The Color of Us

by Jessica Park

  “You have a point,” he says with a laugh. “So, what do you want to go with?”

  “A blue. You pick. But not your blue.”

  “But not our blue, you mean,” he corrects me. Then, he thinks as he kisses me deeply, and when he pulls away against my protest, he whispers. “Dusk.”

  “I’m down with that.” I sigh. “And if Paul hadn’t shown up, I was about to be down with something else.”

  “And I was not going to object.” He smiles and looks more relaxed than he did a few minutes ago. “I don’t have any plans tonight. You know, if you’re still interested.”

  “Oh, I’m definitely still interested.”

  Danny clears his throat and adjusts his jeans. “Okay, we have to stop talking, or I’m never going to be able to walk downstairs and face Paul.”

  “Understood. Come on. Let’s go get your shirt and say good morning to your neglected dog and your overreacting boss.”

  Not that I’m aching for him to put a shirt on, but I don’t want to antagonize Paul any further.

  Once coffee is brewing and Danny has his orange juice and is playing with Shallots, I whip up omelets for the three of us. It’s still funny to me that I can whip up anything, but I’m beaming as I bring an omelet and coffee outside.

  Paul is sitting on the front porch and seemingly sulking.

  “Hello, Paul,” I say overly sweetly as I hand him breakfast. “How are you?”

  It takes a moment for him to reply, and he does so in a noticeably surly tone. “I suppose we were going to redo the railing anyway.”

  “That’s the spirit!” I playfully punch him on the arm, but he still glares at me. “Paul, come on. I know this is a little bit awkward, but it doesn’t have to be a big deal.” I grimace as he violently stabs his omelet.

  “You’re Mike’s kid, okay? My best friend’s kid. And he’s not here to watch out for you, so how can I not?”

  Danny was right.

  I sit down on the edge of the porch. “I get that. But you don’t have to watch out for me. At least, not with Danny. You know him. You know he’s a really, really good guy.”

  “I know.” He slurps his coffee. “I know he is.”

  “And if it helps, we care about each other. A ton. This wasn’t some meaningless one-night thing.”

  “Fine. Just don’t break anything else.”

  When he goes back to devouring his omelet, I take this as a positive sign.

  “We’ll do our best.”

  When I go back inside, Danny is washing the dishes by hand.

  “I know this kitchen is dated, but there is a dishwasher,” I point out.

  “I needed something to do.”

  I rub his back. “Paul is fine. But, yeah, he’s definitely going to ride your ass today.”

  He sets a plate in the drainer, shuts off the water, and turns to me. “Totally worth it. As long as I get to ride—”

  “Okay, easy there.” But I laugh.

  Not that I doubted that last night was real and meaningful, but it’s still wonderful when his lips hit mine, his tongue finds mine, and he kisses me with the same passion I felt last night.

  Paul storms in and noisily sets down his mug and plate. “Okay, enough with the making out and more with the paint scraping. Matteo and Slowski will be here in a few minutes. I want that porch ready for staining.”

  “Yes, sir,” Danny says with a grin. Even with Paul here, he kisses me quickly. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “And while they’re working on that, we need to talk,” Paul says.

  While I brace myself for more grilling, it turns out that he wants to talk house stuff, which is a relief.

  “The living room windows and the doors to the deck are going in next week.”

  “Yes, I know. And?”

  “Have you thought about the greenhouse window for the kitchen that I mentioned? It would look over the lake. And then we could enlarge the second window here and replace it with the same iron frame as the others. That’d be the time to install those. You know, if you want.”

  He’s so damn invested in this house—I can tell. And I love it.

  “Yes, let’s do both!” I almost jump up and down. “This kitchen totally needs more light. And we’ll talk about the rest of the renovations here later, right? ’Cause I have ideas.”

  “Yes, kiddo, we will. And I’m sure you do.”

  “I’m not wanting to change the layout, so you won’t have to worry about plumbing or electrical stuff. Cabinets, counters, and a backsplash probably.”

  “That’s a pretty easy remodel.”

  “And the floor.” I remember. “Lighting …”

  “Still all easy.”

