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We set the desk up in the corner of the room and stand back to admire “our” handy work.
“It’s gorgeous,” she says.
“Agreed.”
She turns to me and puts her hands on her hips. “Now what?”
“If the first layer of stain is dry, I need to add another. Want to do that?”
“Sure, why not,” she says as she walks out of the bedroom.
We spend the next hours staining the bookshelves and talking…occasionally.
“Phew, that was actually more work than I thought it was going to be,” she says, wiping her arm across her forehead.
“Want a beer?” I ask.
“Yes. One thousand percent.”
I grab us a couple, and we go back into the spare room and sit in the center.
“Chrissy, can I ask you a question?” I ask her.
“Sure.”
“What did I do?”
“What do you mean?”
“That night at the bar, after our friends got engaged, you went from talking to me to avoiding me and ever since then, I feel like we have had this love-hate relationship. The love part only because our friends are married.”
“Honestly, you wouldn’t shut up…about yourself.”
“Really?” I cock my head to the side. I don’t remember doing that, but there’s a good possibility that I did.
“Yeah, about your truck, your motorcycle, your job, how you had a perfect upbringing, how smart you are and on and on. You wouldn’t let anyone get a word in edgewise. It was super annoying, and the night wasn’t about you, it was about them.”
I nod my head and pinch my lips between my teeth.
“I mean. It was my birthday,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.
“Your birthday was the day before. That was just a cover,” she says as she takes a drink from the glass bottle. I watch her lips as they push against the opening.
“True,” I say, pulling my attention away from her mouth.
“Then, when I came for the dress fitting, it seemed like you didn’t want Sarah to marry Chris. Like, why wouldn’t you want your friend to be happy?”
I take another drink of my beer and look around the room.
“Can I tell you something?” I ask her, my tone lower.
“Sure.” She looks at me, sets her beer down and folds her hands in her crisscrossed lap.
“In high school, I didn’t hit puberty at the same time as the other guys, like Grayson, Chris and Curtis did. I was the scrawny guy and to top it off, I had really bad acne, braces, and I constantly had a book in my hand.”
“So, you were a total dork?”
I scowl at her slightly and she puts her hands up. “Sorry,” she says sweetly.
