by S. K. Lessly
I bowed slightly at him. “Thank you, kemosabe.”
He chuckled. “The cabinets and countertops are in need of a bit of updating.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’ll have to wait for most of that. Baby steps you know. Come with me. Let me show you upstairs.”
I moved to the steps that set off the right of the living room. There was a small staircase leading up to the second floor. My bedroom, bathroom, and office were positioned above the garage.
I directed him to my bedroom and stepped inside, signaling him to follow. Once he was in my space, I immediately got nervous, especially when I looked over at my bed. I turned quickly from the memories and temptations and looked at him. Paul’s back was to me, but I noticed the stiffness in his back as he stood next to me. His eyes roamed the room, looking everywhere but the bed too. Maybe he too was a bit nervous. He kept his hands inside the pockets of his work jeans, admiring my curtains and walls. I cleared my throat and broke the awkwardness between us.
“Okay, I thought it would be a great idea to turn upstairs into a master bedroom oasis. There is another bedroom on the other side of the bathroom. The room is too small to be anything else but an office. I don’t need an office. I work better in the living room in front of the TV. So, I want to—"
“Turn the spare bedroom into a walk-in closet?” he cut in smiling at me.
My eyes grew wide. “How did you know?”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen your closet at the other house, remember? You could barely pull clothes out of it to wear.”
I scoffed and waved him off. “That wasn’t me. That was Sebastian.”
“I only saw your clothes in that cramped closet.” He countered smiling. “Also, didn’t you have clothes hanging up in the other bedroom?”
“Uh, yes. So… about the renovations…” I cut in quickly, which earned me a dimple-filled smile that had my insides turning to jelly. I cleared my throat again. “There is a small bathroom downstairs, which is good for me. This bathroom could just be mine, you know?”
Paul nodded and circled the room. He then walked inside my bathroom, looked around and stepped back out.
“You have a solid plan. However, it’s going to cost you. The upgrades you want wouldn’t be hard to do. You have the foundation already here. You just need to knock down a few walls, paint, and some updating on wires and plumbing. How much did you pay for this house, if you don’t mind me asking?”
I smiled and walked closer to him. “About two hundred and fifty thousand.”
His eyebrows rose, as I knew they would. “Are you kidding me? The houses in this area are at least three hundred to three-fifty.
“Yeah, I know.” I smiled knowing that I had a gold mine.
“Did the owners say why they sold it so low?”
“Yes. His wife left him for her workout instructor.” I shrugged. “She left him with a house he never wanted in a city that he hated. I asked if I could rent to own or something and he asked what I could afford. I told him, and he said the house was mine.”
“Do you know how much this house is worth?”
I nodded. “Yes, I do. I figured when I’m ready I could refinance for the full amount the house is worth and have a substantial amount of money to work with— at least a hundred thousand.”
Paul shook his head.
“We won’t need that much. You remember John from my firehouse? Well he used to be an architect. I’m sure he would be happy to draw some specs based off of what you want, and we can get some people in here for less than what you think.”
I smiled broadly at him. “We?”
He looked at me confused at first then smiled at me. Again, with those damn panty-melting dimples. “Come on. You know I can’t let you do this by yourself.”
“Thanks, Paul. I really appreciate it,” I replied quietly.
“No problem at all,” he countered his voice just as low as mine. We stared at each other for a second longer than we should, especially since we were right next to my bed, the same bed that we christened a few months ago.
I could see his eyes darken just a fraction before he blinked and looked away from me.
“So, why don’t we get started on the floors downstairs? Show me the flooring you bought.”
I nodded and led him downstairs to the kitchen. The boxes were stacked up against the wall in the living room. Paul knelt, pulled out a pocketknife, and opened the first box. He touched the smooth dark wood and looked up at me.
“This really looks good. You have a good quality laminate wood flooring here. It’ll look just like real wood, and it looks like your floorboards look good too.” He stood and looked down at me. “I assume there was carpet in the living room before?”
I frowned remembering the nasty old ass carpet that I had to take up.
“Man, the carpet was hideous. I Googled how to properly pull up the carpet, and I laid the rubber under pad down to protect the subfloor when I was done.”
“And I am grateful you did that. It will save us some time. Let me grab my laminate cutter, and we can get started.”
“Awesome!” I couldn’t help the excitement surging through me. “Can I help with something?”
“Hell yes, woman! You’re helping with everything.” I squealed with glee, and he laughed at me then disappeared out of the front door.
* * *
For the remainder of the day, we worked side by side putting down the flooring. He showed me the proper way to lay the panels down and the importance of leaving an appropriate amount of spacing between the wall and the planks themselves.
It was hard work, but easy at the same time. We talked while we worked, asking the basic and safe questions like how was work, family, etc. He seemed nervous as he talked to me, but I didn’t mention it. I was just glad we were speaking to each other. Music blared from my portable speaker to fill in the natural silence that came over us both from time to time. We worked fast in my opinion and got done with both rooms by eleven at night.
“Oh my goodness, Paul.” I touched his arm and squeezed. “This looks amazing.”
