Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“I like crime shows too, by the way. Every Friday night I watch Dateline because they feature—”
“Real-life mysteries,” I supplied, being all too familiar with the show.
Marcus smiled. “Yep. Carmen liked to read, so she’d leave me to it.”
“Same with Rebecca,” I mused. “Though she’d look up from her book from time to time to add one comment or another.”
He chuckled. “They might’ve made good friends.”
“You might be right,” I said as Marcus stood and began collecting our bowls. “Hey, you don’t have to do that.”
“Of course I do. You invited me over, and you cooked.” Marcus brought our dishes to the sink. “We had a thing in our house—whoever made the meal didn’t have to do the dishes. And before you complain, I like to wash dishes by hand.”
“Okay, fine.” When I sat back down, it was like taking a load off, which was such an unexpected sensation. Like I’d been running on all cylinders for the past couple of years. Still, it was a foreign feeling, and I needed to do something with my hands. “I’ll pull up the website for the power company to see if there are any updates in your area.”
“Good idea.” He turned the faucet on and reached for the sponge.
“It looks like your area is still down,” I said once I’d punched in his zip code. “But they have an alert system now. If I key your number in, they’ll send a text alert when your electricity has been restored.”
“Sounds good,” Marcus said absently, and when I looked up, he was staring at the wall beside the dishwasher. “Are these paint samples?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “We’d planned to update the kitchen, but then the worst happened, and I just couldn’t, though it definitely needs it.”
“Understandable.” Marcus reached for a towel to dry his hands. “What was your vision?”
“To paint the walls, maybe save money by refinishing the cabinets.” I pulled out a large Tupperware container to store the soup leftovers. “Rebecca wanted a large kitchen island to replace this table.” I slid the container of soup on a shelf in the refrigerator.
“Why not let me help?” He poured water into the pot to let it soak.
“How so?”
“Your cabinets. In case you didn’t notice, I own a business where I’ve gotten pretty good with refurbishing old stuff.” He threw me a pointed look, and my face heated. I felt like a dope as he stood back and scoped out the space. “I also have the perfect cabinet you could use as a kitchen island. It’s been in my shop collecting dust for years, and I’ve been looking for a good home for it.”
“I couldn’t…” I sputtered, feeling overwhelmed by the offer. “Besides, when would you have time?”
“I dunno, weekends? What else do I have going on? Okay, that made me sound pathetic. You know what I mean.”
I nodded because I absolutely did. Staying busy, hoping that it somehow helped fill up the hole in your heart.
“Sorry,” Marcus said, “not trying to overstep. It was only an idea. Just ignore me.”
“No way. Now you’ve got me thinking.” I looked more closely at the paint colors I’d tried on the walls. Rebecca hadn’t liked any of them. “I’d pay you, of course.”
“You could pay for the materials, but otherwise, I’d actually enjoy it.” He cleared his throat and stepped back as if he’d gone in too hard on the idea. “Talk it over with Grant. It’s just…these older homes need to be preserved. My grandpa used to like this quote that went something like, Our future relies on preserving our past. And I like to think that applies to restoring old things too.”
“I like that. I feel guilty that I haven’t gotten around to it. Not that I’d be any good, except with the electrical.”
“Hey, that’s absolutely something I’d never be able to solve,” he pointed out. “And we both know that when life throws you shitty curveballs, you have to readjust your plans.”
“True,” I admitted. “Even if it takes us a while.”
Our eyes met and held for a brief moment, and it felt so damned good to be around someone who really got it.
“It looks like another storm is rolling through,” Marcus said, glancing out the window. “Any chance we can head to your porch? I love sitting on mine when it rains, and yours looks way cozier.”
“A man after my own heart,” I said, and his eyes lit up. I opened the fridge and grabbed two beers. “Let’s go.”
It felt peaceful out on the porch as we watched the clouds pour water on the world around us. The cool air felt good, and so did the cold beers going down. I tried to stifle a yawn. I was tired, but I also didn’t want him to feel like he was imposing.
The truth was, I was enjoying myself. We didn’t have many guests outside of family, and ever since Rebecca passed, it felt awkward around the married couples we’d hung out with. Besides, they were mostly Rebecca’s work friends from her real-estate office. Not that they hadn’t been gracious and extended invitations, but I just couldn’t bear to be around all that…togetherness.