“Money means nothing to me. If you try to piss me off by spending it, never gonna happen. Even if you managed to clean me out, I can always make more.” She smiles knowingly, as if she figured as much even before she spent it. I meet the two men at the door, noticing another truck pulling up. The man gets out, asking where I want everything, and I point to the clean side of the carport. “Just put it out here. I’ll move it in later.” I look at a frowning Saylor in the doorway and raise my eyebrows in question at her.
“I paid them to move the old out too,” she says, and even though I told her she could redo everything, a piece of me isn’t quite ready to let the past go. She knows this and fixes the problem, like she always seems to do.
“Just push the couch into the dining room and put everything in the living room. We’ll set it up when we’re ready.” The man nods his head, avoiding even looking at Saylor. I’m sure it’s ’cause he won’t be able to focus on anything but her chest. Although she changed her shirt, this one is just as tight as the other. At least she put a bra on. Looking at her legs, perhaps I should have told her she needed to put some pants on too. Her cutoff shorts are so short, the pockets hang out the bottom of them. I like the way she looks, but I don’t want anyone else liking it.
While the furniture is being unloaded, I unload the truck—taking everything to the kitchen while Saylor puts it away. I would rather she just sit down, but I’d be fighting a losing battle. When the movers are gone and everything is inside, I survey the damage.
Saylor has more stuff than I thought she was capable of buying in such a short time. Paint, groceries, decorative shit, bedding, dishes, two sets of mattresses, two bedroom suites, a couch, a love seat, a table with chairs, two end tables, a bookshelf, and six lamps. My house looks like a fucking furniture store threw up in it.
“You like it?” she asks, standing beside me. I want to answer, but I need to sort my words so I sound appreciative. Because I am. It’s just a little overwhelming. “I got rugs and stuff too. I even bought some pictures and stuff to do the bathroom. It’ll be perfect when I’m finished.”
These material items mean nothing. The fact that she is standing here next to me makes this godforsaken place perfect. Something I never thought possible.
“I like it. Thank you.” My words aren’t much, but she smiles.
“I’ll cook for you tomorrow. Tonight, I’ll make us a sandwich, but I want to set up a real bed first.” She grabs a bag of stuff and heads down the hall. She is acting as if she didn’t just collapse in a grocery store and has a big bump on her head. I’m not sure what to think of it, but if she wants to act like nothing’s wrong, then I guess I should too.
—
I’m standing in the middle of what was once my old bedroom. Saylor never asked my opinion, she just did what she wanted and I did what I was told. I thought it would take longer to have the room ready, but Saylor surprised me with her ability to get shit done.
It’s late, maybe even after midnight, but my old bedroom has been transformed into a new bedroom in less than a day. The room is now a bright yellow and the queen-sized bed we just set up takes up the majority of the small space. The floors still look old and worn, but they are clean and Saylor has a few rugs laying around the room. Two nightstands, two lamps, three candles, curtains, a white comforter, and twenty fucking pillows later, the room is complete.
“Now it feels a little more like a home. I can’t wait to sleep in this bed!” Saylor is excited and I don’t know what over. It’s a damn house. But whatever.
“I’m hungry,” I mumble because I’m an ass, I’m tired, I’m hot as hell, and I haven’t eaten all day.
“Me too.” Saylor finally drags her eyes away from the room and to me. Her smile outshines the bright yellow of the walls, and I don’t think even the sun could outshine her in this moment.
I follow her to the kitchen and watch as she makes us a sandwich, just like she promised hours ago. I lean up against the counter, listening to her meaningless talk that I love so fucking much. Love. Shit.
“Tomorrow, we’ll do the living room and kitchen and dining room. It won’t take us long. The painting is the worst part and even that wasn’t so bad. I’ve already cleaned everything anyway. After I eat, I’m gonna work on the bathroom. I figure we can work on the other room last, or whenever you’re ready.” I know she is referring to Black’s room. I’m still not sure how I feel about that, but at least I have a couple of days to think on it.
Saylor’s head has a nasty bruise, but the swelling has gone down and she hasn’t complained about it all day. I wonder if it hurts her.
“What happened in the store?” My words catch her off guard and she stops midchew, her happiness fading.
“If the obvious isn’t enough, I guess I’ll tell you again. I fainted.” She continues eating, avoiding my eyes. I need more and she knows it, but she isn’t giving in that easy.
“You got something you want to tell me?” I ask, knowing good and damn well what her answer will be.