“Yeah, it does. It goes great with the color on your walls too. Great choice.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the kitchen. “What about the unfinished floor in there? Are you good with finishing on your own or will Eugene be able to help you?”
I didn’t reply, which caused Paul to turn and face me.
“Lauren, you okay?
“Oh yeah, I’m fine, and no I will not be asking for his help. As a matter of fact, we are taking a much-deserved break.”
“Really? You finally broke up?”
“Uh, not quite.”
I took in a deep breath, let the air out slowly, and then told him what happened at the movie theater, minus me throwing up.
“The irony of it all, right?” I asked rhetorically then shook my head.
I was perched on my kitchen counter, and Paul was directly across from me leaning on the wall. His expression was completely unreadable, which made me a tad bit nervous. I shifted a little then ran my hand over my head.
“Well, anyway,” I added breaking the silence, “I didn’t want to break it off over the phone, so I just told him we needed a break. I felt weird doing it to begin with. Sometimes he can be creepy you know.”
“Creepy how?” Paul asked me, speaking finally. “Has he said or done anything to you?”
I shook my head. “Oh no, nothing like that. It’s just… he looks at me in a weird way sometimes. I don’t know. It’s probably my over-reactive imagination too, so you really can't put any credence to my claims.”
Paul was about to respond when his phone vibrated. He pulled it out of a compartment on his utility belt. He glanced down at the screen and mumbled an apology before he walked inside the living room for privacy.
I had a feeling who it probably was, and I instantly felt sad. I have to stop beating myself up for the decision I made months ago. Maybe this was for the best, us not being together. Nevertheless
, every time I tell myself it was for the best, I keep going back to the same question. If that was the case, why did my heart hurt so badly?
Paul came back in the kitchen, a slight frown on his face. “Sorry about that.”
I waved him off. “It’s fine. No problem.”
“Listen, I need to get going. If you want, I can come back tomorrow and help you finish this floor?”
“Oh no. That’s okay. I’m going to do it myself.”
His eyebrows rose. “You sure?”
“Yup, I am.”
He chuckled. “What about your furniture? You need help moving it?”
I shook my head. “Nope, I’m good with that too. I don’t have much, and the furniture is light. Trust me.”
He placed his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. Give me a call if you need me for anything.”
“Yes, sir.” I gave him a mock salute.
I watched as he gathered up his cutting tool and walked out the front door. I locked the door behind him then rested my head against the door. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
The truth was, I would have loved for him to come back tomorrow to help me, but I didn’t want to take any more of his time. Besides, Bridgette was probably pissed that he was here with me. I knew I would be if I was Bridgette and my man was coming over an ex’s house to help her lay tile. I would've been like, why can’t she call freaking Lowes or Home Depot. But hey, maybe I was overstepping here. It was possible he didn’t tell her where he was going or who I was to him. I didn’t know if he told her about us. After all, it wasn’t like we were a couple, right?
I pushed off the door, opened it, and stepped on the porch. Paul’s truck was gone of course, but I still looked down the street as if he was going to turn around and come back to sweep me in his arms and kiss me silly. However, the streets were quiet and empty, well except for this car idling across the street from my house. It looked like a Honda, but I couldn’t see who was inside, the windows were tinted. I didn’t think anything of the car. I dismissed it immediately, thinking whoever was inside the small car was probably waiting for someone on the block. I shrugged and went back inside.
I started locking down the house when something occurred to me. I had seen that car before. I wasn’t sure when or if my mind was playing tricks on me. I stepped to the front window and moved the curtains to the side. I peered outside and found that the parking spot holding the Honda was empty. The Honda was gone.
I looked down the street both ways, but I didn’t see or hear anything.
“Oh well, so much for that.”
I shrugged my shoulders and finished closing up my house before I made my way upstairs to my bed.
That night I reminisced about all the ways Paul used to pleasure my body. I woke the next morning aching for him. I tried to get myself off to ease the tension in my body. However, it did nothing but make me want him more.
Oh, fuck my life!
7
Paul
“Hey, you two want another beer?” Samson called out, his face buried in his small fridge.
I gave Samson a grunt signaling yes while Tyler said, “Fuck yeah!”
We were sitting in Samson’s three-car garage, his unofficial man cave, on Christmas Eve. Yeah, I know. What a strange place to have a man cave, but he made it work. Besides the two cars occupying the two farthest spaces inside the garage, Samson had transformed the first car space into his place of Zen.
He filled the empty car space with three very comfortable lounge chairs with leg extensions that faced the back wall of the garage, nothing too fancy but purposeful. There were a few plastic tables between each of the chairs, and he mounted a forty-two-inch flat screen TV against the back wall, facing his seating area.
He also placed an apartment size refrigerator against the back wall of the garage, next to the TV and his workbench, which was always stocked with beer, wine, and soda— mainly beer. Again, it wasn’t an ideal place for a man cave, considering the thin material used to construct the garage, but it worked for him.
We had finished stuffing our faces with some of the best food ever about an hour ago and were now relaxing, sipping on some brews and getting in some male bonding. It was either escape the warm house or listen to the women inside gossip about which reality show had the best drama. I had my own drama to deal with, so I had no desire to listen to other people's shit.
