Page 25 of Designing Love (Bluewater Cove #2)

MISREAD BLUEPRINTS

Ethan

T he Miller House is laughing at me.

Or at least, that’s how it feels as I stand at the center of the living room, gripping Sophia’s carefully written notes like they’re some sort of foreign code.

She’s mapped everything out in elegant handwriting.

And yet, here I am, squinting at it, turning the paper sideways like that might magically decode its meaning.

Claire lounges against the wall, tapping her sneakers impatiently against the dusty hardwood. “You realize it works better if you actually read it upright.”

I glance down, grimace, and slowly rotate the page around. “Funny. I thought I’d try architectural interpretation through abstract expressionism.”

Claire’s eyebrow arches sharply. “That’s just a fancy way of saying you’re clueless, right?”

I sigh heavily, dropping the paper onto the table. “Pretty much.”

Claire steps closer, looking at the notes and sketches with exaggerated focus. She points at a particular scribble. “What does ‘MC-KH-living?’ even mean?”

“McKitchen?” I guess lamely.

She snorts, her laughter echoing mockingly around the bare walls. “Someone help us. Ethan Reed, handyman extraordinaire, brought down by Sophia’s mysterious shorthand.”

I cross my arms defensively. “I’m doing my best.”

“Your best involves staring at these same notes for the past week without making any progress,” Claire retorts dryly, eyes narrowing. “Face it — you’re lost without her. Maybe you should try that fancy gadget called a phone.”

“It’s only 8am in Vancouver.”

“Then text. Like any rational adult in this century would.”

I hesitate, rubbing the back of my neck. “What if I wake her up?”

Claire groans theatrically, rolling her eyes skyward as if asking for divine patience. “Good grief, Ethan. Either text her or hand over your phone and I’ll do it — and trust me, it won’t be subtle.”

She holds out her hand impatiently, waggling her fingers. I huff and pull out my phone, glaring half-heartedly. “Fine.”

Fingers hesitating, I finally type out a careful message.

Me: Hey. Let me know when we can talk about your notes for the Miller House? I’m not exactly sure how to proceed.

Claire scoffs, leaning over to read. “Very romantic. Maybe add a nice ‘sincerely’ at the end?”

Before I can reconsider, my phone chirps immediately.

Sophia: Is now good for you?

My heart practically stops. I stare dumbly at the screen, speechless.

Claire pokes my shoulder impatiently. “Well?”

I slowly turn the phone around. Claire reads, grins wickedly, and smacks my shoulder. “Tell her yes, you idiot!”

I quickly type back.

Me: Yeah, now’s perfect.

“See?” Claire says smugly. “Not so complicated.”

Before I can reply, there’s a confident knock at the front door, and Sophia walks in, radiant as ever, holding a beautifully wrapped envelope tied neatly with a pale blue ribbon. Her smile is warm but tentative. “Hi, strangers! Didn’t know we were having a party!”

I stare at her, mouth dry. “Sophia. You’re... here?”

She tilts her head, amusement flickering. “I just got in from Pearson, made good time. I wanted to surprise you. Surprise!”

Claire coughs conspicuously behind us. “Well, I see my work here is done. I’ll leave you two to your Hallmark moment.”

She exits, leaving us alone. Sophia steps inside, pushing the envelope toward me. “I brought you something.”

My eyebrows arch.

“Just read,” she urges softly, unfolding a crisp page and laying it on the table. She points firmly to a brightly highlighted line.

My eyes scan quickly:

Herein, Daniel Butler formally withdraws his appeal regarding the Miller House property and irrevocably agrees to cease and desist from any further interference, claims, or actions pertaining thereto.

I frown deeply, confusion settling uneasily in my chest. “What — what exactly does this mean?”

Her smile brightens confidently. “It means I fixed it. Daniel’s appeal is officially gone now. And the business is dissolved. We can finally get back on track with the remodeling.”

“That’s fantastic for your business. We also got the go-ahead for the house yesterday when we met the mayor.”

Sophia’s smile widens. “That’s excellent news.”

She steps closer. Her hand brushes mine cautiously, sending sparks racing up my arm. “Ethan, listen. I — I’m free.”

My breath catches sharply. “Free?”

She nods softly, eyes shimmering with emotion. “It’s done. No strings, no drama. Just me.”

I can’t move, my entire body frozen. Sophia inches closer, hesitant yet determined.

Heart pounding, I lift my hand slowly, cupping her cheek tenderly. Her skin is warm beneath my palm, her breath hitching slightly.

“You really do love dramatic reveals,” I say softly, voice unsteady.

Her lips twitch playfully. “Maybe I learned from an impulsive guy who buys rundown houses on a whim.”

And then, slowly, softly, I kiss her. My lips brush against hers, gentle at first, careful — almost hesitant — as if asking permission. She responds instinctively, tilting her head to meet mine, deepening our connection. My hand rests lightly on her hips.

The kiss grows, lingering with the promise of more to come, yet still sweetly restrained. My thumb gently brushes her cheek as our lips part slowly, reluctantly.

We remain standing close, our foreheads touching, breath mingling softly, caught in the comforting, electrifying silence. It feels like we’ve just crossed a beautiful boundary, neither of us eager to break the spell.

“So,” she murmurs, glancing up at me shyly. “Am I forgiven for not getting in touch yesterday? I passed through security just in time and had to run to the gate to make my flight.”

I chuckle softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I suppose. But next time, let’s avoid radio silence? My nerves were a mess.”

“Deal,” she agrees, nestling closer.

Together, we look around the cluttered, dusty space. The morning sun streams through the windows, casting a hopeful glow across everything — the cracked plaster walls, the scattered notes, the dusty blueprints still laughing at my cluelessness.

“Sophia,” I say quietly, brushing my thumb against her cheek. “Are you sure you’re ready for all this mess?”

She smiles softly. “More than ready. As long as it’s our mess.”

Warmth blooms in my chest, a deep-seated contentment I haven’t felt in years. I hold her tighter, the chaos around us fading into insignificance.

Because standing here now, amid the ruins and dreams, the plans and blueprints, Sophia in my arms — I realize there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

Some messes are definitely worth it.