“That’s what you think I am?” He cocks his head to the side, curiosity glimmering in his blue eyes.
“I don’t just think it. It’s been obvious since the day I met you. You helped a total stranger move in, then fed us, refusing to take no for an answer. And when I discovered that you bought a house beside your ex-wife and her husband to be close to your kid? That only confirmed the theory. It doesn’t get any more fixer than that.”
He frowns, lacing his fingers together. “Fuck, you’re right.”
I tip an imaginary cup in his direction in a mock toast. “Welcome to the club.”
He watches me out of the corner of his eye for a few long seconds, then clears his throat. “Don’t think you’vedistracted me from the reason I came over. You were over here crying.”
I groan, burying my face in my hands. “I was really hoping you’d forget that.”
“I forget nothing.” He kicks his legs up on the railing.
My lungs squeeze tight, scared that the whole railing will crumble, taking the whole house down with it.
Miraculously, it holds. It’s a wonder, really. If it collapsed, that would be the icing on the cake that is my epically shit-tastic day.
“I got fired,” I say, throat burning with the threat of a fresh wave of tears. “From the coffee shop,” I add. “It might not seem like much, but I need the extra income.”
Though his eyes drill into the side of my face, I don’t dare look at him. If I do, I’ll break down again. Normally I’m better at keeping my shit together, but with the added stress of keeping a roof over my brothers’ heads, I’ve reached my limit.
With a sigh, I stare out at the field behind our houses. It’s filled with wildflowers, but tonight, all that’s visible are the intermittent twinkling of fireflies.
I inhale, finding that my breath is embarrassingly shaky. I’m not even surprised I got fired. Normally I can toss myself into any situation and figure it out, but the chaos of the coffee shop, the constant noise and busyness, had me too flustered to function properly. I made a fool of myself.
“Would you like a cupcake?”
At the out-of-pocket question, I whip around to face him. “What?” I laugh. “Where did that question come from?”
Shrugging, he stands. “You sound like you could use a cupcake, and I happen to have some at home.”
With my lips pressed together, I assess him, trying not to notice how delicious he looks. “This is feeling very much like a real-lifeget in the van and I’ll give you candymoment.”
His laughter floats around us on the night air. It’s a nice laugh. Warm and sweet. It suits him.
“Do you want a cupcake or not?” he asks, eyes dancing in the moonlight. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, he leans against the railing. “I could always eat them all myself, but?—”
I hold up a hand. “I’m a girl who’s had a bad day. I’m not saying no to a cupcake.”
Inside, the boys are still sprawled out in front of the TV, watching a movie. Knowing they won’t even notice my absence, I follow Caleb down the stairs and across the yards. This is the first time I’ve crossed the invisible line that separates our homes. Despite the darkness, I try to eat up every detail. Like the small outdoor table set up close to the house with a variety of herbs on top of it.
“My daughter wanted to grow them,” he says when he notices where my gaze has gone.
With a nod, I continue my inspection, taking in the swing set and ground-level trampoline.
His porch steps don’t creak or groan beneath our weight, and his back door slides open silently as I follow him into his house.
“Wow.” The word is out before I can stop it. “This is beautiful,” I add, since there’s no taking my awe back now.
The interior walls on the main level have been removed so the dining room, kitchen, and living room are all open to one another. The wooden beams that crisscross the ceiling add warmth to the space. So does the fluffy-looking couch. It faces a tv that looks more like a framed piece of art than an expensive piece of electronics. The dining room boasts a table large enough for six. The kitchen is spacious, the chandelier above the island surprising for the home of a single man yet still fitting. The cabinets are a light brown wood color that pairs perfectly with what looks like marble countertops. The stairs near the front door have been hollowed out, and beneath them is a custom bookshelf, every inch of which is filled with books and knickknacks and photos.
This is what I want some day. A beautiful, updated house that still feels like a home.
“Thank you,” he says, leaning against the side of the island. “I had help with the design. And though I did as much work as I could on my own, I had to hire more of it out than I would have liked.”
“I’m sure, with your job, you don’t have a lot of time for home improvement projects.”
“Exactly.” He nods toward one of the stools tucked against the island. “Take a seat.”
