She started to give it to me, then thought twice about it and yanked it back before it could settle in my hand. “Actually, I want it to be a surprise,” she said. “We’re doing something a bit different.”
I narrowed my eyes. “A surprise?”
She nodded. “At least until it’s ready for me to try on, I guess.”
An image flashed into my mind unbidden of Morgan in a classic Ren Faire get-up, like the tavern wenches in the videos I’d seen online. I didn’t hate the idea of it. But I needed to stop thinking about it, otherwise I’d be useless for getting anything done.
“Okay fine, what’s on the list for today?” I asked. And when she smirked, I realised my mistake. “Sorry, yes, I know you were telling me a minute ago. But I wasn’t listening. I was too busy being nosy.”
“Fine,” she said, then walked me into the kitchen – equally cosy, though the stick-on vinyl everywhere was definitely a choice – and showed me the to-do list she’d written up on a tiny whiteboard. Funny enough, removing all the offending vinyl was on the list. Only one item was checked off so far – “get rid of mood lighting”. I chuckled and wondered if that was a landlord-mandated task or a precaution for me. Either way, it was probably for the best.
“Okay,” I said with a big exhale, taking in everything we still needed to do. “This is a lot for one day, but it’s possibly doable. Do you have the paint?”
I looked down at her, and she shook her head, baring her teeth in a not-quite-smile.
“Okay, then that’s job one. It also depends on how easily this stuff comes up,” I said, rapping my knuckles against the worktop. “Did you keep any of the instructions from when you put it on?”
“I’ll give you one guess,” she said, and I sighed. This would be a long day.
“Okay, then we’d better get started,” I said. “Why don’t you start on some of the easier stuff, like boxing up the books that need to move? I’ll go get paint.”
She frowned. “I don’t know what colour it is.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “Here, let me show you.”
I grabbed a knife from the small pile of dishes in the sink and led her to the front door. I opened it and then held up the knife, working slowly and carefully to remove as big a piece of paint as possible from the door. It wasn’t easy; most of it was weather-beaten, and it had clearly been years since it had been painted. But it was a nice wooden door, not a modern PVC one, and so I managed to get roughly a square inch, which I held carefully in my hand.
“Can they really match it that way?” she asked. I nodded.
“It’s usually pretty good. It may not be exact, but I’m sure your landlord wouldn’t notice. If they knew the exact colour, I’m sure they would have told you.”
“Thank you,” she said, and she sounded genuinely relieved. “I mean, I could have figured out the paint matching. But thank you for being here. I’ve been dreading all of it.”
“Happy to help,” I said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Now, I should go get some paint. You take this” – I handed her the knife handle-first – “and make sure you wash it before you use it again. Really well.”
“Aye aye, captain,” she said, saluting me. I rolled my eyes and then headed back to the car.
A moment later, right as I got in, she ran out after me, thankfully no longer wielding the knife. “Wait,” she said, leaning in through the passenger window. “I need to give you money for the paint.”
“I don’t mind helping out,” I said. “You can pay me back later.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I took out some cash specifically for it. Take it.” She reached over to hand me two folded-up twenties, which I was confident was more than enough for what we needed.
Just as the notes transferred from her hand to mine, her eyes panned to the duffel bag in the front seat, and she frowned. Then she looked back up at me and narrowed her eyes.
“What’s that for?” she asked, and I had the sudden realisation that it might look like I planned to stay the night.
“Oh god, not that,” I said, and she instantly softened, and something that maybe looked like disappointment flashed across her face. I tried to ignore how that disappointment made me feel. “I was away with some friends.”
“Oh really?” she asked. “What for?”
“A stag do.”
“Fun,” she said, then leaned back out of the window. “See you in a bit then!”
“Yeah, see you,” I said, waving as I put the car in gear and drove off, desperately hoping she hadn’t seen the book-shaped protrusion on the side of the bag.
Chapter24
