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He nodded solemnly. “Yeah. That’s something they should really mention before you have kids. That you’ll spend the rest of your life feeling guilty for anything from, “No, you can’t have a puppy,” to “You cannot eat the moldy cookie you hid behind the sofa six months ago.””
“Why would you feel guilty about that?”
“The eyes. They get you every time. Which is why they’re not allowed a puppy. I can’t have three people to guilt me into stuff.”
“The puppy would probably eat the cookie, though. It’d solve that problem.”
“There is that,” he agreed.
We shared a smile.
It was a little too intimate.
I coughed and broke the eye contact, getting my roller once again.
“Do you want a towel, or…” He paused, and I peered over at him. “The paint. It’s, um… You’re covered in it.”
I glanced at my feet and my legs. “It happens. Today more than usual.”
“You know you don’t have to have Ellie up here, don’t you? You can tell her no. I’ll even tell her no and take the guilt-trip for you.”
I laughed and started painting again. “It’s fine. She’ll probably get bored of watching me and disappear without me knowing it.”
He met my eyes and held my gaze for a long, hard second. “Your optimism. It kills me.” Then, he turned and left.
“What does that mean?” I shouted over my shoulder.
His answer? A barking laugh that made me shiver.
At least I wasn’t too awkward in that conversation. That was a win.
Chapter Fifteen
“Annen I told Daddy that if he won’t buy me the Cindewewa castle for my birssday I cry and ask Santa but Santa is before my birssday but I don’t wanna wait for Santa or my birssday I weally want it now.” Ellie paused to take a deep breath, and before I could interject some bullshit comment about patience, she started again. “Ewi got his superhewo cave and the twiceratops. It’s not fair.”
I stared at her, paintbrush dripping into the tray.
Now, I had two options here. I could resume my original attempt at talking to her about patience, but I had the feeling it would be falling on deaf ears.
Maybe because she’d started talking again, while I stood here and blinked at her.
My second option was to make soothing noises of sympathy and agreement and nod my head along with her that it wasn’t fair.
Or, a third one, I could turn around and do my job and let her whine.
That last one seemed right. After all, I’d already tuned her out. Aside from a dull buzzing, I was watching her lips moving at the speed of light, but I wasn’t hearing what she was saying.
Now, that was a skill I was interested in developing further.
I turned back to the wall, faking a nod, and finished my edging around the doorframe. She talked the entire time. Momentary flashes of paying attention said she’d gone from complaining to talking about how real unicorns were or the validity of fairies.
It was a long-ass half an hour.
“Done!” I said, stepping away from the door with a flourish.
Ellie stopped talking.
Oops.
“Can I sweep here now?” She turned her head side to side, staring out over the room.
“Uh…Not yet. You need a new floor, and curtains, and a bed…”
She huffed from her seat in the middle of the floor. “Can Ewi sweep in his?”
“Nope. I’m going to paint it now.” I put the brush in the tray and picked it up. Then, I paused. “Do you want to help me clean up?”
She pursed her lips. “Cwean up?”
“Yeah. I have to wash the pink paint off of this stuff.” I gave the tray a slight shake. “Do you want to do the brushes in the sink for me?”
She clambered up to her feet, rushed to me, and peered into the tray. “Aww fwee?”
“Not the roller. That’s hard. But sure, you can do the brushes.”
She hesitated for only a second before she nodded her head and ran. I’d barely stepped foot outside her bedroom when I heard her shout, “Ewi! Get off the toiwet!”
Okay.
Maybe I wasn’t going into the bathroom right now.
“No! I’m pooping!” Eli shouted back.
That was too much information.
“Well, stop pooping!” came Ellie’s response. “You smell bad!”
Still too much information.
“I can’t just stop pooping, Ewwie. There’s still poo in my tummy!”
“Okay!” Brantley came up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “That’s your weekly quota of the ‘p’ word used in about ten seconds. Eleanor, let your brother use the toilet. Elijah…Please stop telling the entire neighborhood what you’re doing in the bathroom.”
I snorted, dipping my head since I was still holding the tray.
Brantley turned to look at me. “Oh, Jesus. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“So am I,” I replied.
“Here, let me take this. I’ll clean it downstairs.” He grabbed the other end of the tray.
“I can do it.” I gently tugged.
