“Come, be mundane with me,”Weston requested from the living room doorway.
He’d just woken up. His hair looked tousled from the bed. He let out a cute yawn that almost distracted me. Almost.
I’d been up for a couple of hours, starting my search from where Ari instructed - Bill’s past. My rabbit hole comprised tabs and tabs of football articles and social media profiles.
“I’m close to a breakthrough,” I told him without looking up from my screen. Bill taught at a community college before landing his gig at Westbrooke University. He’d left after just two months. There was only one social media post providing evidence he’d even taught there. It had a few comments and only one was negative. The user accused Bill of being a monster. When I clicked on the user’s icon, I was taken to a page showing the account had been deactivated.
“Covee.” Weston crouched down in my makeshift set up. I’d gathered as many pillows as I could, creating a soft fortress of sleuthing. “Look at the window.”
“Hm?” I scratched my head while studying another headline about Bill.
“The window,” he repeated and carefully tucked his hand under my chin. With a tender nudge, he directed my eyes towards the bay windows. Bright sun shone through the glass. The sky was clear and blue enough to feel like a Florida ocean. The orange and red leaves on the tree brushed back and forth in the light wind. It looked inviting.
“Let’s enjoy it,” He offered me his hand.
A small whine escaped my lips as I glanced from my computer to the window. “I really should work. This is going to help fix things.”
He shook his head and held his mouth in a firm line. “I want you to relax. For at least for a few hours. You can finish up what you’re working on later. Come help me pick out paint.”
“Paint?” What was he going on about?
“In town. My parents wanted me to get the house ready for the summer. I’m letting the painters in on Monday,” he explained. “I was supposed to pick out a color after the game but as you know, things got complicated.”
“Do you really want to worry about paint right now? We’re on a clock.”
He nodded with a small smile. “I’m always on a clock. I’m choosing to stop it for today before it’s too late. Join me. Let’s be here in every sense of the word.”
I wanted to argue. Something in his eyes made me do the opposite. He wiggled his eyebrows, excited when I closed my laptop. I laughed, knowing that my choice, even if it wasn’t wise, was the right one.
“Don’t think this will deter me,” I promised him. “This is just a break. We need breakfast anyway.”
“Perfect.” He grinned and gave me a quick kiss on my temple. “I know the best spot.”
Chapter 35
I keptmy newfound knowledge about Weston’s Fairfield lie to myself. I needed an opening and didn’t think navigating through aisles in Home Depot allowed for the best setup. Besides, he was in a good mood. I thought I’d seen him happy. There were levels to joy. The one he exhibited on campus was just level one.
On the ride over, he’d turned on a playlist and sung along without holding back. He grinned over at me whenever I laughed at his failed attempts to reach the high notes. The windows were rolled down as he serenaded me. He kept a hand outside, catching the wind like he’d be able to hold on to it in his grasp for more than a second. Like usual, he drove fast. Except this time, he wasn’t as wild. He used his indicator and looked proud when I voiced the change.
“I want you to feel safe,” he explained.
I beamed. “I appreciate it.”
My words earned me a kiss on the knuckles. He teasingly stuck out the tip of his tongue on my skin. I yelped, giggled, and tried to pull away. He laughed, letting me go after one more lick.
When we got to the store, Weston got distracted by the light aisle. He muttered to himself about getting a couple of lamps for the living room and asked my opinion on a few selections. After a good ten minutes, I reeled him in, reminding him of our original purpose.
“Are you sure?” I asked him once we were in the paint section.
Weston was holding the ugliest shade of yellow in one hand and the loudest shade of red in the other.
“What do you think when you look at them?” He questioned as he waved the color samples in the air like flags.
“I think about puke,” I told him honestly while wrinkling my nose.
“Puke,” he said. I could practically see the light bulb go off in his head.
He turned to a small woman with a Home Depot vest passing by us. She had a headful of gray curls and wore a pin that read, ‘Ask Me Anything!’ Her Spanish accent was thick when she greeted us. She immediately started gushing over Weston when he spoke. She told him he looked like one of her lovers from the summers she spent in Brazil years ago.
