Page 37 of Oops I Fell For The Electrician Next Door

“Then I’ll come back quickly.”

She rises onto her toes and kisses me. The kiss contains no answer I can hold her to, but it contains enough to get me to Denver and back.

“Drive safely,” she whispers.

“I will.”

“And text when you arrive.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I climb into the truck and start the engine. Kelsey remains beside Cabin Seven as I pull away. In the mirror, she grows smaller beneath the pines, one hand lifted against the sunlight.

Grandma Ruth was right. Kelsey watches everything leave.

The drive to Denver takes me along roads I have traveled enough times to stop seeing. Today I notice every mile carrying me away from the lake. I notice the open country, the traffic thickening near the city, and the mountains remaining visible behind me whenever the road bends.

My apartment looks exactly as I left it. The blinds are closed. Two unopened boxes sit against the living-room wall, still marked KITCHEN in black ink from a move three years ago. I have slept here between assignments, paid rent here, and used this address on every form requiring proof that I live somewhere. I have never invited anyone to dinner.

I open the blinds and begin packing.

Clothes require one box. Books fill another. Most of what I own is equipment, work gear, and furniture selected because it could be delivered quickly. By the time Kelsey texts to ask whether I arrived safely, half the apartment is ready to load.

Made it. The place is even less impressive than I remembered

Does it have a bigger shower?

Yes

Then try not to become attached

I laugh alone in the empty room. The sound changes it more than opening the blinds did.

I call the property manager, confirm the early-termination fee, and arrange for a moving crew to collect the furniture I plan to donate. None of the tasks are difficult. I postponed them because this apartment allowed me to pretend I maintained a home without asking what I wanted one to feel like.

Before I return to packing, I take one of the coffee mugs from the cabinet and wrap it in my only dish towel. It is plain, heavy, and dark blue. Kelsey will probably tell me it does not match anything in her kitchen. I am taking it anyway. I intend to make certain she sees me return.

Chapter Fifteen

Kelsey

Marc texts when he reaches Denver. He texts again when he discovers that his apartment contains six coffee mugs, two forks, and no box large enough for his work boots. On Monday morning, he sends me a photograph of the moving boxes stacked beside his door. Proof, the message beneath it reads. I stare at the photograph for a long time.

Marc loves me.

He said it before driving away, and I have carried the words through every cabin since. I carried them while stripping Fletcher beds, balancing Nolan’s invoice, and paying the plumber for replacing the failed supply line in Cabin Three. I carried them into my empty bedroom Sunday night, where the space beside me felt larger than it had before Marc slept there.

Nolan’s bill is fair. More than fair, despite my warning not to give me a charity rate. He charged for his permit responsibility, materials, and every hour he spent at Eight Pines, then reduced the labor because Marc and I had handled much of the physical work beside him. I pay it before he can reconsider the amount.

At noon, Millie arrives with a paper bag containing two sandwiches, one slice of pie, and enough curiosity to qualify as a public nuisance. She claims the food is left over from a catering order. I know better, but I let her place it on my desk because she is right about my habit of forgetting lunch.

“Where is the electrician?” she asks.

“Denver.”

Her expression becomes cautious. “For good?”

“For his belongings. He rented Cabin Seven by the month and says he’s returning tonight.”