In all honesty, I had debated heavily on coming tonight. I had no desire to see my ex-wife, nor did I want to see Sebastian, both were still friends with Melissa. Samson had assured me they weren’t coming. However, Melissa had invited some people from her job, and he wanted to have some familiar faces present to keep him sane. He also bribed Tyler and me to come over, promising to pop open his coveted bottle of scotch that the chief had given him last year for a Christmas present.
I started to turn him down. Bridgette was heading over to her family's place for the night, and I had been looking forward to a night alone. However, the promise of great scotch and good food quickly changed my mind. Samson had a bottle of Macallan single malt scotch ready and waiting, which was one of the best in the world and expensive. I would be stupid to pass up on the opportunity for my palate to bask in great tasting liquor. Plus, as I said there was food. What more could a man want?
Samson slumped onto the chair to my left and handed Tyler and me fresh bottles of Dos Equis. The large heater was turned on to full blast, and we huddled around it waiting for the heat to warm the otherwise frigid garage.
It was late in the night; most of the guests tonight had started making their way back home. Rain had started to fall, instead of snow, which was more of a blessing than a curse. It had reached to about forty-one degrees earlier today, mild compared to past Christmases. It turned colder as the sun set but was still above freezing. However, you could feel every bit of the thirty-seven-degree winds tonight through this thinly built structure. I was thankful for the heat as well as the couple of glasses of scotch that I had earlier. I was feeling mighty fine.
“So, how are things going with that Latin hottie of yours?” Tyler asked with a grin.
I paused and blinked a few times, contemplating on how to answer him and then took a swig of my beer, draining the last of it.
“It’s going, I guess,” I answered derisively. I placed the empty bottle down next to me then picked up the one that Samson just handed to me and opened it.
“What does that shit mean? Is it going good or not?” Tyler countered, and I really didn’t have an answer for him.
Things were going great with Bridgette and me. The woman was amazing. She was vibrant, energetic, and was a blast to hang out with. We’ve been taking our time getting to know each other. It’s been a few weeks, and we still hadn’t placed a label on what we were, which was good in my opinion because I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.
Samson placed his meaty palm on my shoulder and squeezed. “Give our boy a break. He’s still fucked up in the head about Lauren.”
I frowned and gave him a pointed look, but the guy on my right gasped loudly. “You and Lauren fucked around?”
With that question, both Samson and I looked over at Tyler.
He gaped at me then Samson; his jaw slacked, his eyebrows raised. “What? How was I supposed to know that?”
“Your wife and Lauren are thick as thieves. I would think she would have told you?” I said pointedly.
“For your information, my wife and I don’t gossip about you losers. She hadn't told me anything,” Tyler retorted.
Samson scoffed and waved him off. “That’s irrelevant. The shit was obvious as hell. I can't believe you didn’t notice them when we were over Paul’s house. They’d dip off for hours at a time then come back grinning from ear to ear,” Samson informed Tyler.
I grunted, flipping him off. “Please, we didn’t dip off for hours. You’re exaggerating.”
“Fuck you, yes you two did. You thought you were being slick. You didn’t think no
one was paying attention, that’s all.”
I pointed at Tyler. “Clearly he wasn’t paying attention,” I countered.
“Well, sunshine, I did. I noticed every single time.”
“That’s because you’re a nosy teenager.”
“Sticks and stones… the point being you two were obvious as hell if you were paying attention.”
Tyler took the rest of his beer down, grabbed the bottle opener from the table next to me, and opened another beer.
“Well, I guess I was slow as hell. Plus, I remembered we used to drink until we passed out. I wasn’t capabile of paying attention,” Tyler admitted then grinned broadly at me and pushed me in the shoulder. “Sooo… you and Lauren, huh? You got you a bit of chocolate, and now you’re hooked.”
“Hell yeah, he’s hooked,” Samson answered for me.
I shook my head and sipped on my brew.
“So, what happened between you two? Of course, you two aren’t messing around now. Was Lauren the reason why you broke it off with Sabrina? No, wait, let me rephrase that. Was Lauren the reason why you finally grew some balls and dropped Sabrina like you should have done years ago?”
I promptly gave Tyler the finger, and Samson laughed.
“Oh, that shit was well fucking said. I would say it was the latter.”
“Fuck both of you,” I retorted incredulously. “The answer to your question is no. Lauren wasn’t the reason why I broke up with Sabrina. As you remember, my doting wife cheated on me. Lauren had nothing to do with that.”
“Yeah, but you can’t say that there wasn’t something between you and Lauren before you found out that Sabrina stepped out on you,” Samson countered.
“The hell I can,” I replied tersely. “I never crossed that line with Lauren.”
“But you wanted to,” Samson added.
I sighed, drained my beer, and set the empty bottle next to my chair.
“Fine. Fuck yes, I wanted to. Every single day I wanted to. Can you blame me?”
Tyler grunted and shook his head. Samson said in a resounding voice, “Fuck no, we can’t.”
“I knew you weren’t the type to step out on Sabrina,” Tyler began, “but the chemistry you and Lauren had was off the charts. I even noticed that. You can’t deny it either. You two started finishing each other’s sentences not too long after you two met.”
