Page 50 of Henhouse
Brayden popped the caps off a couple of beers with the Leathermanmulti-tool that had become a permanent fixture in his front pocket since he started renovating the house. He handed one to Theo who lounged against the wall, splattered in a pale green paint. Brayden sat beside him with a sigh, looking around the room. He was grateful Effie was busy and he could steal his friend for the night. It felt like weeks since they’d done anything just the two of them—even if house projects weren’t their standard Friday night fare.
The maple floors had been restored, a few dark stains still mingled with the lighter tones of the raw wood, but Brayden thought the blemishes added character. The slight sheen of the wax over top preserved the restoration and showcased the beauty of the house’s scars. Tall white baseboards lined the floor, and Brayden was grateful for Theo’s steady hand. He’d cut in around the trim and intricate crown molding that Brayden had already hung. They were pristinely painted in an antique white, and not a drop of the green from Theo’s brush tarnished those trim boards. It was impressive.
Brayden had to take his wins where he could get them.
A couple of months ago, he thought it would be him and Hope sharing a drink at the end of a long painting day. Instead, Theo helped him pick a shade of green that was warm and inviting and could be combined with whatever blues or pinks or yellows made their way into the room after the baby arrived.
Empty paint cans littered the drop cloth piled in the corner. Theo had shoved them aside when they finished the last coat, insisting they got in the way of Brayden seeing the full picture of the finished room—a room always destined to be a nursery. He’d thought it the first time he saw the house after he bought it at auction, sight unseen.
But this wasn’t how he imagined decorating it.
It wasn’t how he imagined moving in.
The certificate of occupancy had arrived at Theo’s apartment the day before. Brayden should have been thrilled, but instead, he was barraged with the pang of heartache and loss of the life he’d always imagined. It didn’t help that he had very few belongings—most left behind to Chloe and the condo—and needed to furnish the nearly four-thousand-square-foot house within a matter of a couple months to be a home worthy of his baby.
“I’m sorry it’s not someone else here beside you,” Theo said, and Brayden felt the sincerity in his voice.Someone else.Once it had been Chloe, when this whole project started. Then it was Hope. Now it would be Brayden’s baby, however frequent that was. He’d need another lawyer soon probably ...
“I’m not,” Brayden remarked and it was only half a lie. Theo was his best friend, and it was infinitely better to have him wielding a paintbrush beside him than to be there alone. He couldn’t bear the pity in his moms’ eyes to allow them to come help, though they’d been fairly insistent. “I never have to wonder how you feel about me. That’s uh ... that’s huge for me.”
Theo took a pensive sip, nodding his understanding. Something about the fleeting nature of friendships and relationships left Brayden uneasy. Like everyone teetered on the precipice of becoming people he used to know—except Theo.
Brayden scrubbed his face.
Fall in love, get married, start a family, be happy. It seemed easy enough way back when. What he hadn’t realized was that the road to bliss was littered with emotional minefields. Only Theo paralleled Brayden’s journey—always en route together. He knew, regardlessof their romantic relationships or families, that would never change. He was the brother Brayden never had.
“I love you,” Brayden said thinking it might sound weird or out of the blue as they sat there drinking local IPAs on the floor of his baby’s room in the mini mansion he’d live in alone for the foreseeable future.
But instead, Theo wrapped his arm around Brayden’s shoulder and tugged him tight against his side. “I love you too, bud.” And that’s why Theo was his best friend. “Will I get to be Uncle Theo?”
“Seems like you’ll be Bug’s only uncle. Hope you’re up to the task.”
“Don’t I look ready?” Theo asked opening his arms wide to highlight his commitment to Bug, already evident in his paint-covered clothes and light-hearted smile.
“Touché.” Brayden laughed. He looked around the room, the reality of needing furniture making him uneasy. “Do you think it would be weird to ask Hope for help getting furniture? I mean, she’s probably going to be here a lot and I want this place to feel like a home. Not like a bachelor’s house.”
Theo gave him a loaded look before innocently asking, “Do you think it would be weird?”
Brayden shrugged.Probably. There was still so much that needed to be said, so much he needed to understand about how they got here. He wasn’t sure what the future looked like, but it needed to include more than the futon and IKEA dresser that occupied his storage unit.
If Brayden had learned anything over the last four years it was that he had to stop making plans. They always unraveled. No, Hope, his baby, his home, they had to be taken day by day. They had to be played by ear, if only to keep him from falling apart all over again.
27
Effie wandered around Glitter & Glue with a cart of her own during a lull. Louisa needed a number of items for the ball and was desperate to find them locally, so whenever people asked about the decor or the food or the dance cards she could point to an artisan or business from Portsmouth instead of directing friends and family to an Amazon link.
The rows of ribbons were a rainbow of colors and patterns, but the white lace Effie wanted for Pamela’s tablecloth project evaded her. It should have been restocked a few weeks ago, but she struggled to find it. “Basil, could you check the inventory for the brocade lace ribbon?”
“Can’t you check it with your eyes?”
“I need to know if we sold it all, I’m not finding it!”
“Oh fine,” Basil said, sighing, and Effie heard the clink of knitting needles against the laminate countertop.
“Thank you!” Effie crooned as she rounded the corner to a different aisle, grabbing packages of paper doilies and parchments for hertreats, and adding them to her cart. It already brimmed with bolts of cotton, heavy cardstock with an iridescent shimmer, floral foam, and wire, along with mountains of gold paint. She grabbed a couple of specialty icing tips from the rack before her, intent on trying a few new designs with her shortbread frosting and her cupcakes.
“Computer says there should be six fifty-yard rolls!”
Effie scowled but turned her cart back toward the ribbon. “Then where—” Effie spotted them at the bottom row. The spool was weighty as she turned it over in her hand pondering before adding it and four more to her cart. She rolled her haul to the register and Basil’s reproachful stare.
