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1
Rae
I tossed the door open to Clint’s apartment and drew in a deep breath. I never thought the smell of packed boxes and fresh packing tape could ever make me smile, but it did. I looked at the towers of brown cardboard stacked in the corners. For once, I could finally see the carpet of this place. I closed the door behind me and moved into the kitchen in search of a snack. And when the smell of lemon alcohol filled my nostrils, I smiled.
We were only two days away from moving.
“All right. Let’s see what the fridge has for me,” I murmured.
I opened the door and sighed. There wasn’t much. No matter how many times I opened this refrigerator door on a daily basis, nothing seemed to change. No fun snacks appeared. My favorite soda had still run out. There was still leftover chili from two weeks ago. I shivered at the thought. The congealed mess needed to be poured into the garbage disposal.
“Don’t mind if I do,” I whispered.
I slipped the container out and carried it over to the sink. I held my breath as I popped the top open. Yet, somehow, that still didn’t shield me from the smell.
“Oh, man,” I wheezed.
I flipped on the hot water and washed it down the garbage disposal. I turned it on and reached for the soap, squeezing the green apple goodness into the disposal with it. I watched bubbles fill the sink. Both sides of it, actually. And as the bubbles started disappearing, I let out the breath I had been holding.
“Wow. Okay. Mail time,” I breathed.
I took my keys and walked back out to get the mail. I needed some time for the wind to blow away the stench sitting strongly in the crook of my nose. After breathing some deep breaths of fresh air, I found my way back inside again. I hung my keys up on the hook by the door and flipped through the endless envelopes of junk, spam, and random bank statements.
Ugh. I have to call them and tell them we’re paperless again.
I slipped out a couple of flyers that mentioned something about mortgage rates. Home-owning. How rates for loans were the lowest they’d been in well over a decade. And the sentiments made me smile. I knew all about that kind of stuff. The loans. The percentages. The kinds of homes people were looking for.
Then I came across an envelope I’d need.
“You’re going up on the fridge,” I murmured.
I walked into the kitchen and tacked the envelope onto the front of the refrigerator with a magnet. Our realtor said he’d be sending copies of all the paperwork we had signed in order to make our purchase official. And I needed to make sure I kept track of these documents. I didn’t have a formal filing cabinet to put it in, so the fridge door was the next best thing.
I’ll get a filing cabinet once we get moved.
My phone vibrated against my hip and I set the rest of the mail down. It was junk, anyway. Needed to be tossed with the rest of the trash bags full of stuff we had strewn around this place. I slid my phone out and smiled. Even now, every time I saw him calling I got chills on the nape of my neck. I answered the phone and put it to my ear. My body readied itself for his voice.
For the soothing, wonderful voice that had gotten me through so much as a teenager.
“Well, hi there.”
He chuckled. “Hey there, beautiful. You home from work?”
“I am. Just walked in a few minutes ago. And before you ask, I finally took care of that chili. I know you must be proud.”
“Proud as a papa. But I have some bad news.”
I paused. “Everything okay?”
“The cover designer for my novel ran over our meeting time by about thirty minutes. I’m just now leaving.”
“And you’re still halfway across town.”
“Yep.”
“Any accidents in your way?”
“You know how it goes. One minute we’re good and the next, we’re delayed another thirty minutes.”
I made my way into our bedroom. “Well, was it at least a productive meeting?”
“More or less. We settled on a cover, so that’s a good thing.”
“Should I even ask about the rest of it?”
“Let’s just say the cover designer is a talker. And not always about things that matter. Ever.”
I giggled. “Oh, you poor thing. Sounds like you need some Chinese.”
He snickered. “We had that last night. And three times last week.”
“And it sounds like you could use it again tonight. You know, before I get to packing more boxes. I need energy for that, you know.”
He chuckled again. “Why don’t you wait for me to get home and we can pack up those couple of boxes together?”
“That depends. Will you pick up Chinese on the way home?”
“What makes you think I wasn’t already going to do that anyway?”
I kicked off my shoes. “You’re perfect, you know that?”
“Eh, so I’ve been told.”
