Rusty Nailed (27 page)

Suddenly the crappy day disappeared. I couldn’t wait to get inside and make the sweet sweet love. And the nasty dirty love. And everything in between.

I opened the front door, looking past the mauve wallpaper and the Pepto pink carpet and the dingy baseboards and the fingerprinted doorjambs and all of our boxes, and saw my boyfriend. Tall and handsome, strong and lean. He turned when I came in, and shot me a devilish grin.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey, yourself,” I answered back. I dropped my bags and started to walk across all that pink toward him.

“I waited to order some dinner till you got here. How does Thai sound to you?”

“Sounds great, you big, hot homeowner, you,” I purred, and he looked up from his take-out menus. He grinned as he watched me walk toward him, so I threw an extra bounce into my step.

“What’s got into you?”

“Nothing. Not yet, at least.” I winked. “Now, where’s that blow-up bed? Let’s christen this pile of bricks.”

I pulled him into me and kissed him deeply, winding my hands into his hair. He responded immediately, kissing me back urgently. I kissed along his jaw, along his cheekbones, drawing my tongue along his skin right where his neck met his shoulder. He always tasted amazing there.

He groaned into my ear. “Shit. I forgot to get the blow-up bed.”

“Whuh?” I said, my mouth full of neck and shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry. I was so busy with everything this afternoon, it totally slipped my mind.”

I pulled back and pulled my tongue back into my mouth. “So where are we going to sleep—aghh!” I danced away; something furry had brushed up against my legs. “What the hell was that?”

My mind instantly conjured a task force of mice determined to take the house back from the invading humans.

But it wasn’t mice. It was Clive. Wide eyed and bushy tailed. Now weaving himself in and out of my legs, saying hello to Mommy. I looked at him, then back up to Simon. Who had the decency to look the tiniest bit guilty.

“I couldn’t leave him there; they called him Clyde!”

It took me 120 seconds to fly around the house, closing each and every door to each and every room that had not been kitty proofed. And then another sixty seconds to unclench my fingernails from the inside of my palms.

I returned to the living room. Simon was showing Clive the coat closet.

“I can’t believe you, Simon,” I huffed, pushing past him to grab my bag from where I’d dropped it by the front door.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that big a deal.”

I whirled on him. “It
is
a big deal when this is something we’d already agreed on. I don’t have time tonight to run around
this huge fucking house and make sure there’s nothing he can get into.”

“I think you might be overreacting here a little. He’s probably going to stick pretty close to us tonight. He’ll snuggle up just like he always does and—”

“Snuggle up with us where, Simon? In the blow-up bed we don’t have? Where the hell are we supposed to sleep tonight?”

Clive wisely retreated to the dining room, where he pretended to explore the window seat. He was totally listening to us.

“I forgot! It’s not the end of the world; I’ll run out and get one. No big deal,” he snapped, grabbing his jacket and starting for the door. I stepped into his way to stop him when I heard a rattling of glass. I turned around and saw Clive, halfway out the big window over the window seat.

“Clive!” I shouted, and he froze, half in and half out. I snatched him up and held him close, Simon right behind me. The original casement windows were rusty, covered in years of old putty, and had no screens. Simon jiggled the window, finally got it shut, and turned back to face me.

Tears were running down my face. Clive was like my child. And like any mother who just saw her child go halfway through a window, I was half scared, half furious, and totally relieved. Clive was an indoor cat through and through; he’d never been outside a day in his life. He’d only seen streets from the comfort and safety of a window ledge. With a
real
window between him and the streets—not this rickety death trap.

“I’m so sorry,” Simon said, and I nodded. I hugged Clive so tightly he squeaked.

“Where’s his carrier?” I asked.

“I’ll get it,” he answered, and left the room.

I looked down at my cat, who turned in my arms to look up at me. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?” I warned, stroking his
silky fur. He put a paw over my mouth. I kissed it, smiling down at him. When Simon came back with the carrier, my smile faded.

“I’m going to run him over to the pet place, okay?” I said quietly, nudging him into his carrier.

