Chapter 97

“Wait, Richie is an architect?” I had to corroborate.

“He is a partner in his cousins’ construction company, although they generally work in Sydney and its surroundings. They are his people, not mine,” he assured me, with a hint of pride in his voice. “I just asked who wanted to help me with that and he automatically offered. He said he could build your house again as if nothing had ever happened to it.”

At that moment I laughed again, remembering all the ideas I had had about Richie when I met him.

“What is so funny?” Ivan asked, intrigued.

“Myself. I thought Richie was a rancher. You know, because of the hat.”

We were having such a good time talking, as if we hadn’t seen each other in years, that I didn’t realize that I was on the phone with him for almost an hour. And I had no intention of hanging up, even though he sounded a little tired and I should have appealed to common sense to leave him alone.

I didn’t want to hang up, because I was afra