“A lot of construction is.” I walk over and take the hammer, lean it against a section of wall that’s still intact. “C’mon, time to have something to eat and drink.”
“Oh, I need to wash up first.”
“Only your hands.” I smile and drag a fingertip down her cheek. “Maybe your face.”
“After we eat, can I help take more of the wall down?” She lifts her protective goggles off, glances around for somewhere to put them.
Reaching out, I take them from her. “Yes. We can hack at it all night if that’s what you want.”
“I’d at least like to get enough of it down to see through to the other room.” She eyes the wall. “Will you just open it all and make one big room, or will you do some kind of archway or opening?”
“What would you do?” I ask as I place a hand on her lower back and urge her toward the door.
“I’m not sure.” Spinning on her heel, she asks, “Can I see the rest of the house?”
“You bet. But first”—I place my hands on her shoulders and turn her toward the door again. “Let’s eat. I always think better on a full stomach.”
“I’m not—” Her stomach growls so loudly it echoes around us and I choke back a laugh. “Oh. Well. I guess I could eat,” she corrects with a sheepish smile and a hand to her belly.
“By the sounds of things, the snack platter I’ve prepared might not be enough.”
“I’m sure it is.” She finally takes a few steps and I follow her. Make sure she isn’t going to change direction or reverse. “I haven’t eaten all day but?—”
“What?” I grip her elbow and pull her to a stop. “You haven’t eaten today?”
“No.” She glances over her shoulder. “I was nervous and honestly, having second thoughts about getting married.”
“And you didn’t think that was a sign you shouldn’t be doing it?”
“Oh, no, I knew the anxiety was more than general wedding jitters.”
I wait for her to continue, except she doesn’t. Instead I get a smile before she faces forward and leaves me behind.
Quickening my strides, I catch up to her and grab her elbow again, steer her toward the kitchen. “Would you have gone through with it if you hadn’t heard what you did?”
“I’d like to think I wouldn’t, but I can’t be sure.”
I push open the swinging door into the kitchen and usher her through.
“Oh, Devon. This is gorgeous.”
Smiling, I scan the room. “Yeah, the black appliances really pop against the cream cupboards and birch countertops.”
“I would never have gone with black.”
I follow her deeper into the room, around the island where our food is laid out, to the black range. The oven is the center ofthis wall and I worried it would overpower the space, but with the size of the room and the wall of windows facing the backyard, there’s enough light to counteract that.
“I would kill for this oven,” she murmurs while running a fingertip on the edge above the controls.
“Feel free to use it whenever.”
Her gaze darts to mine. “I’m not exactly in a state to cook.”
“I don’t mean tonight.”
7
ELIZABETH
