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While she navigated the piece into the house, she didn’t have time to consider that this was the first time he’d been inside. They dropped the sofa in the foyer by the den, and he stretched, casually scanning the rooms and taking a quick look around.
“What are you doing with the old one?” He glanced into the den.
For some reason this made her notice all the belongings that were Nash’s, things she had no real use for like his piano, bongos, and various guitars. She looked at the old red couch.
“I was going to put it in the shed.” She might be ready to replace it with the blue sofa, but she wasn’t ready to let it go.
“We could just put it on the curb.”
“No, bulk pickup isn’t for a few weeks.” She had no clue when bulk pickup actually was.
“If you want, I could run it to the landfill in my truck.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just stick it in the shed for now.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded. The thought of removing a piece of her prior life permanently would probably require a solid hour of therapy, several shots of whiskey, and a good amount of tears. She had none of those things on hand at the moment. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t had a drink or cried since she started seeing Alec Devereux—not counting the tears shed in session of course.
They carried the old couch to the shed, which swallowed the remainder of free space, but she needed to know it would be there if she wanted to sit on it. After quickly vacuuming the carpet, she helped Ryan slide the new sofa into place. He pulled off the plastic wrap and she stepped back to look at it.
Her enthusiasm deflated. “Well, that doesn’t work.” It looked horrible against the dark burnt sienna walls.
“I like it.”
“You’re a guy.”
“So? I think it’s pretty.”
She laughed at his easy use of the word pretty. “It doesn’t go with anything.”
“So paint.”
She glanced around the room, supposing the walls could use a fresh coat. Once she really looked, all the nicks and chips really came into view. Painting was probably a good idea. It needed it.
She purposely tried not to think too hard about how such a transformation might trigger panic. “What are your plans this weekend?”
He laughed and backed out of the living room, hands up in surrender. “Oh, no you don’t. I’ve got a house full of rooms that need work.”
She tried for puppy dog eyes. Painting alone sucked. But painting with someone could be fun. And it went twice as fast. “Please? I’ll help you if you help me.”
He paused. “Really?”
“Sure. Painting’s always better when you have a partner.”
His posture instantly relaxed. “Deal.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That was easy.”
“My house has old lady wallpaper.”
She shut her eyes and groaned. “No wonder you agreed so quickly. Whatever. Tall person does the ceilings.”
Chapter 13
The following morning, Ryan was knocking on her back door when she pulled her bike into the driveway after her usual morning coffee session with Nash.
“Hey.” Maggie hopped off the seat and leaned it against the shed. “You’re up early.” Grabbing the thermos out of the basket, she entered the backyard.
“I…” He glanced at her house. “I thought you were still sleeping.”
She hopped up the back steps and entered the kitchen. “Nope. I hardly ever sleep.”
He followed her into the house. “You left your door unlocked.”
“I never lock it. Do you want coffee?”
“No thanks. I was heading to the hardware store for supplies. I thought you’d want to come.”
She rinsed out her thermos. “Sure, I just need to grab a pillow off the new sofa so I can match colors.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you in the truck.”
She was halfway to the living room and he was already out the back door when his words reached her. She raced into the kitchen and stared at the empty room. A sick sticky feeling crawled through her belly, and she swallowed.
She meant to go after him, to call him back and work out a plan B. But she just stood there. Her stare bounced from the door to Nash’s coat, to the spare car keys hanging on the hook.
She wouldn’t be able to transport paint cans and supplies on her bike. Did the hardware store deliver? Maybe she could meet him there.
“What are you doing?” He popped his head through the door and frowned. “Where’s the pillow?”
“I… I can’t go with you.”
He stepped back into the kitchen. “Why?”
“I…” She swallowed again. A sheen of sweat gathered on her skin. Her knees weren’t locking. She should sit down but she feared falling if she tried to move.
“Maggie, what’s going on?” He crossed the room and cupped her shoulders, crouching down to look into her eyes.
She blinked rapidly. “I can’t drive with you.”
His frown deepened. “Why not?” Then he drew back, comprehension reflecting in his concerned gaze. “Because you don’t drive anywhere.”
