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His eyebrows shot up. “You just heard that conversation. Let me do it. Honestly. Think of it as my apology for it.”
“It’s fine, honestly. It’ll take me about five seconds to do, and I—”
He gave the tray a good yank and pulled it right out of my hands. “Thank you.”
My jaw dropped. “I didn’t—hey!”
He ignored me completely as he went down the stairs. I stared at his retreating back until I couldn’t see it anymore. I was frozen at the top of the stairs, and while a part of me wanted to chase him down and force him to let me clean the stuff, the rest of me didn’t want to be alone with him.
Was it any wonder why?
I left it. Turned and headed into Eli’s room where the blue and red cans of paint and a fresh set of brushes and a roller were waiting for me. After all, I didn’t need the dirty rollers, but I just liked to clean them while they were wet.
I poured the red paint into the tray. Eli had been very clear he wanted the bigger walls red and the smaller ones blue, so I lumped a ton of paint into the tray, ready to get started.
I touched the roller to the wall. The squelching noise it made as it transferred the paint to the wall always made me cringe at first. But not quite as much as the sound of Ellie shouting at Eli to wash his “poopy hands.”
Yep.
That was definitely the worst thing I’d hear all day.
I shuddered and carried on with the painting. I’d pushed the door almost closed, and the boards outside in the hall creaked. There was muffled whispering, and I braced myself for the onslaught of two tiny people, but then…
“Ellie. Eli. Downstairs!”
“But—”
“Down. Stairs!”
There was a pause, then there was the unmistakable sound of two people going downstairs.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank you, Brantley.
***
The door creaked open.
Kneeling on the floor with my brush dipped in the tray full of red paint, I peeked over my shoulder. Eli hovered in the doorway, his eyes wide with delight as he looked at the two bright-blue walls.
“Hi,” I said slowly.
He jerked his attention to me and held out a bottle of water. “Daddy said you might want some water.”
Actually, I did.
I set down the brush and motioned him to come in. “I’d love one. Thank you. That’s so nice of you to bring me it.”
He blushed. Quickly, he handed me the bottle and shuffled back. His eyes flitted side to side again, never really making eye contact with me.
He was looking at the walls again.
“Do you like the blue?” I asked softly, tracing my gaze over his face.
He nodded. “Wots,” he whispered.
His shyness sucker-punched me in the gut. Never had I known twins so polar-opposite in their personalities.
Then again, Ellie spoke so he didn’t have to.
“Do you want to see the red, too?”
He nodded again, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his shorts.
“Come here.” I capped the water bottle, set it down, and shifted over for him to see. “There’s not a lot, because I just started doing the edges.”
He bent forward at the waist, looking at the bottom corner and where I’d started to edge the corner of the wall. “Why are you doing that?”
“Just at the edges?”
More nodding.
“Well, it’s quite tricky. It’s to stop me getting a lot of paint on the other wall or the ceiling or baseboards with the roller. Look—watch.” I removed excess paint from the brush and gently painted a little, getting the bristles in at the corner. “Sometimes I use tape to help me, but this blue might still be a little wet.”
“Is that the tape?” He pointed at the taped baseboards.
“It is. I don’t like to take it off until the paint is dry. I think the other wall might be done. Want to see?”
Nodding again. “How does it work?”
I dropped the brush and shuffled across the room on my knees. “It helps me get the lines right. I don’t have to be as careful, because if I get paint on the tape, it doesn’t matter.” I pinched the edge of the tape and slowly pulled it. “See?”
He basically leaned right on top of me and watched as I gently peeled the tape from the baseboard. He moved with me as I crawled across the floor.
“You see? It’s a perfect, straight line.” Near enough.
“Wow,” he breathed, awe filling his tone with lightness. “That’s ‘mazin’.”
“It is. My daddy taught me that trick.”
Eli turned to me, eyes wide with delight, cheeks flushed with excitement. “Do you think my daddy knows the tape twick?”
“Maybe. I think a lot of daddies know it.”
“Wow,” he repeated. “Is the udder one ready?”
“The tape on the other wall?”
He nodded.
“Not quite. Did you want to help peel it off?”
