Page 40 of One Weekend in Los Angeles

My thoughts drifted to the keys to his house that Deacon had left me. I hadn’t intended to use them, but I found myself missing the connection we’d shared and wanting an excuse to be close to him, even if the only way of doing so was by staying in his house for a few days until I could make other dog-friendly accommodations.

I wondered, not for the first time, how he was doing. Aside from texting me his gate and house codes on the first day, he hadn’t communicated with me. Then again, it wasn’t like I’d reached out either. Maybe staying in his house would give me an excuse to start the conversation. After all, we were friends, and friends reached out.

Turning to the agent, I asked, “How long do you think it’ll take to get an offer?”

She smiled confidently. “In this hot market, I expect to have multiple offers within a week.”

“All right.” Might as well get used to living elsewhere since the place wouldn’t be mine much longer.

Selling this house was like closing a chapter of a book I no longer wanted to read. The question, of course, was which book I would pick up next. Perhaps I’d take a vacation. Find my own oasis to recharge and plan my future. The thought of getting out of LA and spending time off-grid held a lot of appeal.

I was quiet and deep in thought the next morning with Ollie in the passenger seat and my beloved dog in the back seat of my new Honda. I’d traded in my luxury car for something much more practical a few days ago and couldn’t be happier with it. Meanwhile, Ollie had been nice enough to accompany me over to Deacon’s house today and help with my suitcases. He’d even brought some travel books for inspiration.

“I texted Deacon about staying here, but he didn’t answer.” It felt strange to just show up without letting him know, but in reality I hoped this act would provide an excuse for us to start talking again.

Ollie smiled. “I’m sure he’s deep in his writing cave and just hasn’t had time to respond yet. He’ll be happy to hear you’re using his house.”

I hoped he was right.

I pulled in front of Deacon’s gate and typed in the code wishing he would’ve responded to my text so I didn’t feel like I was imposing.

Once I parked at the top of the driveway, I got out of the car on shaky legs, a host of memories flooding back.

Ollie got out with Callie on her leash. “I’ll walk her around and grab some stuff if you want to go in and turn off the alarm.”

“Sure.” Once again I had second thoughts about being here, but reasoned Deacon wouldn’t have given me keys if he hadn’t meant for me to stay here.

What I wasn’t prepared for was how emotional it would be stepping through this door as if I was reliving our weekend together by being in his space. Dammit. It even smelled like him.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. But as I was about to type in the security code, I realized the alarm wasn’t set.

The sound of acoustic guitar chords suddenly started. Soft and steady, I followed the notes into the living room, finding none other than Deacon sitting on his couch strumming his guitar.

He stopped and looked up at me with a sexy smile. “Hi, Andi.”

“You’re here.” And he hadn’t told me he was in town.

He stood up, putting his guitar to the side, looking sexy and calm. “I am.”

“I didn’t know. I’d only meant to use the house a few days, but I’ll go.”

“Andi, no, I knew you’d be here I came here for you.”

“You did?”

“Yes. I was going to tell you, but then you texted you were coming to the house, so I thought to surprise you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and I noticed the bags under his eyes for the first time.

“Are you all right?”

“Not really? Do you know why?”

I shook my head slowly while he framed my face with his hands. Hands I’d missed touching my skin.

“Not even an hour into the flight I wished I’d invited you with me.”

My eyes went wide. “But you made it clear you didn’t want me there.”