AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How the fuckdid I get you to make me agree to this?” Finch moans as he dips his roller back into the tray, swishes it in the paint and then proceeds to roll the light grey onto the wall. I’m not sure if this will work. If she’ll even come back here but I’ve got to try, because I’m learning to be this stupid romantic fool. Because everything about Ali is worth it, even the blisters this mother fucking paint brush is giving me.
Between us, me and Finch, we have spent the last four days stripping out the two spare bedrooms in my apartment. Relaying the flooring which it turns out Finch is a dab hand at. If we ever release a flop record, he could certainly look into laying laminate for a living. Me? Not so much, but my painting isn’t half bad.
My sister is on a shift at the hospital but when Finch told her about my plan to paint the rooms ready for Ali and the baby, she insisted on helping to pick the colours. And when she says helping, she meant taking over the whole thing. Going mad with my credit card ordering all of the high-end baby and bedroom furniture she could find and having a field day with the farrow and ball paint chart. The nursery, she said we had to have neutral, calming colours and even though we knew it was a girl it couldn’t be pink, so she opted for an off white with ‘yellow accents’ whatever the fuck that means. It looks good though. We’re second coating my second bedroom in a light grey. For Ali. So, she’s got some space of her own here—whether she wants it or not.
The furniture for the nursery is arriving today along with the new mattress and the sheets and blinds for Ali’s room.
“I mean, surely, you can afford to pay someone to do this for you,” Finch grumbles, but we both know he’s loved doing this as much as I have.
“Yeah, I probably can. You probably could have paid someone to do your half too but fuck it I kind of thought it would be fun.” I laugh.
“It kind of is,” Finch admits. “But I am sick of this heavy stuff. Please just for an hour. Let’s listen to some classics. A bit ofElvis Presleyinstead ofSlipknot’s Dualityalbum for the sixth time today perhaps?”
I chuckle, groan but agree and tell the speakers to playFrom Elvis in Memphisfollowed byNice ‘N’ EasybySinatrato appease my friend, which also happens to be a favourite of mine as the doorbell rings.
“That’ll be the furniture. I’ll bring it in and then maybe we can stop for food?”
Finch nods in agreement. Resting his roller down and standing then following me into the kitchen.
I walk to the door, pull it open. Startled by what I see.
“I helped these guys carry all of this shit up here. I hope to God this furniture actually belongs to you, Baines.” Bobby smiles at me as he runs a hand through his messy black mop of hair. Surrounded by brown flat pack boxes and holding a bag of something that looks homemade and fucking delicious.
“Bobs.” I smile at him, so shocked that he’s here, I step closer to him.
“Dude, at first I only agreed to this plan because I thought it might make Alison smile,” he looks over my shoulder at Finch and shrugs, they share a knowing look. “But the more I thought about it, the more I realised I wanted your sorry fucking arse to be happy too.”
“I’m sorry, Bobs. I really am. I don’t even know. I just…”
“You were a dick, Max. A complete fucking cock. But we’re your best friends and as much as I do blame you for making your own choices unlike Finch, but I can see why you made them, I can also see why you thought it was and is the best option for you.”
“Bobs, I don’t know, I don’t think I—”
He cuts me off with his hand. “Don’t make a choice about your life because of us. We’ll support you, whichever way this goes. Now Emma’s sent these cheese scones, which I’m sure you two are dying to eat. But you can’t until we’ve bought all this flat pack in.”
He smiles at me and Finch as he strolls inside and drops the Tupperware container on the island.
“Lucky for you boys I happen to be a dab hand at flat pack and have even bought my own Allen keys as the shitty ones they give you in these boxes never fucking last.”
He laughs, I do too.
“You’d think my wife would have better taste being married to a quarter of the bestselling British rock bands of all time. But you can’t take the girl out of East London. My boy’s room is full of fucking Ikea.” He chuckles as he walks back outside to start carrying the boxes in. My heart fills with pride again, with love for the two men in front of me, even if one quarter is missing.
“Is Tommy coming?” I ask them both. I didn’t even know Bobs was. I didn’t think he’d want to see me.
Finch shakes his head. “He’s taking it to heart still.”
I nod, it’s understandable.
“He flew to Vegas last night.”
* * *
“So, Tommy’s in Vegas?”I ask Bobs as we sit together on the mattress that’s just been delivered that we’ve put on Ali’s bed. Finch walks back in, three bottled lagers in hand and passes one to each of us. We clink the bottles as we lean back and assess our handy work. Bobby didn’t lie. He is a dab hand at the flat pack. He put together the cot, the changing table, and the wardrobe for my little girl’s room whilst me and Finch finished the painting. We bought in the mattress and cleaned up the rest of the furniture in the other bedroom. I can’t believe how good it looks in here considering three fucking amateurs did it.
Bobby nods as he thanks Finch for the beer.
“Yeah. It’s going to take him a while to come round, Max,” Bobs admits as he takes a draw of his lager.
