He carried on, something about his friend Sally’s advice, and also a sale at the hardware store, and the returns policy if Nora didn’t need anything new when it came to the shower curtain situation, and as he talked Nora realized, with a delighted sense of relief, that he had been waiting. Maybe as much as she had been.

Suddenly that shower curtain rod looked like the best thing she’d ever seen.

“Will,” she interrupted. He looked up at her, and maybe she was imagining the faint touch of color high on his cheeks, but she liked it all the same. “That was a good idea, thanks. You’ll let me know how much I owe you?”

He waved a hand. “We can figure that out after.”

“Okay.”

So this was it, the thing she’d been waiting for. Three days, or maybe—probably—even longer. Minor changes, and now she had the supplies. She had the will, and she had . . . well.

She had Will.

It was time to do this.

“Let’s get to work.”

“My God, you were right! It feels huge in here!”

In her bare feet, Nora stood inside her shower, curtain pulled closed, and admired the view. Above her hung her newly installed rod, sitting slightly higher than the previous one and bowing gently outward. She couldn’t quite account for how such a small change could make such a big difference, but it really, really did. She turned to the side, mimicking her hair-washing posture, exaggeratedly sticking out her elbows as she raised her hands to her head.

“I’m not even touching the curtain!” she exclaimed.

From the other side, she heard Will’s soft laugh, the clink of a tool being set down, and for a second, she relished this small moment of something like privacy. In all the time she’d been waiting these past three days, she hadn’t really given much thought to what it would be like to work with Will in a space as small as her bathroom, but over the last hour and a half or so she’d gotten a real clear sense, and the fact was, Will’s body was . . . effective. Effective at doing things like holding tools and fixtures, yes. But also effective at looking fantastic while doing such things. Thirty minutes ago, Nora had stood on the edge of this shower with a drill in her hand (Will was also effective at power-tool-use instruction, and at letting Nora do things herself), her partner-in-home-improvement holding up the rod that was destined to change her shower experience forever. One stray glance and Nora had caught sight of the narrow strip of skin exposed at his waist—the curve of his lean, strong hips, the line of dark hair above the button of his jeans.

She’d almost fallen right into the tub.

“Whoa, there,” Will had said, dropping one arm to steady her. So, another point for his hands in the effective column, especially since she was pretty sure she could still feel the spot on her waist where he’d touched her.