The loft I’d purchased twodays ago was more than a mile from Yoga Magic’s event. Between Peter’s long strides and my excitement, though, we reached it in less than twenty minutes.
“Here we are,” I said, breathless from the walk and my nerves.
Of all the places I’d toured—and I’d looked at just about every space that was for sale downtown these past two weeks—this one needed the most work. It was in an older building with peeling paint, and its design had probably been outdated twenty years ago. The loft itself, located in what would otherwise have beenthis building’s attic, would need more than a little elbow grease for it to live up to the potential I knew it had.
Somehow, though, the loft’s imperfections only made it more perfect for the person I’d bought it for. Peter would have the space in flawless shape in no time and would revel in every minute of the challenge.
Now, though, he simply looked up at the two-story building I’d taken him to. The sun was setting right behind it, and he had to hold his free hand up to the level of his eyes to see it clearly. “What am I looking at?”
Anticipation fluttered in the pit of my stomach. “Your new studio.”
“Mywhat?”
I laughed at the look of surprise on his face. Then I took his hand and pulled him towards the front door. “Come see.”
The Realtor had left the keys in the mailbox, and I fished inside it until my hand closed around what I was looking for. The stairs that led up to the loft were solidly built, at least. As we climbed upward, the visions I’d had of Peter working here, building a name for himself in his new, slightly modified line of work, played out for me every time I blinked my eyes closed.
When we reached the closed door at the top of the landing, I unlocked it with a shaking hand. Then flung it open.
“It’s a loft,” Peter breathed, his words echoing inside the empty open space. Dust motes hung in the air, illuminated by the weak sunlight streaming in through the tiny window on the far side of the room. As it had once been an attic, the ceilings sloped dramatically from the top of the building in a way that pleased me.
In a way that pleased Peter, too, if his awestruck expression was any guide.
“If you’re going to be here in Redwoodsville awhile,” I began, watching as Peter walked into the room and turned slowly in a circle, taking everything in, “I thought it might be nice to have your own workshop.”
He had told me of the places where he’d lived over the years, of the different cities he’d stayed in for a season or two before moving on to the next. Peter had always worked with his hands as much as his mind, but he’d never had the luxury of a permanent place to do this work. A kitchen table in a poorly furnished studio apartment in a city he’d never see again had been his default for decades.
Now, here, that could change. If he wanted it to.
I’d expected Peter to immediately start measuring the loft with his hands, talking through furniture layouts and where his new construction tools might hang. Instead, he simply looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read.
My nerves got the better of me. “I was thinking you could put a desk here,” I said, beginning to pace the room. I gestured to a spot on the opposite side of the room from where he stood. “There’s only that one window, and it’s way over there. So you won’t get any sunlight while you’re working. Hopefully that will make it more comfortable for you.”
I looked up at him, waiting for him to say something. Anything. When he didn’t, I continued babbling. “You can hang your tools up over here,” I said, pointing at the wall behind me. “At least, I assume you’ll want to hang your tools? I’ll admit I don’t know much about tools, since I’ve never owned any. But—”
