“I was counting on you being reasonable and trusting me that this is the best way forward.” He holds me back firmer as I push against him. “There’s stuff all over the floor. It’s a building site. Talk to me. Yell at me.”
Outside, there’s a rumble that for a split second I think is Vince’s car. Light flashes, and I realize it’s a storm, and it’s rolling our way. We both look up at the new hole in the ceiling. The tarp puffs up in the wind.
“Oh fuck,” Tom breathes. “This really was not in the forecast.”
“Will it flood?” I step out of his hands.
“If they’ve done it right, it shouldn’t be too bad,” he says, but his eyes are doubtful as he looks down at the messy half-finished job, the bricks and the dust. He drops his grip on me. “I’ll go up and check.”
“Sure, like I’m letting you get on a roof at night when it’s about to rain. You have to live with this now.” I feel sick satisfaction when I see the look in his eyes. “You thought that you could get a little retroactive permission for something that had already been done. So, let’s just stay here and see if it leaks. I hope it does.”
“That makes no sense. This is your house.”
“I’m very irrational. I can’t believe you didn’t even let me say goodbye to it.” Another fresh wave of anger and disbelief strangles me.
“To a fireplace?”
“Yes, to a fireplace. You knew I loved it. You knew how much it meant to me. You said we’d light it again before the house sold.”
“You lived here on and off for years. You could have lit it anytime.” He leans a shoulder on the door frame and looks down at me in challenge. “That’s you, though. You just think you can pick things up and put them down, and they’ll always be there.”
My insides jump and I scramble around for something to do. “Aside from being spineless, and bowing to Jamie like always, you were unprofessional.” I bend down and pick up two bricks. “You know you were.”
“I had one owner’s agreement.” He’s distracted, watching me move back and forth across the room. “What are you doing?”
“Making a neat pile. There’s nothing left for me to demolish, after all.” I go back, pick up two more, but he takes my hands, turns them palm up, and dusts them off. Princess Mode activated.
The urge to slap his cheek shocks me.
“I expected better from you. If I’d opened the front door, and the fireplace was still there, it would have been proof that I’m your equal business partner. But it’s obvious that I’m just another bit of red tape to get around. You are always going to choose Jamie. Always.”
“I saw a way of getting more money in the sale. The budget is—” he clamps down on the rest of that sentence. “I know you don’t care about money, but that’s all I care about right now.”
“You said earlier that we were a team. So let’s wait here, as a team.” A spatter of rain hits the porch, and a gust of wind blows through the house like it’s just come straight off the ocean. “Let’s see how bad this gets.”
Tonight, at the bar, soaking in his attention and love? It was a glimpse of what I’ll never get.
His jaw is getting that familiar stubborn edge to it. “I said I’m sorry. I wanted to stay ahead of schedule, and I knew this was the right thing for the renovation. If this happens, then the flooring can happen early. I’m not used to having emotions attached to a house I’m working on, or more than one person to ask.”
“Sorry to inconvenience you with my feelings.” I bend, pick up bricks, and add them to my pile. “Must be rough for you, having to work around me and my tiresome grandmother memories.” I realize that the floorboards in front of where the fireplace stood are visibly worn. That’s how often we stood there. And it’s gone. “This wasn’t yours to knock down, Tom.”
“I can’t understand being attached to a fireplace. I’m never going to inherit anything. Mom’s broke. My dad, well.” He half laughs, and it’s bitter. “He lasted about three months after the pregnancy test. Consider yourself lucky to have had a fireplace in the first place.” I try to interrupt but he won’t let me. What he needs to say has been building inside him a long time. “I have all these emotions and memories floating around inside me, but I have no right to any of them.” It’s the closest Tom has ever come to complaining about his situation in life. “I’m hired to do this. Think about how that feels for me.”
I pick up another brick. “As far as we’re concerned, she was your grandmother, too.”
“All I’ve got to prove that is an old Garfield key ring.” It’s a painfully true statement. He didn’t get anything in her will. He realizes instantly what that sounded like, and adds, “But I didn’t expect anything. I’m not a Barrett, after all.”
He backs me all the way to the door, into the safe, clear zone striped by the streetlight. “Stop doing that.”
I bump my fist on my heart.
“I’ve always been an inconvenience, my entire life. Remember how Jamie was so desperate to go to Disney, and I just couldn’t get well enough for it?”
“Yeah,” Tom says, sympathetic.
“I used to lie in bed, angry at my own heart. If it would just cooperate, everything would be easier. Jamie would be happy. We’d all go on a fabulous vacation. You are the only one who has never made me feel that way.” My strong voice falters.
“Darcy, this wasn’t about you. This was me, and my insane need to do everything perfectly, ahead of schedule, under budget.”
“I don’t expect perfection,” I say, but he just laughs bitterly.
“What’s the first thing you said to me when you got home and found me here? What are you doing here, Tom Valeska, world’s most perfect man?” He points up at the ceiling. “Here’s your answer. I’m not. You hold me to a standard I cannot possibly achieve. I’ve been trying for years, though. Believe me.”
“You don’t have to try anymore. Just be you. Do your best. Fuck up if you want.” I can see the strain that he’s been under. It’s in the set of his jaw and the tightness of his fists. He’s always the calm cornerstone holding everything together, since he was a kid, buying groceries and putting out the garbage. Every staff member left Aldo, except Tom.