Sinner and Saint

Chapter Six

"What do you think? She's a beauty, yeah?"

"She... needs work."

I glanced sideways at Jamie and his completely unfazed expression.

I sighed. "Yes, the three little words we all want to hear from a man."

Jamie just raised a brow and said nothing. Of course.

Ignoring him, I leaned down to more closely inspect the rough edges. "But then, we all need some work, don't we? Lucky for her, she only needs some wet mortar before everyone wants to cozy up to her."

"Paint is cheaper. Easier."

I grinned at Jamie. "Sure but it's not the real thing. I want that gritty texture. I want to run my fingers along the surface and know that this is history. Not just decor."

Jamie rolled his eyes to the heavens. That's Jamie-speak for me being overdramatic. After more than two years of working together on several projects here and there, he's known me long enough to confidently express that thought in my face. He gets to keep his nose nice and intact.

Still...

"Let's do it," I insisted, stepping back to look at the massive brick fireplace that ran from the peak of the vaulted ceiling all the way down to the hardwood floors.

We unearthed it a few days ago from behind ugly wood panels in what used to be a converted playroom. The guys finally finished taking all the panels down today. Jamie and I came in an hour ago to clean up all the debris. That whole time, I tried talking him into refinishing the brickwork as close to the original as we can manage while he consistently reminded me to stay on budget for this flip. He's nearly as good as I am at wearing someone down.

"Your dime, your time," he said with a shrug.

He was right.

It is and has been in the last three months since I bought this crumbling duplex-conversion. It was on the outskirts of Sidley Yard, Cobalt Bay's oldest neighbourhood where character homes and vintage buildings blended in a postcard-pretty but expensive real estate mix.

The property was far out enough and in such poor shape that I was able to snag it with my first lowball offer. It was never going to look like the grand house from the twenties that it once was but with a little bit of money and some serious sweat equity, I was going to flip it into a four-unit townhouse, sized and priced well to be a starter home close to the heart of the city. I just actually have to pull this off.

It was a lot of work—hard and dirty labor—but it felt good at the end of every day.

I was doing something I cared about.

And something that actually worked as a distraction.

Because I've needed it. Lots and lots of it in the last six months.

No, there was no forgetting a night like that with Stellan.

I would remember it till my dying day.

But it was still possible to keep myself from repeating what should've never happened.

I tried running.

That only got me so far for so long. Halfway across the world, through twenty different kinds of modelling projects that kept me home as little as possible.

And that was only the first four months.

I spent another month on a remote island resort in the Philippines that Penny, a friend of mine, owned. She and I worked at the same agency before she married a rich commercial developer and moved to the tropics where life was lusher, slower and simpler. She just had a baby and I'd been promising her to visit. Two weeks became three and then became five. My experience with children was practically nonexistent but her pudgy, forever-grinning six-month-old daughter, Violet, was too hard to resist. I spent majority of my days with them especially since her husband was away to a new resort project in Bali. It wasn't the best distraction because taking care of Violet constantly reminded me of what mine and Stellan's little oopsie could've brought about but I can't say I regretted the chance.