twenty-three
“You wrecked it, so you’ve got to fix it, right?” Paul asks.
“Iwantto fix it.”
“Then, let’s go.”
With his words guiding me, I slam against the fireplace and mantel. My previous partial destruction is meeting final destruction today. It’sallcoming down, and it feels glorious. This is probably the only thing that could have ripped me away from ogling Danny.
“Don’t stop,” he says firmly.
And so I wreck what once was until there is nothing left but bare bones. My arms throb again, and my breathing is raw, but I am so happy.
I slump over the sledgehammer. “Now what?”
“Now?” Paul says soothingly. “Now, you rebuild. With that beautiful tile you picked out.”
“It’s white. That’s all. Danny probably hates it.” My body is hurting, and I try to stretch away some of the discomfort, but I’m tired.
“No, he loves it. And so do you. The tile’s got a nice wave, Callie.” Paul moves a box in front of me. “It’s white, yeah, but it delivers a beautiful shape. Look at that texture.”
He’s right. I do love this.
“Okay.” My endurance is renewed. “Let’s do this.”
Paul watches over me again for hours as I start placing tile, guiding me when I start to screw up and also clapping when I do well and stepping in hard when I fuck up—which I do more than once. My arms are junk when we’re done.
“I’ll grout and seal this for you tomorrow, okay?” He crashes onto the couch. “But only if we make a deal.”
“Whatever.” I’m so wiped that I’d probably agree to anything.
“New furniture. This couch sucks.” He hauls himself up. “Never sitting down on that again.”
He does have a point. All of this old furniture needs to go.
“Deal,” I say. “I’ve had my eye on some things for this room, so I’ll order them tonight.”
He heads for the door. “Hey? Another good day, Callie. Proud of you.”
Paul takes off, and I let myself relax for a beat before I notice that the noise from the bathroom has ended and the workers have gone, so I force myself to get up and take a peek inside. Not only are my cool new washing machine, dryer, sink, and toilet installed, but the fun black-and-white peony wallpaper that I chose is up. My sigh of relief and pride is a first. The tile color is just right. Everything is just right, and I cannot breathe as I stand, awestruck at what I designed.
“I know you didn’t want to talk about toilets, but this is a damn sexy one.” Danny is suddenly behind me.
I laugh. “It is.”
“And this is a totally hot bathroom-slash-laundry room. I’m fuckin’ impressed.”
“My tile work isn’t perfect though,” I say. “There are a few spots where I messed up the grout, some gaps larger than I’d like between the tile and the molding—”
“It’s fantastic!.” He puts two hands on my shoulders and leans in. “My god, take the win.”
He’s right. I should take the win.
“Your dock is finished. It looks fantastic.”
I spin around. “Yeah? Show me!”
He grabs my hand and pulls. “It’s possibly even sexier than this bathroom.”
