Nina

“Gavin has a pretty nice place here.” Kyle scans the room. “A little heavy on the bachelor décor, but still nice.” He walks around the front rooms, taking it all in. “Cabinets are handcrafted. Amish, I believe.”

“Really? How can you tell?” I take a step toward him.

“See this?” He points to the face of the cabinet. “This design is too intricate to be factory made. The wood…” He taps the door. “Solid.”

“Why Amish?”

Kyle turns to me and smiles. “Well, I’m willing to bet, if I open this cabinet here—”

“Don’t touch the mugs.” I reach for his arm, pulling it back. “Those are Niki’s. She takes her mugs seriously.”

“Don’t worry.” He cracks a smile. “As I was saying—”

“Enter at your own risk.”

“There will be a symbol or initials.” He opens the door, “Yep, sTm, it’s the same family who did mine.

“Interesting.”

“I’m probably boring you.” He walks around the room, running his hand along the drywall.

“Honestly, it’s been a while since someone wanted to share anything with me. It’s nice.” I’m more open than I wanted to be.

Nodding his head, he takes in what I said. “So, tell me your design plans?”

“Seriously?” I grab onto the back of the couch, grounding myself. If he really wants to know, I’m liable to spring across this room and into his arms.

“Yeah…the gray paint…this room?”

“Let me just show you.” I reach into my bag and pull out the design, handing it over.

“So, this wall here will be the shade darker.” He turns around to face the fireplace.

“Yeah, I want this to be the focal point of the room. The other walls and the kitchen will be the lighter gray.” I bounce over to the island and grab the brick sample board. “And I want to replace the marble on the fireplace with this brick.”

“I see.” He begins to laugh.

My face falls, his laughter taking me back to the time I tried to talk to Brandon about going back to school.

Tonight’s a special night. Brandon finally got the promotion he has been working endless hours for and I got into design school.

Setting the last candle in place, I turn off the lights and take in the glow of the room. A vase of roses picked from the rose bush behind our house decorates the center of the table. Bowls full of spaghetti, Brandon’s favorite, sit on each end.

Hearing the lock rattle, I fluff up my hair and grab the champagne.

“Nina, you in…Ohhhh.” He stops in the middle of the kitchen, kicking the door shut with his foot. “Well hello there.” He drops his briefcase and swoops me up in his arms and my legs instantly wrap around him. “What’s all this?”

“It’s a ‘my incredible boyfriend got a promotion’ dinner, and I have some news of my own.” I give his neck a little nuzzle and he stiffens.

“I didn’t get the promotion.” He pries my arms from around his neck and slides me down.

“No way! I thought you were a shoe-in and that tonight—”

“Well, you thought wrong.” He begins to turn on the lights.

“You said—”

“Dammit!” He slams his keys on the table with enough force that it knocks the vase over, and the water goes everywhere.

“Brandon…” I hurry and pick up the bowls, but it’s too late. The water has gotten into the pasta.

“Well, fuck.” He grabs the bowls from me. “You made this for me?”

“Your favorite: half meat sauce, half salsa mixed in with the thin spaghetti.” My smile is weak.

Dumping one bowl into the trash he examines the other. “I think this one is salvageable.”

“Oh good.” I walk over to the cabinet and reach in for another bowl for us to share.

Grabbing a fork, he begins to twist the pasta around it as he walks over to me. “Thanks, babe.” He stuffs his mouth. “This is fucking good.”

Welp, so much for that. I guess it’s cereal for me. Filling my bowl with stale Lucky Charms is not what I call a celebratory dinner.

“So, what’s your news?” Brandon sits in his chair and flips on Fox News.

“Well, remember how I redesigned our bedroom and you said I had a real talent for decorating?”

“Yeah.” He stuffs in another bite. “Can you pour me some of that bubbly stuff?” He points to his mouth. “Wash this down.”

I set my bowl down, not feeling very hungry, and pop the champagne, wishing he would wait till I share my news and we really did have something to celebrate.

“Well, I helped, Mrs. Nance decorate her family room and her daughter who runs an interior design company said—”

“Who is Mrs. Nance?” he interrupts.

“Our next-door neighbor.”

“The old lady you help?” He taps his fork against the bowl. “What is her name? Phyllis? Joyce?”

“Margaret.”

“That’s right.” He takes another bite, and a little bit of sauce splashes on his tie. “Goddammit.” He throws the bowl on the coffee table; it wobbles, but doesn’t tip over. “I thought it had too much sauce.” He loosens his tie and walks over to the trash, popping it open with his foot, and slams the tie in it. “My favorite fucking tie!

