Page 119 of Best Friends for Never

He scoops me into his arms and carries me back to the bedroom. He drops me into bed like he did last night before taking off his clothes and sliding in next to me, tucking us both under the blanket.

I’m nearly asleep when a thought hits me.

“Wait.” I lift my head to look up at him. “You said we had big plans for the day.”

“I did.”

“Well, what are they?”

“You.”

“What?”

“You. You’re my big plan for the day. Just me, you, and this bed. Or the couch. Whichever. We can watch movies or nap, or I can let you take advantage of me. Whatever you want. You’ve been running yourself ragged. I just figured you needed a day to do nothing. That okay?”

My shoulders sink with relief. I’m not sure I could handle a day out and about. I’m tired. These last few weeks have been exhausting between juggling the renovation and the events. It’s taking a toll in ways I hadn’t even realized.

But Noel did.

Of courseNoel did.

“That sounds like heaven,” I tell him, tucking myself back to his side.

And it’s exactly how we spend the day.

I do take advantage of him ... twice.

“Are you really just sitting and looking longingly out the window?”

I sigh, my chin resting on my hand as I look out at Borgen Avenue from my spot at Rossi’s Café. “Yes.”

Noel laughs. “You look like a little kid who’s been told they can’t go out and play in the rain.”

“That’s because Ican’tgo out and play in the rain. It’s halted all construction.”

It’s Wednesday, and we’ve been waiting out the rain for two days now.

It’s frustrating because we take one step back for every step forward with the theater. There was a great turnout at the auction, then asbestos set us back two days and ten grand. Then Axel’s hand got messed up, which cost us labor hours we can’t get back. We had the bowling and trivia event where we raised a significant amount, only for it to rain nonstop for two days, and it doesn’t seem like it will clear anytime soon.

While I know this project isn’t going to happen overnight, I also feel like we’re making very little progress, and I desperately want to make progress. I’ve been dreaming of this for so long, and I just want to be done so badly. Not to mention Leonard and his “reports” on the progress.

“Is this because of Figgins’s latest article?” Noel asks, reading my mind as he sips the lavender lemonade that I got him hooked on, and just the mention of the guy has my blood boiling,

“No. Maybe. Yes.”

His lips pull up on one side. “You know he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, right? Hardly anyone reads theGazetteanyway.”

“Everyonereads theGazette, and you know it.”

But I appreciate him trying to make me feel better about Leonard’s latest dig in hisWhat’s Newsegment of the newspaper.

UnderTheater Construction? He put “nothing.”

And that was it.

Nothing!

It was like a slap in the face for everything Ihaveaccomplished even despite our setbacks. Like running two successful events with turnouts this town hasn’t seen in years. Or lining up our first production—Beauty and the Beast—to open this winter. Or all the hours I’ve spent making sure every last detail is as perfect as possible.

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