His bear bristled.Yesterday, she wanted them stained to match the doorframes. She was specific about the warm honey color she’d chosen. Now she wants to skip it?
Spencer frowned slightly. “The clear won’t give them the depth we talked about. They’ll look unfinished next to the other woodwork.”
“They’ll be functional,” Meryl replied, already moving toward the wall with the measuring tape. “That’s what matters.”
He watched her measure the wall brackets again, her movements more efficient now, less careful. The gentle precision she’d shown when they’d picked out the salvage pieces had vanished.
Tell her,his bear urged.Tell her she’s your mate. Tell her what she means to us.
Not like this,Spencer thought firmly.
“Let’s hang the first one,” Meryl said, gesturing for him to help position the shelf.
They worked together as they had before, but the rhythm had changed. When Spencer suggested rechecking the level before screwing in the bracket, Meryl shook her head.
“It’s close enough,” she said. “No one’s going to notice a quarter-inch difference.”
We would notice,his bear growled.She would have noticed yesterday.
Spencer held the shelf steady while she attached it. “Taking the extra minute to level it properly isn’t going to slow us down that much.”
“We’ve got a lot to finish,” she countered, already reaching for the screwdriver.
When the first shelf was up, Spencer stepped back to look at it. The angle was subtle but unmistakable—the shelf tilted slightly downward on the left side. Not enough to make anything slide off, but enough that it would always catch his eye. Enough that it would bother her, too, he was certain, once she wasn’t so focused on getting it done.
She’s rushing now,his bear said.She’s cutting corners because she’s already planning her escape.
“The next one should go about sixteen inches above,” Meryl said, already marking the wall without pausing to really consider the spacing.
Spencer stepped closer. “Meryl.”
She looked up, pencil poised against the plaster. “What?”
“The shelf isn’t level.”
Her gaze flicked to the installed shelf, then back to the wall. “It’s fine. It’ll hold books just fine.”
“That’s not the point.” Spencer kept his tone even. “Yesterday you would’ve taken it down and done it again.”
Something flickered across her face—recognition, maybe even guilt—before her expression smoothed again. “Yesterday we weren’t on a tighter schedule.”
“And today we are?”
“Yes.” She turned back to the wall. “I need to get things wrapped up here.”
She didn’t say it was because of the job offer, but she didn’t have to. The words hung in the air between them anyway.
His bear paced anxiously inside him.This is happening too fast. She’s slipping away right in front of us.
Spencer watched as Meryl measured for the next bracket, her movements quick and efficient. Not careless, exactly, but without the care she’d shown before. Without the sense that Pine Cottage deserved her best work.
“What if we do the rest tomorrow?” he suggested. “Give ourselves time to do them right.”
“There’s no reason we can’t finish today,” she said without looking up. “They’re just shelves, Spencer. They don’t need to be perfect.”
Just shelves. They’re not just shelves,his bear snarled.
“What about doing it the way we planned?” Spencer asked.
