He filled the room, and he did it in the best way. He was tall and imposing but with a friendly sort of gentleness about him.
I knew him by reputation. He checked on the elderly tenants in the building; my next-door neighbor had mentioned it.
I didn’t know what to do with myself all of a sudden. I felt nervous, like I did on a first date I was really excited about.
I tucked my hair behind my ear. “So have you lived here long?” I asked.
He glanced at me. “Not long. You?”
“Since December.”
He started sliding the door back and forth. A nice biceps flexing.
“I never see you,” I said, admiring the view while he wasn’t paying attention.
“I’m on the other side of the complex.”
“And do you like living here?”
“I do. But the job’s hard as hail.”
I laughed at the inside joke, and he gave me a smile. It broke the weird tension.
“So how have you been?” he asked, crouching to look at the track. “The last time I saw you, you mentioned having a tough day?”
I put my hands in my back pockets. “Good. Great, actually. I’ve been making some changes I needed to make. Taking responsibility for my own unhappiness.”
He stilled. “I’ve been doing the same thing . . . I’ve never heard anybody use that saying before,” he said, looking at me strangely.
“Which one?”
“The responsibility unhappiness thing.”
“Oh. Yeah, I kind of live by it now.”
He was studying me. “So do I.”
There was a weird break in the conversation.
“Sooo the door . . . ,” I said.
He seemed to snap back into the room. “I think the track needs to be replaced. I want to do it tonight; I don’t want to leave you with a door that doesn’t close properly. I need to run to Home Depot.”
“I was going to Home Depot too.” Then I paused. “I’m not saying we should go together,” I said quickly. “I just wanted you to know that if you see me there, I’m not following you.”
“What project are you doing?”
I nodded at the kitchen. “I was going to paint.”
He looked toward the sink and stared. “Where’d you get that bobblehead?” He looked back at me.
“It was a gift.”
Silence.
“Are you a nurse?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m a hospice nurse.”
He paused. “Do you drive a white Honda?”
“Yes . . .”
Something moved across his face. “I gave you that.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“I also filled your tire with air and accidentally put a Valentine’s Day card on your windshield.”
I was speechless.
“That was you?” I breathed.
“That was me. John. Worst wingman guy . . . You’re H?”
“Holly,” I said, my heart pounding.
We held each other’s gaze. The same way we did that day in the courtyard. Only today I was in such a different place I didn’t need to look away.
I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was too good to be true. My guardian angel.
He licked his lips. “I don’t do this. I have really strict rules about hitting on tenants, and feel free to tell me to go to hell. But do you want to go out sometime? Just, you know, for coffee? Or dinner? I could take you to Home Depot. We both need to go; I could probably help you find whatever you’re looking for there.”
I had to laugh.
“Yes,” I said. “You can definitely take me out. And I think what I’m looking for is already here.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A big shout-out to everyone who worked on this collection on the Amazon team. Thank you, Maria Gomez, for inviting me to participate in this project. What a dream team you’ve assembled! I can’t believe I get to share credits with Sally Thorne, Jasmine Guillory, Sariah Wilson, Ashley Poston, and Christina Lauren.
Stacey Graham, two in one year!