I checked for the essentials—toilet paper, soap, towels, boxed water—and found they were in ample supply. I checked and rechecked all the lights and was delighted to see they were all in working order. The flashlights, however, needed new batteries, and I hoped I had a box in the house. I had already gone shopping and didn’t want to have to do another trip. The next few days would be eventful and I needed my rest.
I thought back to the one and only time I’d slept down here. It was my husband’s idea. The kids were little and he thought it would be fun to have a date （literally!） right under their noses. So we hired an overnight babysitter, put on our coats like we were off to someplace nice, then drove to the end of the block, parked, walked back, and crept into the shed. We thought we were so tricky when we rolled back that rubber mat and slipped through the trapdoor. I won’t tell you what we did down there, only that it sated my penchant for mischief, which was ever present back then.
Satisfied that my refuge was ready for my upcoming stay, I turned off the lights and headed back up the stairs. Silvia would be over soon, and once she came, I would be rendered useless for the rest of the afternoon. Her visits were tedious, but such was my life now—I was through complaining about it. Complaining was tiresome. Revenge was much more my style.
CHAPTER 48
* * *
ASHLEY
I was giving Brando a bath in the kitchen sink after our run when the phone rang. The caller ID said “Unknown Caller,” and I almost didn’t answer it. I wasn’t in the mood to be reminded I didn’t own a home （yet!） by someone offering me a great interest rate to refinance it. Plus Brando was covered with soap and itching to shake-spray it all over the room. But I had just had an audition, and if this was the good news I was waiting for, I didn’t want to miss it. So I wiped off my sudsy hands and picked up my phone.
“Hello?”
“Ashley?” a voice I couldn’t quite place said. “This is Nathan, from last night.” Wait—WUT? I was so used to feeling unworthy of attention of any kind, I assumed he was calling for some mundane reason: to tell me I’d left my hat in Louisa’s parlor （had I worn a hat?） or invite me to join the neighborhood watch. But I still got nervous-excited, because that’s what I do.
“Nathan, hi!” I said, turning off the water with my elbow and giving Brando a stern look to stay still. He was dripping wet and undoubtedly on the verge of doing that thing wet dogs do to make everyone else wet, too.
“Hi,” my hot crush said. There was a beat of silence, so of course I ran off my mouth to fill it.
“I just got back from your aunt’s!” OK, not just. I’d been back for two hours. But I didn’t think he would care that I went for a run, and I didn’t want to conjure an image of me covered with dirt and sweat.
“She’s trying to help me get a job,” I explained. “I probably won’t get it, but it’s nice of her to offer.” He didn’t need to know any of that. Why can’t I stop talking?
“Oh! Well, break a leg!”
“I probably shouldn’t talk about it,” I blathered on. “It’s bad luck to talk about auditions. We actors are very superstitious.” Great. Now he thinks I’m a crazy actress who won’t walk under ladders and holds my breath over train tracks. Which I am. But he doesn’t need to know that.
“Listen,” he said, （mercifully） taking control of the conversation. “I don’t want to cut in on my aunt’s turf here, but I, um . . .” You um . . . what? My heart was pounding in my ears. Brando quivered, and I squeezed his middle with a firm hand to make sure he didn’t take that moment to douse me like a furry sprinkler. “Well, I really enjoyed meeting you and I was wondering if maybe you might want to meet for a drink sometime, or even tonight?”
“I’m free tonight!” I blurted. Good God, could I be any less hard to get?
“I have to take some golf buddies to happy hour,” Nathan said, and I got scared he was about to change his mind.
“I can be ready in twenty minutes!” I lied. I had dirt rings around my ankles and was elbow-deep in dog hair. In what world could I be ready in twenty minutes? Thank goodness he didn’t call my bluff.
It’s funny how when one part of your life clicks into place, the other parts often follow. I’d heard it called many things: “manifesting,” “the secret,” “the law of attraction.” I had always been intrigued by the idea that you get what you believe you deserve—that positive thoughts bring positive outcomes. My attitude had definitely shifted since that audition and Louisa’s encouragement （“Consider it done.”）。 Yet, despite my newfound optimism, I still couldn’t believe the man I was attracted to might actually be attracted to me, too, even as he was asking me out on a date.