“I think boring gets a bad rap,” she says. “There’s a kind of safety in it, steadiness. I’m not used to…safe and steady.”
I nod, letting it sit between us. It’s ingrained in me. I’m a safe bet. The one who likes to stay home and cook dinner. Rooting myself in Saxville has brought me peace and a place I can call home, unlike where I was before.
I’m not privy to her story about a place that didn’t call her to stay, but if we keep talking, I hope she will share it with me.
“I’m not the type to try to change people. I’ve been there before, once, but it didn’t work,” I say.
She gazes at me, really looks, and her smile softens, and something shifts in her gaze.
“Then I guess I should ask—what’s behind the lawyer and the polo shirts? Seriously, we’re at a cookout.”
“Touché.” I chuckle at her implication, but I love my polo shirts.
She is quick on her feet, and I don’t want our conversation to end. “I mean, seriously?” she says. “Why Saxville for you? Did you grow up here?”
Where to start with my story?
“No, I didn’t grow up here, but I did a couple of towns over. After law school, I wanted a change. The best I could do was buy a fixer-upper in Saxville. It’s been my dream to own a property on the lake.”
“Wait, so you’re telling me you live on this lake too? How awesome is that!” The excitement in her voice relaxes my stiff shoulders.
My gaze shifts from her to the water and across the lake, where I see the speck that is my home. I point to it and say, “Right there.”
She leans forward, squinting her eyes. “I can see a little something, but is it there?” She playfully smacks my arm. “Why didn’t you say anything? How’s the project coming along?”
The conversation shifts to me and renovation talk, and I’m all about it. “Well, I’m almost finished with the first floor. The kitchen was by far my favorite project. My brother helped with some of the finer details I couldn’t do, like the tile for the backsplash. I tried, but it was terrible, and I had to rip it out.”
“Kitchens are my favorite. Do you have pictures?” She’s practically jumping out of her seat with excitement.
I dig into my pocket and pull out my phone. Scanning the album with all the reno pictures, I come to the kitchen ones and hand her my phone.
Her eyes are wide, and she has a genuine smile. “Oh…this kitchen is to die for.”
It really is. We started with hardwood flooring, hung all the cabinets, which are two-toned—light grey on top and a dark blueish-grey on the bottom—and then installed the eight-foot island. I thought it would be too big for the space, but my brother knows best. He outdid himself in the design of my kitchen. The Viking appliances fit perfectly into the space, just as he said they would.
The countertops were by far the best decision. The blue and grey granite with deep veins crossing through accentuated the space and brought it all together.
“The before pictures are horrendous.” I shake my head, remembering the pine-wood cabinets and orange laminate countertops with silver trim.
“I have to see the before and after pictures.” She shoves my phone back into my hand.
I fumble through a few pictures before I get to the old kitchen pictures and hand the phone back to her.
She slaps a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. “That is horrible. I thought you might have been over exaggerating, yah know, for effect.”
A smirk tugs at my lips as I think this is easy—easy to talk to her; we have things in common. It’s refreshing. “You should stop by sometime and check it out. I’ll warn you, there are still a lot of projects…not started, halfway done, and it’s a complete disaster in those construction zones.” To share this project with someone as enthusiastic about the kitchen as I am—who isn’t my brother—would be wonderful.
“Right up my alley. I’d love to come by.” The excitement swirling in her eyes stirs a flame in my chest.
Our eyes lock, and I resist the urge to touch her face and kiss her. Soaking up every drop of happiness she is giving right now, it’s infectious. None of my girlfriends or dates has ever had this reaction about my renovation projects, and I want to savor it.
She gazes at me with those big hazel eyes with flecks of gold. “What change were you looking for when you settled back down here?”
The hope in her eyes makes me want to tell her more. “Katrina, my ex, and I dated for a couple of years, and when the party life didn’t stop for her, something had to change…Here I am back in Saxville for the last three years.”
She nudges my shoulder. “Katrina…?”
Talking to Ava, her presence opens me up to telling her more. “Katrina…she wanted to party all the time. Boston is a city where you can party all night and then work all day. I have no idea how she did it day in and day out. For me, it was exhausting, and not how I saw myself living my life long-term. I decided to propose to her because I guess it felt like the right thing to do. The same day I was planning on popping the question, she came home, packed her things, and left, saying she was done with me for not committing to our relationship and how she wanted to live her life.” My shoulders slump, and my head hangs. It was a devastating day. “I was left holding a velvet box in my hand, watching what I thought was my future walk out the door. Instead, she did me a favor. Her true colors came out that day…well, they poked out here and there before then, but it stays with me now. It was a good lesson to learn, I guess.”
