Page 151 of Not That Ridiculous

“Come on.” He hauled me up the stairs after him.

I hadn’t been here for years, not since I’d helped Jasper move out. I’d been assigned small-to-medium-sized cardboard box duty. Which meant I’d huffed and puffed up and down the stairs multiple times while Jasper and a mate from the gym had handled the larger items. There wasn’t much; the flat came furnished, and the only larger items were Jasper’s TV and writing desk, and his exercise bike.

It was a bare-bones, basic little place, and?—

“Holy shit,” I said when I walked in after Kevin, still holding his hand. “What the fuck.”

Kevin turned and took my other hand, walking backwards and taking me with him. “You like?”

“It’s amazing! Did you do this?”

His cheeks darkened. “Yeah.”

It looked like a spread fromHomes & GardensorCountry Living.

The dingy pink floral wallpaper with yellow damp spots was gone, painted a soft jasmine white. I was pretty sure there hadn’t been any skirting boards or ceiling mouldings before but there were now, also white, a few shades brighter than the walls.

The greige carpet? Gone, like the wallpaper.

Nothing but lustrous, shining hardwood floors as far as the eye could see, with a grey-and-peach fringed rug in the sitting room area and another in the bedroom, which was visible from the front door, what with being only six feet away from it.

The loveseat was a velvety sage green, and green continued as an accent colour throughout, with a few more hints of peach.

The kitchenette was still tiny and still had the shitty stove and the boiler on the wall, but the boiler had been encased in a dark, latticework box, and the formica countertops had been replaced with polished black granite.

“Kevin, this is…it’s fantastic.”

“Eh. It’s a hobby.”

I stared at him.

He was a big, built, vigorous lad, standing there in jeans and boots and a sweatshirt, and I already got dizzy enough, thanks, over his arousing physical competence with DIY skills and bedroom skills. Seeing him here, surrounded by the external evidence of the sweet, sensitive man he was inside—when he wasn’t slapping battle ropes around in the gym or begging me to let him sledgehammer my walls—just about finished me off.

“So, you’re the most talented handyman in the world,” I said. “In case you were wondering. Let’s just get that one out of the way.”

He scoffed. “It’s mostly paint. Some laminate on the floors.”

“Does Marzena know you’ve done this?” Marzena was the florist and owned the building. She was a nice, if very bracing, woman.

“No? I started with the walls and got carried away?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. I don’t think she’ll be mad. In fact, don’t let her see. She’ll turf you out and start renting it out as an Airbnb.” Marzena was nice, but Marzena was also a businesswoman.

He bit his lip and shifted closer. He was still holding my hands; he gathered them both behind my back and held them there with one of his. He set his free hand on my chest, over my heart. “Can we talk some more about how much you’re in love with me?”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” I said, smiling.

He bumped his hips into mine. “Yeah.”

“So talk.”

“Youtalk.”

I lifted my eyebrows.

“Tell me again.”

“Kevin,” I said. “I love you. I have loved you for a while now.”

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