“Do you hire help for the house?” He picked up the drill I’d just put down and pressed the button to turn it on twice in quick succession. I took it from him and returned it to the stained folding table in the guest room like it might hurt him.
“Only when I really need to. My dad and I can handle most things, and if we don’t know how to do it, we can probably learn online.”
“Hm.” I felt like he was judging me in that one syllable, but I didn’t know why—did he not believe I could do it? I was very, very capable and had a clear vision. Plus, people DIY fix up their houses all the time. Why would I be any different?
“I’ll help you,” he said.
“All good, no need. Just finished.” I put a frame on the shelf for good measure to show how, indeed, these little shelves were good to go.
“I meant with the house projects in general. I want to help.”
First it was wanting to help do the job I am paid for, now he wants to be all Bob the Builder with me in my old rambler?
“Don’t you have games? Practices? Travel this week, right? You’re definitely busier than I am.”
“My days aren’t consumed by hockey for all twenty-four hours. I can help with projects, I’m strong and not seven months pregnant.”
I scoffed. “What are you trying to say?”
Barry winced and tilted his head back, already exasperated only one day into cohabitation. “Only that I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be lifting large or heavy items, and luckily, I am very good at that specifically. You don’t need to do everything by yourself.”
“Fine.”
“Great,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, and then realized my gaze on his was growing too heated in my frustration. I looked away and took a long drink of water from my bottle.
“Is the tap water good here?” Barry asked.
I couldn’t help my eyebrows creeping up my forehead. So he was picky about water?
“It’s not filtered, if that’s what you mean. Tastes fine though.”
“Right, no, that’s cool,” Barry assured me, though it was obviously not. I decided not to press if I wanted to escape this conversation without my eye twitching, instead grabbing a broom to sweep up the mess from the shelves. “So, like I said, I have a game tonight.”
I looked up at him, trying to figure out what I was supposed to say in response to this information.
“Cool,” I decided on. I’d watched a few games with Jeremy and my dad on TV, and I used the term “watch” very loosely. I usually read, or Kate and I worked on a puzzle or a craft. Barry looked like he was expecting more from me, so I went on tentatively. “And you’re…nervous about this?”
“No, not nervous,” he shook his head. “Well, maybe a little, new team and all that. But I’ll be fine. We’re playing Minnesota.”
“Ah.” I knew nothing about Minnesota’s hockey team.
“Do you want to come?”
“To the game?”
“Yeah.”
I finished sweeping and moved to needlessly organizing my worktable. “I’ve never been to a game.”
“Ever? You work at the practice facility.”
“Not for very long, it’s still new.”
“Well, how about tonight?”
I chewed on my lower lip while I thought about it, imagining the mechanics of even getting to a game—the public transport, the people, what would I even wear? But then I thought about Jeremy, who would probably strangle me if he knew I was even considering turning this offer down.
