Page 18 of Inevitable

Sumner coughed. “Um. Excuse me, Mr. I-want-you-to-move-home-with-us?”

I laughed, relaxing a little as we settled back into a sense of normalcy. I’d always admired their relationship. And as she’d gotten older, I loved the fact that she called Ian on his shit. She respected him, adored him, but they could tease each other. It made me wonder what my relationship with my parents would’ve been like.

When I caught Sumner glancing around, it struck me that she’d never visited my house. I’d purchased it a few years ago as an investment, as a testament to my success, but I’d never felt at home here. It was only when Ian and Lea came over and we cooked together and hung out that it felt like more than just the place I rested my head at night.

“Come on.” I hooked my arm over Sumner’s shoulder before thinking better of it and rubbing the back of my neck instead. “I’ll show you around.”

I led her down the hall toward the office and guest room, stealing glances at her all the while. I wondered what she was thinking—about the house. About me.

“It’s nice,” she finally said after I’d given her a tour. We stood on the upstairs landing, music streaming through the built-in speakers. Ian and Lea were likely busy in the kitchen.Or getting busy, I thought but quickly pushed it away.

Those two. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. I found it both amusing and, at times, surprising. I enjoyed sex, craved the release. But my relationships—if you could call them that—never lasted. Either they wanted more than I was willing to give, or I simply lost interest. I couldn’t imagine ever being that crazy for someone, that insatiable, especially not after ten years.

“Nice?” I asked, sensing Sumner had more to say on the matter.

“Well…” She glanced around before returning her attention to me. “It doesn’t really fit you or your personality.”

“How so?” I leaned closer, intrigued.

“It seems so cold.”

I couldn’t help it; my brow arched in surprise. Most people thought I was cold. “What kind of house would you picture me in?”

“Something with more character. Something with history.” I found myself nodding with her description. “You used to love poring over old woodworking catalogues. Yet you chose this. Why?”

I felt a sharp pang in my chest but quickly pushed it away. “You remember that?”

“Of course. I still have the jewelry box you made me for my twelfth birthday.”

“You do?” I laughed, my insides warming at her admission. “I’m not sure I’d want to see that. My skills have improved a lot since then.”

She smiled. “Which merely proves my point. And begs the question—what are you doing with this house? It’s impressive, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not you.”

For the first time in years, I felt seen. I blinked a few times, unprepared for the surge of emotion that accompanied that revelation.

I lifted a shoulder. “It was a good investment.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

I leaned against the wall, crossing my legs at the ankle. “Only if you’ll answer one of mine.”

Something seemed to pass through her eyes, and she asked, “Do you do anything for yourself?”

“Sure.”

“You hesitated.” Her lips curled into a smile, and for a minute, it was easy to imagine that it was just the two of us. That we were alone, and she was here because of me.

“What about you?” I asked, turning the question back on her. She was a hard worker—her grades were evidence of that. But it was more than that. I saw how disciplined she was at the office. How diligent and determined. I’d never been so attracted to someone for their brain, their work ethic.

“All you seem to do is work,” she said, ignoring my question.

“You’re one to talk.”

“Yeah, but I’m still in school. I’m trying to establish myself and my business. You’re at a point in your career where you can afford to do what you want.”

“Business?” I tilted my head to the side. “What business?”

“It’s nothing.” She blinked several times in quick succession.