“Jeremy, when you said you’d help me fight my nightmares, this isn’t exactly what I thought you had in mind,” I say, handing Jeremy the screwdriver he requested.
“I think it’s helping,” he says, studying the instructions for the Ikea dresser he’s building. “I mean, what could be a better distraction from nightmares than tackling Ikea furniture.”
He’s not wrong there.
In the two weeks since I broke down and finally told Jeremy about Owen, we’ve been settling into an apartment in Dawley, a rental for now, while we figure out what we want to do.
Jeremy admitted that he’d packed up his apartment in Chicago and put everything in storage here weeks before, when he tracked me down.
Apparently, there are more blonde models called Savannah and more modelling agencies than I could ever imagine.
