99 Percent Mine(54)

“Hey, tomorrow night, get everyone to come down to the bar I work at. We’ll have a little first-week celebration. I’ll give you all cheap drinks. You’ll have to show me your ID.”

Alex brightens. “That sounds awesome. We haven’t done anything like that in ages. Tom works us pretty hard.”

I can see it now, morale lifting and the entire team bonding. Clinking glasses, cheers! “Well, I want you guys to enjoy this project.” Everything steadies up and the moment has passed. I push away from the wall. “But this doesn’t mean I’m in love with you. Everyone’s invited.”

“I know that,” Alex gasps after a second, turning red. “I know that.”

Ben decides to risk his life. “Fairly obvious who she’s in love with.” I pretend to beat him with my crowbar, he pretends to be injured, and now we’re all grinning. I put the radio on and we all fall into rhythms matching the music. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I could do this forever.

They tell me about their last job, a big vacation house on top of a cliff. Tom worked all night to re-sand some floors that weren’t up to his standard. They tell me what I already know: Tom is a tireless perfectionist. I think they’re warning me. I work harder, neater, determined to do this perfectly. I will be faultless.

“You might be able to answer this one,” Alex starts. “What’s with the Chihuahua? We’ve never worked it out.” He goes for my next full box of tiles.

“What do you mean?”

“A guy like that should have a big dog,” Alex says on a grunt as he hoists. “We kind of thought she was Megan’s.”

“A guy like that? Tom was thirteen when he got her, and he didn’t care that he’d get teased for it forever. He picked the rescue dog that loved him best. And I named her myself, years before Tom even met Megan.”

The brag is clear in my voice, but I can’t help it. Wait. That wasn’t bragging. That sounded like ownership.

“Hey.” I take Alex by the sleeve as he steps past me. I glance at Ben and Colin; they’re both preoccupied. In a soft tone, I say, “I’ve met a lot of men, all over the world, and Tom’s the best. Without a doubt, he is the best man. Try to be like him.” Alex nods, absorbing Grandma Darcy’s wisdom.

“A guy like that,” I repeat to myself as I resume work. I want to call Alex back to give him a full sermon on all the reasons that Tom is the example he should aspire to.

Tom did a task briefing with some guys yesterday with Patty sitting between his boots. A guy like that is strong in a way that’s deeper than muscle and bones, because he wears his softness on the outside. I think I met my ideal man when I was eight, and no one else has ever measured up.

“A guy like that.” This time when I lean on the tiles, it’s because I’m thinking about Tom in a way that makes me stop breathing altogether. If he walks past right now and puts his head around the door, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my expression neutral.

I’ve never felt this way before in my life. I don’t know what to do.

I turn back to my task, my face warm. The single pink tile is next in line. I’ll take this one off carefully and keep it as a coaster. Pop. I turn it over, and it has a tarot card beneath the layer of glue.

“What!” I laugh out loud. “Guys, look. My grandma left me something.” Ben and Alex crowd around me like I’ve struck gold.

“What even is it?” Alex is adorably na?ve about most things.

“My grandma was a fortune-teller. This is the Strength tarot card.” A woman dressed in white holds open the jaws of a lion. It could be a violent image, but instead it’s nothing but patience and steadiness. It looks like me and Valeska.

“What does it mean?”

I try to remember. She tried to teach me how to read cards, but I was always too busy. Too tired. Too hungover. Too overseas. “I think it means perseverance and courage. But I’ll have to look it up.”

Ben says, “Maybe there are more cards hidden around the house. It’s a sign. Tell everyone to keep an eye out,” he adds to Alex, and the fact that he hasn’t just dismissed it as girly nonsense has me beaming.

I finish the wall tiles by midmorning, and while I do have a few more heart-skip moments, I hold up well. Colin has been watching me like a buzzard waiting for a carcass. I forget to eat my lunch or drink and have no idea what time it is when I pull up the final section of floor tiles and blot my sweaty face into the hem of my tank.

“Wow,” Tom says from the doorway. “Okay.” He looks around the room like he’s never seen it before.

I’m a shaky mess. “I don’t know how long this should have taken me, so I can’t tell if you’re actually impressed.” I’m nervous as his perfect eyes trace over the walls, floors, up my legs, and to my face.

“You did this by yourself?” He’s shocked.

“She’s a machine.” Ben gives me a crooked grin and turns back to his own task.

Tom steps close and assesses me. “You didn’t push it too hard?”

He takes me by the wrist, feeling for my pulse. His other hand scrapes my hair back from my face. I shouldn’t like his brand of fussing. I should step out of his hands. But maybe I should try to wear a little softness on the outside. I lean into his touch.