  “So, you won’t kick me out of here for too long? I’ve got important brunches to host.”

  Paul shrugs. “Nope. It’ll be a pretty quick turnaround. Start picking out your appliances and everything.”

  “Okay, I’m on it.”

  Paul nearly walks past me and then stops. Without warning, he suddenly collects me in a hug.

  Taken aback, I wait for him to say something, but he holds me for a long time and then pats me on the back before he walks outside.

  While I want to cry, I hold it in. I’m too happy, and I don’t want to lose that feeling.

  After going through tons of bookmarked recipes, I text Alex about Sunday’s impending brunch and ask if he’d like to come over on Saturday afternoon to do some baking so that we can have some food prepared beforehand.

  A sour-cherry chocolate-chunk muffin? And can we go over the recipe for the baked croque monsieur casserole?

  He replies within seconds, saying that he will be at my house at four thirty-seven p.m. and will have a lemon with him.

  Later that afternoon, Danny hugs me from behind when he finds me hovering over my iPad.

  “What are you looking at now?” he asks sweetly.

  “Oh God, it’s so stupid. It’s a ricotta cake topped with a layer of edible flowers encased in gelatin. Not like I could pull that off.”

  “But maybe you could. You should try.” He massages my shoulders and then slides his hands under the front of my tank top. “A goal recipe.”

  “I like the idea of a goal recipe,” I admit as he brushes my hair to the side and starts kissing my neck.

  After he pushes his waist against me, he lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll see you tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  He has to walk away, I know, so I nod and follow him to my front door.

  And then he does this cute thing where he walks backward while looking at me. “And every night after that?”

  “Of course.”

  twenty-six

  Today is going to be a big day for this house, and I cannot wait. Monday is a crummy day for most people, but it’s a great one for me right now. The new windows are going to be installed in the living room and the kitchen by another of Paul’s crews, and the French doors out to the porch are going in. The light that’s going to flood this dark house is going to be breathtaking. Matteo and Slowski are already outside, continuing to paint the exterior, while Danny finishes staining the porch.

  When I take my usual spot at the end of the dock, it’s hard not to keep peeking back at him, but I force myself to keep my eyes on the water and not distract either of us. Of course, I cheat now and then, and aside from his lure, there is undeniably the lure of the fresh coat of white paint that is already shining against the black tin roof on this side of the house. And the portion of the deck that Danny has covered with a dark stain makes me want to throw my arms up in the air because it’s a classic look that I will love for years.

  For a few moments, I allow myself to cringe at the thought of how I’m going to tell my mother what I want. What I’m going to do. Quickly, I shake off the feeling of dread though and go back to happier thoughts.

  Even though I won’t be hosting brunch next weekend because of Wakefest, I still look over menu ideas, read recipe reviews, and watch video afte
r video. It’s been such an unexpected pleasure to have people over and feed a large group, and I don’t want to fail them when the next one rolls around. Alex and I are getting a rhythm down, and this past Sunday’s gathering went incredibly smoothly. The cherry chocolate muffins and croque monsieur casserole were hits, and it was smart of Alex to suggest fruit in some form, so I loved doing skewered fruit kabobs.

  Nicole thanked me for the lemon that I gave her for her crepes, and Jackson thanked me for the hat. Apparently, she’d needed one lemon for her crêperie, and Jackson had been hit with a summer flu, so the hat helped his chills.

  Their words made me smile, as I saw again how much Alex was a helper.

  It’s taken hours of planning, but I finally send Paul links to what I want for the kitchen. After browsing through countless inspirational pictures, I stumble across one that I know is my kitchen. It’s bold, unique, and outside my comfort zone, but I know it’s right. Anjou-pear green cabinets and shelving with matching beadboard on the walls, a darker juniper-green patterned ceramic backsplash, vintage-style appliances—including a six-burner gas stove—butcher block counters, a small island, a farmhouse sink with a brushed-gold faucet, a few floating shelves, and mixed-metal fixtures throughout. But one of the things I love about it the most is what I want for the ceiling—a fantastic hanging light and painted tin tiles in a light green. He’s going to have to figure out the exact configuration and how much I can pack into the space, but I at least have the general concept down.