He nodded. “I’ll go buy one of those blow-up beds.”

I started for the door. “Do you have my key? In case I get back before you do?”

“Oh, sure—here it is,” he said, pulling a new key chain from his back pocket and handing me a key. I took it.

This didn’t have quite the ceremony that I thought it might.

I left with my cat.

•  •  •

I
checked Clive in to his hotel, bought at least a dozen I’m-sorry catnip mice, and left after he was passed out on a pillow watching
Lion King
. As I drove back home, thoughts flew in and out of my head almost faster than I could process. Emotions too many to count. I was pissed, no doubt about it. About the bed? Yes. About Clive almost going out the window? Yes.

But there was more going on than just that; shit that I couldn’t even begin to ponder. Too tired to ponder this pickle, I winced once more as the car door squeaked, then plodded up the walk. I was exhausted, I was starving, and more than that, I felt terrible that this very exciting day had been turned into a crapshow.

I pushed open the door and found the biggest blow-up bed that had ever been created smack dab in the middle of the living room. Made up with sheets and blankets and mounds and mounds of pillows. And next to that? A table made out of a box covered with a furniture pad. And next to that? Two bags full of take-out Thai and a six-pack of beer cooling in a mop bucket full of ice.

And next to that? Simon. Sitting on the end of the bed. Which
was very low to the ground. And quite squishy. So when he tried to stand? Not so much.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek as my very good looking and oh-so-athletic boyfriend struggled to stand up straight, and when he did? He was beet red.

“I got the bed,” he said quietly.

“I see that.”

“It’s pretty low.”

“It would seem.”

He came and stood in front of me, his body tense. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“I know.” I smoothed his hair back from his face and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry too.”

“Can I have that key back?”

“Already?” I asked.

“Gimme it,” he muttered, one corner of his mouth lifting.

I looked at him curiously, but handed it back to him. He looked at it carefully, then back at me.

“I’ve never lived with anyone. You know that, right?”

I nodded.

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. Then he opened my hand and placed the key back in the middle of it. Closing my hand over it, he smiled. “Welcome home, babe.”

I smiled back and let him pull me into a slow and tentative kiss. This was better.

•  •  •

W
e ate dinner sitting cross-legged on the inflatable bed, which proved more difficult than I’d thought. First on the list, get some chairs over here pronto.

After dinner we walked from room to room, talking about what might go here, and what might go there. We had a pretty
good idea of where we wanted everything, but there was nothing like walking through it together and making plans. When he said he’d never lived with anyone before, he wasn’t the only one. I’d had roommates, but never lived with a boyfriend.

Until now Simon and I had been very much together, but still very much our own entities. That had changed now. I was “living with someone.” If someone asked, “Hey, is that Caroline seeing anyone?” the answer would be, “Oh yeah, she and her boyfriend are living together,” or, “Yep, she and her boyfriend just bought a house together.” We were taking a very big step here, but a step I was glad we were taking.

And as we walked through our new home, room by room, I began to dream a little. I’d always seen myself in a big house like this someday, but never thought it would happen so quickly. I could always see past the things that needed to be changed, but now that I was in here, and the space was really and truly ours, I could
feel
the house. Feel what it had been, and what would be again for us.

A home. And isn’t that exciting? And a little scary.

When we finally made it to the master bedroom, I asked why we weren’t staying in there tonight.

“No lights; all the bulbs are burned out. I’ll get some tomorrow,” Simon answered, tugging me toward the window. The moonlight came through the glass, illuminating the room with the barest hint of blue. He sat on the window seat, pulling me onto his lap. “Where do you think we should put our bed?” he asked, nuzzling my neck.

“Our blow-up bed?”

“No, our new bed. You’re getting us a new bed, right?”

“New house, new bed. That sounds fair. I was thinking right there.” I pointed to the opposite wall. “Then when we wake up, we can see the bay. The light in the morning will be fantastic.”

“We might even be able to see the city,” he mused, resting his head on my shoulder.