“Brandon!” I run over to the trash, dig out the tie and quickly run cold water over it, removing any sauce, and then dab Dawn dish soap on for any grease. “I used the exact amounts you like.”

“Something was different.” He walks over to the laundry room which is hidden in a closet in the kitchen. He snags a T-shirt from the bottom of a pile of clothes I just folded, and the rest of his clean shirts tumble to the floor.

At this point, I just want to forget I even brought anything up. Maybe he will forget I said anything.

“Okay, so finish…you helped the old lady.” He lets out a little chuckle as he makes his way back to his chair.

“Well, yes, sort of.” I take a seat beside him, on the arm. Something I have done a million times. “She wanted to redecorate her family room. So, I helped her pick out some paints.”

“That’s nice.” He pulls me down onto his lap. “Thanks for the spaghetti. I think the sauce was right. It was the grease. You didn’t rinse the meat. That had to be it.”

“Sorry.”

“Continue.” He turns me on his lap to face him, my legs on either side of his.

“Well, she loved it, but when her daughter came over, she was in awe.” I’m practically bouncing with excitement now.

“Keep bouncing like that and I’ll have to bend you over right here.” He raises his hips at the same time as he slaps my ass.

“Anyways…she thought Mrs. Nance had hired a professional.” I pause gauging his reaction, but he is looking past me and watching the news. “When she found out it was me, she asked if I had a degree or if I had any hands-on experience. Mrs. Nance wasn’t sure so she gave her my number.”

“That’s nice, babe.”

“Brandon, she’s that one designer. You know, the one I watch on TV on the DIY network.”

“Cool,” he responds, not listening to a single word I say.

“Summer Collins is Mrs. Nance’s daughter! Can you believe that? And the best part is, she said I could intern for her, but first I needed to take a few classes to get the basics down and learn the terminology.” Placing a hand on his cheek, I look him in the eyes. “She got me into design school. Well, not a full semester, but a couple classes.”

He pushes me off his lap and onto the floor as he stands up and begins to pace.

So much for not listening.

“What the fuck, Nina? You think because you painted someone’s house that you can go on TV and do this for a living? It’s slapping some color on a white-ass wall and saying you gave it a make-over.”

“It’s more than that,” I tell him.

“I’m not going to work every day and bust my ass to pay for school for you to learn the color wheel.”

“But you loved how I decorated our bedroom.” I stand up. “You said I had a real talent for it.”

He begins to laugh, bending over at the waist. His laughter echoes throughout the room. “I wanted to get laid.”

“Don’t laugh at me.” I stomp over to Kyle, snatching the sketch out of his hand.

“Hey, I was looking at that.” He tries to snag it back, but quickly sees I’m not in a playful mood.

“I wasn’t laughing at you.” He tucks his hands in his pockets.

“Then what were you laughing at?” I demand.

I may have taken this shit with Brandon, but now I’m living for me and I refuse to have someone belittle my dreams.

“Nina…” His face softens. “What made me laugh was that you titled your design ‘Netflix and Chill.’”

“Oh.” I feel a heat travel from my head to my toes. I’m so embarrassed, and a little ashamed of how I overreacted.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s just…” I trail off.

He’s in front of me, bending his knees to get to eye level. He removes one hand from his pocket and lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Your design is amazing. The attention you paid to details from the colors to textures, that is talent.” His thumb begins to work circles on my bottom jaw, causing my body to go lax. “The question is, who are you hiring to do all this work?”

“I’m doing it.” I reach up, gently pushing his hand away. “Tonight, I’m going to start painting.”

“You have a lot of prep work to do—”

“I do realize what it’s going to take.” I step forward, interrupting.

“I know you do. I was just going to say, I’m not busy tonight and I can free-hand trim like no one’s business.” His smile is crooked, cautious.

“I got it covered. Spotlight has some band coming in tonight, so Niki and Gavin won’t be home till late. So, I have plenty of time to knock this out.” I walk around behind Kyle and begin to push him toward the door. “I appreciate your help today and thank you for bandaging me up, but I got this all under control.

“Alright, but if for some reason you get bored or take a break...” He holds up his phone. “Text me.

“Will do.” We stand in the doorway, face to face.

“See you tomorrow.” He leans down and gives me a quick peck on the cheek, turns and leaves.

Shutting the door, I rest my back against it, looking around. It’s a lot of wall to cover and I could do it on my own, but why should I when I have someone wanting to help?

Pushing myself off the door, I turn and swing it open. Kyle is still there, unloading my bike. “Care to show me those mad trimming skills?”

Flashing me one hell of a smile, dimples front and center, he says, “Only if you’re paying in pizza.”

“Supreme?” I fold my hands together, pleading.

“It’s the only way.”