With me mainly using it for emails, I hadn't even thought to grab it on the day. I thought it'd be okay on the top of the bookcase.
The ruined laptop and paperwork are upsetting, but the desk was granddad's last creation before he died. There isn't a chance I'll let it sit here and rot like my old man.
After yanking all the drawers free and tipping the water out, I drag the carcass out onto the back porch, standing the drawers on end next to it.
The first step is having the desk dry enough to work on. Short of another flood, it'll be dry in a week or two.
My thoughts mired with the idea the insurance company might reject my claim, I drive over to Kelly's place. The one advantage is that I don't have a mortgage. That's thanks to my renovating beat-up thrift store furniture from when I was old enough to hold a scrap of sandpaper.
Even without a mortgage, if my insurance company rejects my claim, it'll be the same as starting from scratch, with me having to fund any repairs myself. It's something I'll need to share with Kelly. While it's okay to stay with her short term, my moving in for the next six months to a year is a different story.
I'm not sure it's one she'll be on board with, and it's way too early for us to be thinking about moving in together. It's an idea that brings me, and my truck, to a standstill, much to the horror of the guy tailgating me. He'd stopped in time, but only just, with me having to inch forward so he can swing around me, before roaring off down the road.
Perhaps I need to consider moving back in with my folks. It doesn't appeal, though. My mom has enough to deal with taking care of my dad without me cluttering up the place. I'd rather be there when she needs my help than be living there twenty-four-seven.
I've made no decisions when I pull into the driveway at Kelly's place. A sense of homecoming washes over me, meaning it'll be that much harder when she tells me I need to find somewhere else.
My other option is to keep quiet until I've spoken to the insurance company. I could be panicking for no reason.
Any thoughts of my insurance claim flee the moment I open the front door and find Kelly waiting for me, with a beer in hand.
However, that's not what catches my eye.
That would be my gorgeous girl wearing a frilly apron in a visage of 1950s domesticity. And I keep thinking this right until she turns and disappears back to the kitchen.
The pink bow of the apron is all that covers her peach of an ass, the ribbons kissing those globes in an invitation to hurry if I'm hungry. Sheesh, I'm ready to eat, alright, licking my lips as I follow her into the kitchen.