  Mary Ann texts me and asks if I can meet up with her at the farm. There are about a hundred weird emojis and exclamation points along with a 911, so I immediately reply that I’ll be right over. Given that my house is being ravaged, I don’t mind leaving, so I don’t have to witness the mess. I wave to Danny as I drive away, and it feels so nice to have someone to say good-bye to.

  Mary Ann is pacing like nobody’s business when I get to her, and I’m now worried that there’s some sort of crisis she hasn’t told me about.

  “What’s happening? What’s wrong?” I ask. “Should we call 911?”

  “What? No!” She laughs. “It’s not that kind of emergency.” She finally holds still. “I’m so into Slowski. Like, so, so into him. Thinking about him all the time, watching him, the way he moves, hanging on his every word and hoping he doesn’t notice, but also wanting him to notice, you know? It’s making me crazy. I want to ask him out. I have to ask him out. But what if he hates me? Okay, fine, he doesn’t hate me,” she says more to herself than me. “But what if I’m still one of the guys to him? What if it’s a hard no? What if he isn’t interested and then everything gets all weird after?”

  “Okay, yeah, let’s all calm down here.” My heart rate is now back to normal because she’s obviously not having an actual emergency. “I’m so digging this! And it definitely won’t be a hard no. And I don’t even think it’ll be a no. I mean, you’re you. A hot, desirable, vivacious, sensitive, and caring you.”

  When she looks at me, she seems slightly less stressed. “Well, now, I’m wondering if I should ask you out.”

  “Okay, very funny. So, what can I do to help?”

  The pacing starts up again. “So, I’m thinking about inviting him to go on a picnic. Like, wouldn’t that be cute? Kind of old-fashioned maybe, but it could be fun. I have an actual picnic basket that my grandparents use. But what do I bring? Serve? What’s a sexy lunch? And I can’t cook a damn thing. Callie, would you—”

  “Of course. I’ll pack you up a great lunch!” I answer before she can finish asking. “Gimme a minute. I’ll find something.” While I have to browse online for a bit, I smile as I share what I come up with. “Okay, so what if you do a Greek theme? Greek appetizers. Homemade hummus and tabbouleh. Shrimp, orzo, and feta salad. Olives. Pita bread and lemon wedges for everything. Maybe, most importantly, iced mint tea, for good breath. You know, in case there’s a kiss or a hundred.”

  “Okay, I love that!” Mary Ann stops in her tracks. “Holy shit, a kiss? What if we kiss? Fuck, that would be unreal. And so unlikely. But what if?”

  “If he doesn’t kiss you, he’s a moron. And it’s the perfect setup, right?”

  “I could do it somewhere on my grandparents’ property. Although there’d be a risk we’d be smelling some sort of animal manure, which is definitely not sexy.”

  “Danny’s got a lovely property. Lots of open fields and shit. So perfect for a picnic. Maybe ask him?”

  Mary Ann clenches her hands and thinks. “Okay, yes. That’s smart. And way sexier than manure pastures.”

  “We might be staring out the window as your date happens, but of course, I don’t mind.”

  She freezes. “Wait a minute. Did you say we? Yes, you did! We means you and Danny! You guys are a we?”

  There’s no way that I can hide my expression. “He may have spent the night here...”

  “What?” She shrieks with glee. “So, that night on the couch wasn’t a one-night stand. At all.” She follows me to my car and twirls, and I know I’m going to answer to her likely many questions later.

  After we pick up what we need for me to make everything for her picnic, I suggest that we stop at Finley’s Minis. A few small dessert items to finish off a date.

  Jackson welcomes us with enthusiasm and asks what we’re looking for. I make a show of gesturing to Mary Ann and tell him how she wants to impress someone.

  “So, we want something sexy. Maybe something she could feed to a date perhaps.”

  “Okay, understood.” Jackson claps his hands. “Okay, how about a selection of petit fours? They’re tiny bite-sized cake bites. I have lemon and berry, almond, chocolate-covered raspberry, carrot cake. Or mini cannoli?”

