Of course they do.
Andrea waves behind the cameraman set up in the doorway for us to begin. I straighten my shoulders and put on myshow timeready smile.
“Our mission today is to tackle this.” I gesture behind me while talking to the camera. “As you can see, it’s small. It’s not your average primary bathroom, but it has potential. I want to replace the double sink with a single sink to give it a little more space.”
“Or we can remove the tub,” Tucker says.
I turn to face him, hands on my hips. “We’re not removing it.”
“It’s cracked.”
“It has character.”
“It’s unnecessary.”
“It’s vintage.”
He doesn’t argue back. We both just stare at each other. His expression is unreadable, while mine is clearly annoyed.
After what feels like minutes, I face the camera again. “The pink clawfoot tub is staying,” I say with conviction, kneeling beside the vintage porcelain tub. It’s the one bright thing in this Barbie nightmare of pink tile. “It may be stained with age and cracked, but it’s beautiful. A thing worth saving,” I say, running my fingers along the edge.
I almost laugh at the irony. I don’t even know what’s worth saving in this house because I don’t remember anything here. I don’t know if this tub mattered to my grandmother the way it seems to matter to me. Would she have fought to keep it, too?
Tucker crouches next to me, shoulder brushing mine. An accidental touch that feels anything but accidental. He glances at the camera crew, at the way they’re laser-focused on us, waiting for the sparks.
And then he leans in closer, dropping his voice low. “A beautiful thing worth saving.”
I snap my head to face him, putting his mouth a breath away from mine. I suck in a sharp breath, and his lips curve into a smile. My heart picking this moment to forget how to behave.
Andrea makes a pleased sound. “Perfect, keep that energy.”
Tucker does. Shifting his weight just enough that his jeans brush my thigh. The tools on his belt clink against the tub, and the scent of cedar and soap wraps around me like something I’d lean into if I were brave enough.
This is all for the show. This is all fake, Scottie,I remind myself.
I stand up, putting distance between us. “Let’s start with pulling out this double sink, and then we can start the demolition on the tile from the wall behind this tub,” I say, pointing at the tile.
Tucker opens his mouth to respond, but a loud voice from the hallway pulls our attention.
“Did someone say demolition?”
Nan marches through the doorway wearing steel-toe work boots that look older than her, denim overalls stained with what Iprayis paint, and a red bandana tied around her head like she’s leading a rebellion. But what really makes my eyes widen is the sledgehammer over her shoulder. It’s so big that I’m genuinely concerned for the structural integrity of the whole town.
Nan grins. “So, what wall needs to die first?”
“Nan…” I start.
She waves me off. “Don’t you worry about me. I signed a waiver once. Somewhere.”
Tucker chokes on a laugh. “Nan, this is kind of a controlled job site.”
“Oh, my sweet Tucker,” she says, walking over to him and patting his cheek with her free hand. “The only thing controlled in this town is my blood pressure medication, and eventhat’squestionable some days.”
She adjusts the sledgehammer on her shoulder. “Now, stepaside. I’ve been itchin’ to knock down a wall since my lawyer back in the day told me I wasn’t allowed.”
I stare at her—blinking.
Is this really happening?I have to be dreaming.
