Domestic Do-over

by Kate McMurray

  Brandon laughed, because he couldn’t not. God, he missed Kayla. “It’s not exactly like that.”

  “I suppose not. But I will take this token of your affection and keep it close to my heart.”

  They chatted amiably as they finished their coffee; then Kayla walked him back to the house. “I’m gonna get a car and do a little shopping before I collect my luggage from the hotel and go to the airport. But this was great, Brandon, really. Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And send me photos of the place when it’s finished. I can’t wait to see how it looks in the end.”

  “I definitely will.”

  Kayla hugged Brandon, and he put his arms around her and leaned his head on hers. She kissed his cheek as she pulled away. He waited with her for another minute until her car pulled up.

  “I’ll see you, big guy,” she said as she opened the door. “Good luck with everything.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. You too. I want a wedding invitation.”

  “Of course, dearest.” She blew him a kiss and got in the car.

  He watched the cab drive down the street and felt a little sad, but also satisfied. It felt like a door to his past had closed.

  He took a deep breath and walked back into the house.

  MUDDING DRYWALL was a messy task, and also a boring one. Erik packed up his crew and left early for the day so that he could get some exterior shots from around the neighborhood before giving everyone the afternoon off.

  Mudding was the process of adding drywall compound to the joints, nail holes, and divots in the drywall to make the walls as even as possible. It would help the paint go on easier and make the walls look like one smooth surface rather than individual panels of drywall. Travis had put on an apron to do the job, because he was good at getting the drywall compound all over himself, and sure enough, the apron was covered in white blobs now.

  Brandon had been doing busywork tasks around the house, and Travis didn’t see him at all until the sun started to set.

  “Do me a favor?” Travis said when Brandon walked into the dining room where Travis was working.

  “Sure.”

  “Send Ismael and the evening crew home. Once I finish this wall, we’re done for the day. I’m gonna have the night crew start painting upstairs, but there’s not much we can do down here until all this dries.”

  “Sure.”

  Brandon disappeared for a few minutes. Once Ismael and the crew stomped through the house and left for the day, Brandon returned. “I had a thought about upstairs.”

  “All right.”

  “I was going to do carpet for budget reasons, but at this point, why not go whole hog? Let’s do hardwood up there.”

  Travis took a step up the ladder so he could smear compound over a divot close to the ceiling. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. At this point the budget is so blown, we might as well go for it. I hate carpet. I’d rather see hardwood.”

  “You’re saving some money by putting tile in in this room instead of wood, so that will mitigate some of the cost.”

  Brandon nodded. “I’ve decided I don’t want to make any compromises on this place. We’ve still got a little room before we get to the spending limit, so let’s just go for it.”

  Travis held his trowel away from the wall. “You’re not going to make me tear down walls now, are you? Because we just got these done.”

  Brandon laughed. “No. Keep everything we’ve already done. But the thought of putting carpet upstairs was starting to bother me.”

  “Then yeah, sure. You’re going to have to order more wood.”

  “No. I had this thought when Kayla and I were shopping. I ordered extra wood flooring in case I decided to do the second floor. I figured I could return whatever we didn’t use. I haven’t gotten around to ordering carpet, which tells me I’d really rather do hardwood.”

  “Okay.”

  Brandon shifted on his feet, a sign that he wanted to tell Travis something.

  Travis cleared his throat and asked, “So, how was your coffee date with Kayla this morning? She make her flight okay?”

  “Yeah, she texted me when she boarded the plane. She’s in the air right now. She, uh, took me to coffee to return her engagement ring.”

  Travis had to stop what he was doing again because he was so surprised, but he supposed it made a certain amount of sense. People returned rings when engagements ended. Why not marriages? He took a deep breath and went back to mudding.

  “We had a good talk,” Brandon said.

  “Good.” Travis pulled a scraper from his tool belt and smoothed over the work he’d just done before climbing off the ladder. “You feel okay?”

  Brandon nodded slowly. “I’m fine. It was… a little intense. But it was good.”

  Travis regarded Brandon carefully for a moment. They’d shared a lot with each other. After seeing them together, Travis understood that Brandon and Kayla were good friends, and their divorce really had wrecked something, even if they hadn’t ever been romantically involved.

  Travis wanted to ask if Brandon felt like he was moving forward, but he couldn’t figure out how without sounding like a therapist.

  “How’s all this going?” Brandon asked.

  “We’re basically done with the drywall on this floor.” Travis took the apron off and draped it over a folding chair so it would dry. “Hopefully the floors show up tomorrow like they’re supposed to so we can start putting those in.”

  “So it’s coming along.”

  “Yeah. We’re on schedule.”

  Brandon seemed a little distant, thoughtful.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Brandon smiled. “I am. A little sad, maybe. I really feel like an era ended today. But I needed that, I think. Closure on that part of my life. I need to… turn to the next chapter.”

  Travis nodded. He stopped to listen for a minute. Once he felt confident that everyone had vacated the house, he leaned over and ran a hand down Brandon’s arm. Brandon seemed to need a hug, so Travis pulled Brandon into his arms.

