99 Percent Mine(58)

I’m stung. “I did weddings for how many years? I always showed up for them.”

“But you need to start looking at the bigger picture. Where’s your business now? You pressed the button and imploded that, just because you screwed up one time and that bride trashed you online.” More sewing noises. “You broke your own heart on that, and you need to forgive yourself for it.”

I chew my thumbnail and stubbornly say nothing.

“Just go and unpick your mistake and keep on sewing. He is not coping, Darce, that much is painfully obvious. Find out what you can do for him and do it.”

I pull open the sliding door and the sound causes half of the crew to look around. Fuck it. Let’s see if I can unpick this.

“Hey, guys, a quick word.” I try to not notice how Tom’s arms have crossed, his face taking on a careful, neutral expression. He’s expecting a blaze of glory right now.

“So I jumped the gun earlier. Apparently, you have the end-of-job party at the end of the job.” There’s laughter. “My bad. I’ll order pizza for everyone tomorrow. Eating it here with no alcohol whatsoever. Then we all resume working our asses off. That’s my best offer.”

There’s no grumbling. In fact, they cheer, a big a-heeeeey!

That’s because pizza is a precious natural resource. It can heal tiredness, bad mood, falling morale, and a fading will to live. Pizza realigns the heart chakras. It can make Tom’s arms loosen and drop to his sides. It can make his eyes spark with humor. He smiles and shakes his head.

It makes him look at me like he loves me again, and that’s why pizza is the greatest.

“Okay. Pizza party on Friday. Now get your asses back to work. That means you too, Darcy.”

Late in the afternoon, Tom approaches me. He’s tired, with paperwork in his hands. His phone has been crying like a baby all afternoon. “I’m going down to the gym to take a shower.”

I want to thank him for the mental image. “The gym has a pool, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t have time.”

“Get in the water. Even ten minutes. It’s what you need.” He needs time. How can I give him more time? Come on, Loretta. Give me a sign. What can I do? How can I instill a bit of calm in his life?

His phone begins ringing, and it becomes so obvious I want to slap myself. I put my arms around his waist and pull his phone from his back pocket.

“Valeska Building Services. Darcy speaking. Yep, I can get back to you on that.” I pull a piece of paper from my back pocket and write, Tile color? “Yep. In the morning. Bye.”

He stares at me. I have no idea if I’m about to be screamed at.

The phone rings again. “I’d better buy a notepad. Valeska Building Services. Darcy speaking. What? Alex. I’m answering Tom’s phone from now on. If you left your phone here, it stays here until the morning. I don’t know! Watch TV. Yep. Bye.” I hang up. “No message required.”

“You’re not a secretary, you’re my client.” Tom grabs at it when it rings again. I hold up my finger and answer it again.

“Sure, but it’ll have to be the morning.” I write down, Rental equipment confirmation. “He’s finished for the day. Bye.”

I put his phone in my back pocket, and it feels like it belongs there.

“Go. If you don’t come back with chlorine on you, I’m going to be pissed off. I’ll clear your voicemail and write a list of questions for you. I’ll call them back. It’s going to be okay.”

“Darce.” His voice is wretched with gratitude and his body droops with exhaustion. He looks like he wants to get down on his knees and kiss the toe of my boot.

“Don’t cry.” I pat his shoulder. “It’s just a few messages.”





Chapter 16


It’s a late Friday night after my bar shift when I find Tom, still hard at work at his desk. Just the sight of him, sitting in the same room as my bed, crackles through my synapses and obliterates my exhaustion.

He looks up at me and his eyes don’t change. He’s exhausted.

“Hi. Did you call Terry back, by any chance?” He clenches his jaw to repress his yawn. I’m pretty sure I completely hallucinated that moment when he told me I was sexy.

“Yeah. That guy’s a jerk.” I unhook my earrings and toss my jacket on my bed. My feet ache. Scratch that: everything aches. I wonder if we have any pizza left over from our second Friday worksite pizza party. I’m a legend around these parts. I think if I don’t buy pizza again this week, I’ll break hearts.

He turns in his chair, expression apologetic. “I know. That’s why I hate calling him.”

“Luckily, he’s met his match and I out-jerked him.” I consult my notebook. “He said he’s giving us a discount. I thought we’d finished demolition.”

“There’s some specialist stuff that we can’t do ourselves. Yeah,” he says as he sees me turn, nostrils flared. “I swam again. I don’t know how you can always smell it.” He smells his own forearm. “I do shower after, honest.”

“So that’s why you’re halfway back to yourself. I swear, your natural state is dripping wet. To think, you couldn’t swim when we first met you. Lucky Jamie taught you.”