“When it’s not foggy, for sure.” I sighed, finally feeling the weight of the day beginning to fall away.

“Did I tell you I had the cleaning crew pay extra-special attention to the claw-foot tub?” he asked.

The one thing he’d managed to do right that day was get a cleaning crew in to scour the place top to bottom as soon as the key was officially in his hands. We might be tearing half the stuff out of this house, but by God, it’d be clean stuff.

“Shut up.”

“If I did, you wouldn’t hear the best part,” he teased.

“Hit me, Wallbanger.”

“When I went out to get the bed? I also bought you some Mr. Bubble.”

“Shut
up
.”

“If I did, you’ll never hear the bestest part.”

“Bestest?”

“Yes. The bestest part is that I’m going to take a bubble bath with you. And not because I’m planning on seducing you, which I’ll try. And not because you’ll need help washing your back, which I’ll offer to do. But for a very specific reason,” he said, getting up and pulling me toward the bathroom.

“To see me naked?”

“That’s just a bonus. The real reason is that the lightbulbs are burned out in here too, and I know you’d get totally spooked if you had to stay here by yourself in the dark.” He grinned as we entered the bathroom.

“You do know me well,” I agreed.

From a bag in the corner, he pulled out a package of tea lights and a box of matches. “Practical bathing with a side of romance.”

I laughed out loud. And took a bath with Mr. Bubble and Mr. Parker in that very tub. Heaven. And I thought
I
was the practical romantic.

An hour later, I was camping on the floor of my new living
room on a blow-up bed with my new roomie. I was relaxed; my limbs were limp and noodley. And when Simon slid into me to christen this first of many rooms, I allowed myself to be swept away.

Except I wasn’t. He tried everything he could to sweep me away, but there was no sweeping.

But it was still wonderful and warm and delicious, and the perfect way to end such an up-and-down day.

“No?” Simon asked as he panted into my ear, his body slick on top of me.

I stroked his back as I shook my head, feeling him finally relax into me. “I love you, Simon,” I whispered. “So much.”

He rolled us so I could lie in his nook, where the rise and fall of his chest lulled me. “Love you too, babe,” he whispered back, holding me close.

And as I slipped toward sleep, listening to all the unfamiliar sounds of our new home, I took a quick inventory. O was still in there, just a little skittish tonight.

All was good in the new neighborhood.

chapter eighteen

I sat in my office, rearranging the piles of paper on my desk once more. Lining up the edges, positioning the folders so that they were at perfect right angles with the side of the desk. I inspected and removed three petals from the roses in the vase, goldenrod shot through with the palest of pink.

Jillian was due in any moment.

As Simon and I spent our first weekend in
our
new home, she and Benjamin spent it readjusting in
theirs
after their lengthy absence. She’d texted me to let me know they were home, and we agreed to meet at work on Monday. I was handing back the keys to the kingdom.

I’d loved playing Jillian for a few months. It’d been longer than I’d planned, but I’d gotten a taste of what life might be like a few years down the road. I had always seen myself as part of a larger team, and my normal role was exactly what I wanted. I’d handled the additional responsibility well, but was I at heart a manager? No. Did I want to run a business, or just create beautiful and enchanting places that a business or family might want to inhabit?

I was a designer. And I wanted to keep on being a designer. So the keys would be given back, she’d tell me what a brilliant job
I’d done, she wouldn’t be able to resist busting my balls about the third-floor carpet
no matter
that she knew it wasn’t my fault, and then everything would go back to normal.

Yes? Yes.

I heard her before I saw her. That voice that could make you quake or dance. I was hoping for dancing.

“Where is that girl? Where’s that Caroline?” I heard as she came closer to my office door. I grinned, moving out from behind my desk and approaching the door.

She breezed in, suntanned, healthy, and radiant. She literally glowed.

“What’s up, boss lady?” I asked, and she pulled me into a tight hug.

“Good to you see you, kiddo.” She moved me back out to arm’s length and looked me over. “You look tired. And I have just the cure.” She handed me a huge bag.