Rusty Nailed (Cocktail, #2)(70)

I led my two best chickens through the house, explaining in great detail each finish and fixture that had been selected, painting a picture how it would all come together when it was complete. They made no comment on the fact that there was a toilet sitting in my dining room, which I greatly appreciated. I saved the best for last, and when I opened the French doors to the master suite, I saw gleaming furniture and polished oak floors. Mounds of pillows and the blue bay peeking through puddled curtains. What they actually saw were pine studs and yellow electrical wiring hanging from the ceiling, and that damn blow-up bed. But when they saw the claw-foot tub, even Sophia looked a bit wistful.

“This is kickass, Caroline,” she said, perching on the side. That’s her version of wistful.

“You gotta get in this tub, see how deep it really is,” I encouraged, sitting down in one end, and her eyes opened wider when she realized how luxurious it was. Wider still when I dangled my legs over one side, flashing my panties in the process.

“This is going to be so fantastic when it’s finished. How much longer until it’s all done?” Mimi asked.

“We’re on track to finish ahead of schedule, but I hate to even say that out loud. Who knows what else we might find?” Like the original knob-and-tube wiring that had to be ripped out, and the rotten subfloor downstairs, and the ghost that was living in the basement. Technically the ghost was a family of raccoons that had been relocated to a nearby nature preserve, but that was neither here nor there.

“I admit it, I never thought you two would be the first to get the house out in the burbs. How’s Simon doing with all this change?” asked Sophia, now in the tub with me.

“Oh, he’s having a grand old time. Yesterday he spent an hour examining the difference using a sandpaper with a forty grit versus eighty grit would make on the kitchen banquette. And don’t even get me started on how much fun he had with the chalk lines the crew used to ensure the sightlines were even on the new kitchen pass-through. There was blue chalk everywhere; I finally found him by following his blue footsteps,” I said flatly.

I couldn’t complain though, could I? Who wouldn’t want a boyfriend who was determined to create the most perfect home imaginable? And besides, once I found him, he quickly made me forget about the footprints. He showed me his tool belt, you see.

However, even the tool belt wasn’t enough to bring my O out of temporary hiding. It was temporary, right? Admittedly, it was hard to get down to the sexy times when there was a thin veil of drywall dust coating everything that would stand still, but still. Even the tool belt wasn’t making a dent.

If I ever saw Cory Weinstein again, I’d castrate him.

But seriously, it was just temporary. Right? I’d avoided sex with Simon for days now, something I’d never done. He was getting suspicious. I was getting frustrated. Even right now, I could feel the tension building up in my body.

Why wasn’t he booking jobs?

Wow, wrong tension.

This was why I needed to stop picking at this particular pickle.

“I’m glad we decided to wait until after we get married to look for a house. Too stressful while planning the wedding. Plus, I don’t want to live in sin. You know you’re hellbound, Caroline,” Mimi said with a wicked glint in her eye.

“Where do you think you’ll look for a house?” I asked, settling deeper into the tub while Mimi sat cross-legged on the window seat (a window seat in a bathroom? I can’t even) and looked out at the view.

“I think we’ll stay in the city for now, although I can really see the appeal of moving out here,” she said. The lot was wooded on either side of the house, and some of the trees in back had been cleared to see the water down below. It felt secluded, even though we weren’t far from our neighbors. Golden light streamed in, and it was so quiet. “I bet Sophia would never want to leave the city though, right?” she asked, turning back toward us.

Sophia didn’t answer right away, and that was the first time we noticed the tears.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” she whispered, rolling her eyes as Mimi immediately crossed over to us in the tub.

“Don’t give us that. What’s going on?” I asked, struggling to sit back up and flashing her more thoroughly this time. This tub was really quite deep.

Sophia laughed, then two more tears fell. “I want a claw-foot tub, dammit!” she cried.

Mimi pushed her forward and slid in behind her, wrapping her tiny arms around her. “You sure it’s just the tub you want?”

“Yes. No. Fuck. Do I have to say it?”

“You want Neil in the claw-foot tub with you?” I asked, pulling a tissue from my purse for her.

She blew her nose loudly. “I do. I hate myself for saying it, but I do.” She looked around at the tub, then chuckled. “What’s funny is he wouldn’t even fit in here, the stupid lug. He’s so tall.” She blew her nose again. “I miss him so f*cking much. Did I tell you he doesn’t even call me anymore? He stopped.”

She sniffed a great sniff, then looked up with determination. “I think—I think I need to call him. I’m going to call him,” she said, reaching for her purse as I met Mimi’s eyes.

“Sweetie, you sure you want to do that?” I asked, snatching up her purse and holding it just out of her reach. Impulse + Ex = Not Always a Good Thing.