“Why is this hard? I just want to eat my Cocoa Puffs and like my kitchen.” He picked up one of the milk bottle caps and idly fiddled with it.
“They’re all bland and impersonal.” She tilted her head in thought. “Your house should give people a glimpse of you. That’s why these don’t work.”
He twirled the bottle cap through his fingers. He wasn’t sure how a grouping of tiles could say anything about him, and he didn’t careabout the backsplash. He’d told her how he’d sought her out in crowds, but there was more. For ten years, he had regretted those five minutes in the parking lot. Finally admitting that might change how she felt. Or it might rip the bandage off old wounds. Avery picking his backsplash kept her here in the Red House. It was too perfect a moment to tarnish.
Miles cringed when Avery’s attention shifted to the tie he’d worn onBright and Earlylast week, discarded on the counter. She picked it up and examined the tag. Chanel. That was how she saw him. Tom Ford suits. Red carpets. The Boa couch. Proof of a glamorous life he wasn’t sure he belonged in.
“It was free,” he said, as if that made it any better. “My date wore one of their dresses, and I was told I needed to match.”
“It’s lovely,” she said, folding it neatly and putting it back.
Not as lovely as that kiss. Not as lovely as this house he might never have thought twice about if it hadn’t been for her. He needed to convince her the life he wanted was here, in this cozy A-frame, with her in it. If he nudged her back to that, maybe she’d discover the small-town guy she once loved.
“Thank you.” Avery cleared her throat. “For your much-needed perspective the night Casper bolted. I have moments where I feel so, I don’t know. Lost? Misunderstood? Typically, I’m a firm believer in fixing my own problems. You inspired me to envision what I want.”
“That’s my girl,” he blurted out. A split second later, he realized he hadn’t intended to sound possessive, or imply he expected her to please him.
“I, um, that came out wrong.” He leaned against the counter. “I meant you should, um, do it. One question: Do you know what you want?”
“Um, no?” She giggled and her nose crinkled. “I mean, it’s hard to pick one of my brilliant ideas. Give me some time, Magrum.”
The flirty swat of the back of her hand on his biceps coupled withthe playful use of his last name, which she had never done, and no one ever did, felt like a victory.
“You and I were stars that night.” He lightly poked her arm with the bottlecap’s edge. “We found a dog no one knew was missing.”
He nodded at Casper, who contentedly snored away in a sun-washed slumber.
Avery picked up her milk bottle, her eyes almost melancholy. She traced a drip of sweat down her bottle with her thumb. He let her sit with her thoughts for a moment, but as the pause grew, he wondered if he should fill the void.
With a snap of his hand, Miles flicked the milk bottle top he’d been fiddling with across the kitchen and into a red basket on top of the fridge that came from the house he grew up in. Time had frayed the edges and faded the red to pink. It reminded him of simpler times with his mom and dad. The milk top plunked off the top edge and fell inside.
“You still collect those?” She nodded at the basket.
“Ayuh, out of habit.” He couldn’t help but smile. “They switched from metal caps to plastic a couple of years ago. Over the years, I collected thousands of metal ones. I kept those, but I recycle the plastic ones because they aren’t as cool.”
“Where are they?”
Miles disappeared into the mudroom and came back with a plastic bin filled with metal milk bottle caps. Maybe seeing them would erase her impressions of the tie and sofa.
“Dad dropped them off when he and Lily’s mom moved to a single-floor house a year ago. I should recycle them, but it feels like throwing out my past. It’s silly.”
Avery dug through the box and carefully laid caps on the counter in neat lines. Linden Dairy’s milk bottle caps had a large gold star on top. Each point reached the edge rimmed in tiny stars.
“There it is.” She swept a hand above the caps like a game show hostshowing off a prize package.
“What?” All she had done was place them in neat, offset rows.
“Your backsplash.”
Miles lifted an eyebrow. She wanted him to display what others would have thrown away.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She laughed and pointed at the caps. “You love stars. They’re from your milk, your past. These are the story of you. And the gold stars match the veining in the countertops. I am not leaving until you tell me I’m right.”
She dug through the box and pulled out one with a red star.
“Why is this one red?”
“Oh, they used to do special caps at Christmas. I have more.”
