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I still do not know whether I want to be here.

I know I want tomorrow to come.

And I want Laura to be here when it does.

Chapter Five

Laura

Morning light comes through the gap in the curtains, and for one sleepy second, I’m still inside an ordinary morning. Then I remember there’s a six-foot man made of living wicker sleeping across the hall.

My eyes open. “Oh, my God.”

Kell. The wish. The fire in my kitchen sink. My knitting basket unraveling on the floor beside it. Warm amber eyes opening and immediately deciding I was beautiful.

And later, sitting on the edge of my guest bed in Dave’s old drawstring pants, telling me he didn’t know whether he wanted to be here. I stare at the ceiling. Last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about Megan having plans for Saturday. Doing something felt more important than being certain. This morning, I’m painfully aware that the thing I did resulted in an actual person. A person who already knew pieces of me before I knew there was anyone listening. A person who doesn’t owe me companionship just because I wished for it. A person I know almost nothing about.

“What the hell was I thinking?”

The answer comes back more easily than I expected. I was thinking that I didn’t want to spend another four years waiting until I was certain. That part hasn’t changed.

It turns out that making a choice and feeling completely confident about the consequences are two very different things. A muted thump comes from downstairs. I stop, listening. Another sound follows, not a crash, more like a cabinet door reaching the end of its hinges. Then comes the soft knock of something bumping the counter.

Kell is awake. He’s also discovered that cabinets contain things.

I get out of bed and cross the hall. The guest-room door is open, the bed is empty, and the comforter is pulled halfway off one corner, which suggests Kell slept or at least attempted something involving horizontal contact with bedding. Dave’s pants are also gone, which is an encouraging sign that he isn’t wandering around the house naked. Although…

By the time I reach the kitchen doorway, six cabinet doors are open. Kell stands near them wearing Dave’s dark gray drawstring pants and nothing else. Morning light catches the brown willow across his shoulders and the narrow living green threaded through his arms.

Last night there was too much happening for me to think about his appearance beyond the impossible fact of him. In daylight, that excuse disappears.

Kell is an extremely attractive man. Broad shoulders, lean hips, long legs, and a face made of tightly woven brown willow that has no business being that handsome.

One pantry door hangs open behind him, the fridge is spilling cold air into the room, and he has a jar of peanut butter in his hand. He turns when I enter. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” I cross the kitchen and close the fridge. “This one needs to stay closed. If you leave it open, the food gets warm and spoils.” Kell follows the movement, then watches me shut the pantry too. “How long have you been awake?”

He takes the question seriously for a couple of seconds before giving up. “Do not know.”

“Right. Of course you don’t.” I reach for another cabinet door, but his question stops me.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

He gestures toward the pantry I just closed. It takes me a moment to understand. “Why did I close it?”

“Yes.”

“Because you were finished with it.”

His attention returns to the door. “I might go back.”

I look at the peanut butter in his hand, then at the pantry. “Then you can open it again.”

That answer clearly requires consideration. While he’s doing it, I close two more cabinet doors. By the third cabinet, he notices. “You keep doing that.”

“Closing things?”