Sunny had been in the house with Ed earlier, and I knew the drives were somewhere inside. She came out looking resolved and smiling, so I had slipped my hand around hers and squeezed, silently thanking her. She squeezed back, then I tucked her into my side, needing her close.
Ed approached, his entire crew with him. “All the checks are done, Linc. Cameras set up as you asked. Crew accounted for. No heat sources have suddenly appeared. We’re ready.”
“Excellent.”
“Ear protectors,” he yelled, and we all slipped them on our heads.
“Come with me.”
I held Sunny closer, needing her with me for this moment. We stood behind the huge electronic control unit, and Ed nodded. Horns blew, loudspeakers began the countdown. He flipped open the switch. He lifted one side of my ear covering. “When we hit one, you press this. Hard. Got it?”
I swallowed thickly. “Yes.”
Sunny’s breath stuttered, and I stepped forward but reached for her hand. “It’s fine,” I murmured knowing she probably couldn’t hear me, but having to say it anyway. I couldn’t hear the countdown due to the cans over my ears to protect against the sound of the implosion. I held my finger over the button, the digit hovering in midair, watching as Ed counted down the numbers on his fingers.
At ten, my hand began to shake. By five, I was sweating. Adrenaline pumped through my body, making my head hum. Ed nodded in encouragement, and when the count hit one, I didn’t hesitate. I pressed down.
For a second or two, nothing happened. I stared dumbfounded, then it started. Explosions, one after another. The house shook, groaned, fought back, and then with a long, low scream, gave a lengthy shudder and crumbled inward.
Sunny jumped back, startled. I held her tight, watching as plumes of dust shot up as the building settled into the earth. It was exactly as I pictured. Looming one moment, gone the next.
The skies opened, torrents of rain falling, dissipating the dust. It was as if the heavens had decided they, too, wanted no reminder of the house drifting up their way.
That house that had caused me nothing but pain, held a lifetime of tears and sorrow within its walls, was gone.
“Good riddance, old man,” I hissed.
I looked down at Sunny. She gazed up at me with love. “Are you okay?” she mouthed.
I bent down and kissed her. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
“Good.”
I pulled off the ear protectors. “Let’s go home, Sunny. I need a biscuit.”
She pulled my arm close.
“Okay.”
25
Sunny
I looked in the mirror, eyeing my reflection critically. I had bought a new sundress, hoping Linc would like it. It was a soft yellow with bursts of gold, rust, pink, and white scattered around the fabric. It hung from my shoulders with two pretty bows and had a long lace flounce around my knees. I hadn’t bought a dress like this in a very long time, but tonight was a special occasion.
Linc was taking me out on a date. A real, honest-to-goodness date. He was even getting ready next door at Abby’s so he could “pick me up properly.” He had called me yesterday, his voice unusually serious.
“Sunny.”
I grinned into the phone, peeking through the door to make sure he was still sitting in the corner of the bakery where I had left him. “Linc,” I replied, biting back my amusement—he must need more biscuits. “How lovely of you to call.”
“I wanted to hear your voice.”
My heart melted. I loved how he talked to me. “Well, now you have.”
“I have a question, though. Do you have plans for tomorrow evening?”
Other than getting naked with him as soon as possible, my schedule was pretty clear. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
“No.”
“Excellent. I would like to take you out on a date.”
“A date?” I repeated.
“Yes, a date. A real date. If you’re willing.” I heard his swift intake of air. “I am asking you, Sunny, to go out with me—tomorrow night.”
Suddenly I understood. We’d never been able to date openly. Linc was trying to make up for it, and once again, my heart constricted at his sweet gesture.
“I would love to go out with you, Linc.”
“Excellent. I will pick you up at six.”
“All right. I’ll, ah, see you then?”
“Yes.” Then he paused. “Wait, Sunny?”
“Yes?”
“I’m out of biscuits.”
I burst out laughing. “I’ll make sure you get some.”
“Great. Love you.”
He hung up.
He’d been gone all day, and I heard his steps on the stairwell about an hour ago. His toiletry bag was gone from my tiny bathroom and Abby told me his suit was at her place, so I knew he meant what he said about picking me up.
Linc was different these days. In the month since his father’s house was demolished, he had changed. Gone were the shadows that constantly lurked in his eyes. The suspicious glint whenever anyone would approach him. It was as if he’d let his hate implode with the house, dispersing it into the air. He smiled more. Laughed loudly. I had forgotten how loud his laugh was. It boomed out and filled whatever room he was in. It happened frequently now. He no longer spoke of his father. It was as if he had never existed. As memories—good ones—surfaced of his mother, he talked to me about them. People in town talked to him about her, sharing their memories and he loved it, soaking up their words like a sponge. I hung his mother’s artwork in the apartment, and I often saw him staring at the pictures with a tender look. We visited the library, and he stood in front of the large framed watercolor.
“I remember this now,” he said softly. “She hung it in the den. One day after a fight, it was gone.”
I squeezed his arm. “It was here and safe.”
“And here it stays,” he said firmly, tracing the small plaque under the painting. “I like knowing people see her talent.”
He slept peacefully as long as he was beside me. We had tried to find a balance between Toronto and here, but the third night he was gone, he strode into my apartment in the early hours of dawn. I was sitting at the table, sipping water, unable to sleep. I heard him coming up the stairs, and our eyes met as he opened the door, dropping two large bags beside him.
“No more, Sunny. I can’t sleep without you anymore.” Then he held out his arms, and I ran straight into them. They closed around me tightly, offering me safety, love, and comfort. He carried me to the bedroom, and we collapsed on the bed, both too exhausted to do anything but pull up the duvet and sleep. He didn’t even stir when I slipped out to go to the bakery. It was as if his body knew I’d be close, so I let him rest.
He came and went as needed from Toronto but returned every night—even if it was well past midnight. He used the table in my place as a desk. He had a hundred and one projects on the go, it seemed. He was constantly on his phone, jumping into his car to head to a meeting, carrying mysterious plans rolled into cardboard containers. I had no idea what all he did, but it didn’t matter. He was here with me and that was all I cared about.
And tonight was our date.