  “Yes!” I say definitively. “Whatever else you think might be cute for a date.”

  “My pleasure.” It seems to take him an inordinately long amount of time to package up our pastries. “So, your brunches seem to be a big hit, Callie, huh?”

  “You must come to the next one!” I insist.

  “I would love to. Thank you for the invite. Not sure if you know, but I’ve only been in Wake for a little over eight months. Moved up here because I’d always wanted to open a place like this, but I couldn’t afford it in a bigger city. Plus, it’s so lovely and quiet here. I hated the constant noise of New York City.”

  “I hear you on that. Los Angeles was way too loud and busy for me,” I agree.

  “Hey, how is Matteo? I know he works for Paul and does a lot of construction, but I haven’t spoken to him much.” Jackson wipes down a counter and starts rinsing the bowl for his KitchenAid blender. With slightly too much energy. And there’s a decided lack of eye contact. “I’d love to have someone here to do minor repairs. Nothing huge, but do you think he’d be interested?”

  Both of us play it cool, but Mary Ann and I can see there might be something to build on.

  “You know, he’s over at my house right now. Why don’t you come back with us, and you two can talk?” I suggest.

  “Oh. I guess I could close up shop for a bit,” Jackson says.

  Mary Ann leans over the counter and makes sad eyes at him. “Besides, I could use the support if Slowski totally rejects me. You might have to haul me back here and push all the healing chocolate treats my way.”

  “And it’s a picture-perfect day,” I point out. “Made for swimming and floating. Sounds as though we all might do well with some boy-gazing time.”

  Jackson holds up a hand. “No, I didn’t say—”

  “But you kinda did.”

  He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Fine, I kinda did. I can’t complain about some boy-gazing.”

  “And maybe a double date?”

  “I don’t know about that!” he protests. “But Slowski, huh? Not an unattractive boy at all.”

  “Back atcha. And please?” she begs. “It would make it so much easier if we weren’t alone. If Slow even says yes. Let’s both take a risk! Ask out Matteo!”

  “I’ll think
about this stupid idea. But I’ll at least swim and approach him about repairs.”

  Right after he goes upstairs to his apartment to grab a swimsuit, Alex marches into the store. “I am here for tiramisu. Joan had a baby five months ago and is tired and wants a treat. Her preferred treat is tiramisu. The baby takes a nap in the afternoon, so I should go back after three p.m.” He glances around nervously. “Where is Jackson? He is supposed to be here.”

  “It’s okay; he’ll be right back to help you,” Mary Ann says. “He’s getting a bathing suit because we’re all going back to Callie’s for a swim. Would you like to come?”

  He thinks for a long time. “It is hot today. A swim would make sense. But I do not have a bathing suit. I cannot get wet as I am. And I have to bring tiramisu to Joan this afternoon.”

  “I bet Jackson has a suit you could borrow, and we will have you delivering tiramisu on time. Sound okay?” I ask.

  Alex looks around the room for a bit and eventually replies, “Nope. I do not like wearing other people’s clothing, and I need to bring Joan her treat on time.”

  “Okay, but we’ll see you at Wakefest?” I ask. “You remember that we won’t have brunch this weekend.”

  “I have that in my calendar. I will be helping Mary Ann sell vegetables and animal wool.”

  “And I appreciate your help, Alex. Here, I’ll get you the tiramisu for Joan.” Mary Ann rounds the counter and packages up slices that she hands over. “See you Friday morning.”

  “Yes, see you Friday morning.”

  Jackson follows us back to my house and waits for us on the dock while Mary Ann and I change into bathing suits, and I’ve again given her one of my bikinis that shows off her figure.

  When I put on mine, I blurt out, “What the fuck?”

  My body has filled out so much that I’ve probably gone up a cup size. And an ass size, although that’s not likely a term.

  “Yeah, what the fuck is right,” she says. “You’re looking extra hot these days.”

  “And extra like a flashy whore in my bathing suit. Ugh,” I say with a groan.

  “You look lovely. Perhaps a bit … exposed.”