  Travis closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace as Brandon squeezed him a little tighter. They definitely had something going here, and if they were at the stage where they were sharing secrets, maybe they had some real intimacy. Travis hadn’t experienced this before, but the longer the show lasted, the more he could picture things working out with Brandon.

  Assuming he didn’t get himself fired.

  With that cheery thought, he backed off.

  “You want to have dinner with me?” Brandon asked.

  “Sure. Especially now that I’ve gotten bits of drywall on your shirt. Sorry about that.”

  “We could just go to my place and get something delivered.”

  “Solid compromise.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A FEW days later, Ismael suggested they start painting while they waited for the floors to be delivered. Erik got a bunch of shots of Brandon and Travis with paint rollers. Brandon could already picture this as part of an “adding the finishes” montage. Sometimes he still marveled at the way this show was being put together. Two months of work distilled into forty-two minutes.

  They were nearly done painting the first floor when the day shift ended. Ismael volunteered to stay behind to help finish, so Travis assigned him to the dining room while he and Brandon completed the living room.

  Travis was efficient with a paint roller, probably from having painted hundreds of walls. He seemed to be lost in some kind of painting zone, totally focused.

  Brandon had picked an off-white with a warm, yellowy undertone for this room, something neutral but still bright and happy. Travis hadn’t commented on it, so Brandon assumed that meant he liked it, but it was hard to know. Brandon quite liked how it was coming together. They’d paint the crown moldings, baseboards, window frames, and other trim bright white, all matte paint so it looked soft. That sunny color, contrasted with the dark hardwood, would be perfect.
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  “How are you feeling about the paint colors?” Brandon said, perhaps tempting fate.

  “They’re fine.”

  “Thanks for your unbridled enthusiasm.”

  Travis stopped what he was doing and took a step back. He put the roller down in the tray, then crossed the room to get the ladder. “It’s not gray.”

  Brandon rolled his eyes. “What would you prefer? Hot pink? Highlighter yellow? Electric blue?”

  Travis set up the ladder, clearly aiming to start painting the crown moldings on the section of wall where the paint had already dried. He poured white paint into a tray, grabbed a wide brush, and climbed the ladder.

  “You’re not gonna put up tape or anything?”

  “Nope. You’re gonna do the patchwork when I’m done, though.”

  Brandon watched for a moment as Travis expertly painted the molding, clearly experienced with this kind of thing. He painted all the molding within reach without dripping paint anywhere and managed to cover about three feet. Then he came back down and moved the ladder.

  “Are you going to just stand there gawking at me, or…?”

  Brandon shook his head. The wall was done and just the trim remained, so he set up a tray with white paint and prepared to start the baseboards. “Can I help it if I enjoy watching you work? And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “What question?”

  “You hate the paint colors, don’t you?”

  Travis sighed but didn’t miss a beat painting. “Honestly? I’d probably pick something similar. I’d punch up the colors in this room with the furniture.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “Because it means a lot if you approve.”

  Travis stopped what he was doing and stared at Brandon. “Why?”

  Brandon couldn’t exactly say because I want for us to live here together, so he said instead, “I value your opinion.”

  “It’s a nice color. Totally inoffensive.”

  Brandon laughed. “You know what? I’ll take it.”

  Travis went back to painting trim, grinning now. It warmed Brandon to know he could make Travis smile like that.

  Brandon knelt to paint the baseboard and started moving toward the ladder. When he could go no further, he stood up and saw Travis looking at him.

  “What?” asked Brandon.

  “Nothing. Well, I need to move the ladder, but you’re in the way.”

  That little smirk on Travis’s face was too much. Brandon stood up, lifted himself on his toes, and leaned close to Travis. Travis leaned down and met him in the middle. They kissed, and Brandon never wanted it to end. He loved the way their lips fit together, the way Travis tasted, the way Travis smelled. Travis threaded his fingers through Brandon’s hair and held him there by the back of his head.

  It was growing increasingly difficult for Brandon to keep his hands to himself on set. Some after-hours kissing soothed him a bit. But Brandon found he didn’t want to hide this relationship, or whatever this was, when they spent so much time together. The consequences of getting caught, though….

  He sighed into the kiss. Best to worry about that later.

  Then there was a bang, and Ismael shouted, “Hey, Trav! Can I—?” He walked in the room and stopped short. “Oh.”

  Travis jerked away from Brandon, making the ladder wobble, and stared at Ismael for a long moment.

  Brandon tried to find something to say, but in his panic, he couldn’t come up with anything.

  Travis said, “We were just—”

  “It’s fine,” Ismael said in his soft Puerto Rican accent. “I already knew about Travis. I just didn’t know Brandon was…. But it doesn’t matter. I just came to say I’m done in the dining room and I was gonna clock out for the day.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” Travis said, his voice shaky. “Brandon and I can finish the trim in here, and then we’ll do the feature wall in the family room tomorrow.” He glanced at Brandon, then turned to Ismael. “You won’t… say anything, will you? This thing… it’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I mean, not a word to anyone.”

  “Hey, boss, I can keep a secret. No big deal to me.”

  “All right. Thank you.”

