She appears to be awaiting my snappy comeback, but I don’t deliver. I just don’t do sarcasm, not with anyone, and especially not with her.
Instead, I press my hand over hers and look into her eyes warmly. “No. I can’t take this. I got carried away. I just…” I take a deep breath. “I really enjoyed trying to help you out. I’m sorry if that turned into a giant overstep of your boundaries. So I’m just going to go and you won’t have to deal with me ever again, even if you decide to continue with Maid for You. OK?”
Stella’s jaw drops at my response, and she says nothing as I head out the door.
Chapter Six
Stella
I peel off my suit and toss my shoes in the corner where the reed basket used to be. Slipping out of my bra and panties, I start myself a bath and reach for the jasmine bath salts, but the jumble of bath products, lotions, and potions that typically line the ledge of my tub are gone. With a huff, I march to the closet and open it to find all the bath products organized into baskets by scent. All my towels are neatly folded and sorted by size on another shelf.
Did my mother come by to help? Because this is not only perfect but exactly how she would do things.
And then I remember. And then I’m sad again. Mom’s gone. Dad too. This is their house, but they’re not here anymore.
Moments later, I’m emotionally numb as I sink into a jasmine-scented bath, thinking about my parents.
As my tired muscles relax, my numbness is replaced by loneliness.
My irritated feelings about Luke moving and rearranging my things is replaced by resignation. Doesn’t matter. He can do what he wants. He may as well burn the place down for all I care. I’m too overwhelmed to do what needs to be done to make this place feel like a real home. I can’t handle it. Because as much as I love all the memories of this house, both of them experienced too much pain at the end of their lives. While Mom was sick, every time I picked up an old magazine to recycle, Dad intervened. He couldn’t part with anything, because everyone had been bought by her. After she was gone, I watched him slowly die of a broken heart and I couldn’t bear the thought of taking any part of her away from him.
They were both in so much pain. One from tumors, and one from the ensuing broken heart.
I close my eyes and try to picture the good times. It’s hard. Mom was the glue that held us all together. After she passed, Dad fell apart and turned the house into his own little hermit hole.
After Mom got sick, I sold my house in Silicon Valley and moved to Los Angeles so I could move in and help. I didn’t care about having my own space; I just wanted to take care of them. My company is my company, so I didn’t have to negotiate with anyone about my decision to permanently set up an office at my LA branch.
After unwinding in the tub, I feel relaxed, if sad, and decide to forgive Luke for crossing the line. It’s true; this house does need help. I need help.
I ought to give him a positive review online. A five-star write-up is the least I can do.
I towel off and pad naked into my bedroom to look for my ratty but comfortable bathrobe that I keep slung over the vanity chair. I end up tromping all over my bedroom, my walk-in closet, and back into the bathroom before I realize the robe is hanging on the back of the bathroom door as, I suppose, would make sense. Pulling it on, I can tell it’s been freshly washed even though it wasn’t dirty before.
Too much, Luke. But thoughtful.
As I pull the robe on over my naked, still-damp body, I can’t control the tiny thrill as it rubs against my skin.
He washed this, dried this, then removed it from the dryer with those big man hands and hung it tenderly and thoughtfully on the back of your bathroom door.
It’s nice to think of this robe as an extension of him, giving me a big bear hug. I could use a big hug. If he knew the whole story, he might insist on a hug, and I might completely give in to it.
How long has it been since a man touched me?
Everything before mom died is kind of a blur. I don’t even want to try to put a number on the exact number of years or months.
Before I can stop it, the next thought that occurs to me is this: wouldn’t you rather he use those hands to take that robe off your body?
Not so fast, lady, I say to myself. Have you seen him? He’s probably a major flirt. Probably got a gigabyte’s worth of phone numbers from less complicated and more emotionally available women.
Muscle memory makes me go to the place where I keep my clean pajamas—in the white laundry basket by the foot of the bed. I sigh when I see they’re not there now.
I’d better give him the review before I go looking for my pajamas, not to mention all the items involved with my nighttime skin care routine, which used to be scattered all over my bathroom countertop but are now lined up neatly in a clear cosmetics display on my vanity.
Perched in my vanity chair, I pick up my phone, find the bookmark in my browser for the Maid for You website, and type out my review.
“Luke was a total professional and cleaned my house from top to bottom. He went above and beyond. No corner of my house was left untouched. Please hire Luke; you won’t regret it!”
Send.
Curious, I slide open my vanity drawer and see it’s been completely sorted. Mascaras and eyeliner over here, primers and foundation over there.
Wow. He’s good.
The smile that creeps across my face cannot be denied. Literally, it can’t because I’m looking at myself in the mirror on my vanity. I haven’t seen myself smile like that in a while.
What the hell am I smiling about?
How can I possibly be mad when it takes me three seconds to find everything I need, when on a normal night I’m hunting high and low for all my skin care products? I should thank him for saving me minutes of my time.
My face in the mirror relaxes while I’m applying my age defying potions. I can’t help but grin at the thought that Luke will make some partner very happy one day. It’s clear from my reflection that I’m not thrilled with the idea of that partner not being me.
What a ridiculous thought. You’re just lonely.
You need to call your best friend Laney and sort out your feelings.
“Siri, call…”
I stop mid-sentence and remind myself how late it is, and how early she has to get up. She doesn’t have time for my late-night neuroses.
I let my mind wander while I do my face thing, and gradually, my body and my mind are making other demands.
Eventually I give in. I abandon what I’m doing, drop my bathrobe off my shoulders onto the floor, and crawl into bed, slipping in between my cozy high thread count sheets.
My naked body sliding against the sheets, I rub my legs together, the friction of my thighs conjuring up the thought of what it would be like to hold Luke’s massive hard body between them.
What would that be like? Would he be fast or slow? Would he slide into me missionary-style or set me on his dick as I straddled him upright? Or does he prefer doggy-style? Would he pull my hair? Would I want him to?
I fought these thoughts all day at work. It wasn’t enough he had to catch me with that gorgeous smile before I’d even had my coffee, but he had to have those kind eyes. That dorky way of holding a pencil behind his ear. That easy way of leaning against my kitchen counter like he damn well belonged there.