  Brandon’s heart pounded and his veins were icy. Ismael was acting awfully casual about this. Would he really keep quiet? Had Brandon just done the very thing he’d blamed Kayla for doing? It had been so incredibly foolish to kiss Travis in the house when people were still around. Why had he done it?

  Travis came down off the ladder and rested a hand on Brandon’s arm. “It’s fine. It’s just Ismael. I trust him not to tell anyone. We’re fine.”

  “If anyone from the network found out….”

  “I know.” Travis stroked Brandon’s arm.

  “I swear I’ll keep my mouth shut,” said Ismael. “I understand what’s happening. Don’t worry.”

  “We’re good,” said Travis. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Ismael waved and left. Travis looked up at the unpainted molding, then glanced at Brandon. Travis took a deep breath. “You’re clearly flipping out. Why don’t you go on home? I’ll finish the trim and meet you there. Okay?”

  “If anyone finds out….”

  “I know. I trust Ismael, though. He’ll stay quiet. We’re fine, Brandon.”

  Brandon took several long breaths, trying to get a handle on his emotions. Maybe it would be okay, but this just demonstrated how precarious this situation was. Brandon felt like he’d lost control of the situation and didn’t know how to reconcile that.

  “Please calm down,” Travis said.

  “I’m trying. I’m sorry I’m freaking out.”

  “It’s fine. I understand. But freaking out is not getting this trim painted, and there’s nothing more we can do tonight.”

  Brandon took another deep breath. He was starting to calm down. Travis was right, there wasn’t much they could do that night. “All right. I’ll, uh, get some takeout. Maybe pick up banh mi from that place on Montague near my apartment. That sound good? Then by the time you’re done and get to my place, I’ll have dinner set up.”

  “Yeah, that sounds great. Get me whatever you’re having, but easy on the spices.” He walked over and wrapped his arms around Brandon, rubbing his back. “Please be okay.”

  “I am. I just… I freaked.”

  “I know. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

  Brandon sighed and rested his forehead on Travis’s shoulder. “You can’t promise that.”

  “Well, this at least will not be our undoing.”

  Brandon pulled away gently, then gave Travis a brief, soft kiss. “I’ll take that promise.”

  “Now get out of here so I can finish.”

  TRAVIS WAS losing the battle to stay calm in the face of Brandon going off the deep end over Ismael catching them together.

  He’d finished the trim after Brandon had left the house, and he’d spent the whole forty minutes or so that it took him to finish mulling over what had happened. Travis had known Ismael from his years working as a contractor, and while they weren’t close friends or anything, Ismael had never given Travis a reason not to trust him. So Travis left the house feeling pretty confident Ismael a) didn’t care at all about who was sleeping with whom, and b) wouldn’t tell anyone what he’d seen.

  It was, however, a good reminder that he and Brandon had to be more discreet.

  And that was fine, he reflected in the cab to Brandon’s place. It bugged him a little, but it was like a niggle in the back of his mind. For now, this was okay. If he and Brandon made any sort of commitment to each other down the line, that might change things.

  Maybe it was too late, though, because rather than being turned off by Brandon’s freak-out, he wanted to rush to Brandon’s side to calm him down.

  What the hell was wrong with him? This was not how Travis usually operated.

  When he got to Brandon’s place, they ate banh mi and Brandon seemed calmer. As they finished and Brandon clea
ned up the takeout bags and wrappers, Brandon said, “If you really trust Ismael, then I will too. I’m sorry for freaking out.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You staying calm is…. You know, Kayla thought you and I might be good for each other.”

  “You told her?” That was a surprise. Travis had assumed Brandon wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone.

  “She kind of intuited that we were more than just coworkers, and pulled the confession out of me. But she thought we’d be good together because we kind of complement each other. And here’s proof—you stayed calm while I freaked out. And that was comforting. I think if we’d both panicked, I’d be in a coronary unit right now.”

  Travis nodded but kept the fact that he was having second thoughts to himself. He couldn’t see a reason Ismael, who was always so chill about everything, would feel compelled to tell anyone. In fact, Travis didn’t think Ismael cared at all. And yet, if Ismael casually mentioned it to one of the guys on his crew, and then that man told someone on the TV crew because they’d been getting pretty chummy with each other… then word would get back to Virginia….

  Travis just wanted to fix houses. He didn’t need all this drama. He should be able to just walk away, but… he couldn’t.

  To change the subject, Travis said, “The night crew rolled in when I was leaving. They’re painting upstairs.”

  “The matte eggshell, right?” said Brandon.

  “Yep. And before you ask again, yes, it’s the right choice. Paint colors matter more on the first floor and the exterior. People want to customize their own bedrooms. If the family who buys the house has a daughter who wants to paint the room fuchsia, well, paint is cheap.”

  Brandon smiled. “I’ve seen a few episodes of this competition show for interior designers hosted by the Restoration Channel. In one episode, the contestants each had to design a room in a model home. Now that’s a case where you want to appeal to as broad a group of people as possible. You kind of want it to be a blank canvas—because people will want to customize—but you stage it well so that people can picture themselves living in it, right?”