Page 104 of Seven Year Itch
I like who we are on Fletcher Mountain. We’re carefree but focused. Yeah, we bicker and pick at each other, but we actually hear one another, and the sex is incredible. I’m not ready for the finish line.
Steve Harvey’s voice cuts into my musings confirming that not even one of my guesses were right. I stick out my tongue at Calder. “Better to try and fail than never try at all.”
His forehead lifts knowingly, and my head jerks when I realize I’ve just possibly admitted that marrying Randal could be perceived as a good thing. That is not a parallel I want to draw today. Although I did get a very good email from my lawyer a couple days ago telling me that Randal was withdrawing his request to reopen our divorce settlement to change my payment schedule, so that was some good news. And thankfully, Randal hasn’t called to complain about it or gloat about his new girlfriend. And even more thankfully... I don’t give a flying fuck about his new lady. How’s that for growth?
Among some other good news is the fact that Calder has sold three of his furniture pieces from my website. When I told him about the orders, he looked like a kid on Christmas morning. He instantly started stressing about the fact that they needed a fresh coat of varnish before he could take them to my fulfilment facility where the crew was going to work on how best to package and ship them.
“I can’t believe someone in Canada bought this giant porch swing,” Calder says as he steps away from me to get back to work. “The shipping cost is insane. Who has this kind of money?”
“People know a good thing when they see it,” I reply with a smile. “Have you given any thought to that email I forwarded you?”
He blows out a long breath. “Nah, not yet. Not really. I mean... a little.”
A boutique home-goods store in Denver reached out to my website to see if they could feature Calder’s furniture in their showroom. They have a decent consignment split, and what Calder would lose in direct sales he’d gain in exposure and being able to sell locally.
“It sounds kind of nice to just drive all my pieces over there and dump them off when they’re done,” he says, gripping the back of his neck. “I could really use the space in here, and I feel bad freeloading off your fulfilment company. If this became a long-term thing, I’d need to figure out something more permanent. If I sayyesto this offer... I wouldn’t have to mess with any of that.”
“That’s definitely a perk.” I try to keep my opinion to myself as he works through this, which is crazy hard. When Calder told me the profit margin he’ll make on this stuff, my head exploded. This is what he’s meant to be doing with his life!
“But I’d also have to commit to providing a set number of pieces every month based on supply and demand.” He runs his hand through his hair, his mind whirring with information overload. “That’s a bigger commitment that I’m maybe not ready for.”
“Why aren’t you ready for that?’
“Cuz of my dad’s construction business. Wyatt and Luke can’t operate without me.”
“Have you asked them?”
He rolls his eyes. “I know what they’d say.”
I purse my lips and glare at him. I wish Calder believed in himself half as much as he believes in me. My eyes drift over to my two shelving units that are glossy from the fresh coat of varnish he applied earlier tonight. They are going to look so good in my store, and I already have new inventory to fill them up. And I had no notes for him when he showed them to me tonight. He kept asking me over and over, telling me that he assumed I would have tweaks. But he assumed wrong. I love them. And I love him for making them for me.
My face heats with the words in my head. I don’t lovehim... obviously. I just love what he did for me. What he continues to do for me. He’s become a genuine friend through our little PowerPoint sex-periment, which is unexpected and so appreciated. Hopefully we’ll be able to stay friends when we end this so when we inevitably see each other around, it won’t be horrible.
“I’m picking you up at six tomorrow, right? You’re sure that’s early enough? I can ditch work earlier if I need to,” Calder asks, redirecting my attention from the TV back to him.
“Yes, but you really don’t have to come,” I whine, my stomach swirling with anxiety. “You have to wear a suit and pretend you like me.”
“Oh God... what a nightmare,” he mock-grumps.
“I will be a nightmare.” I pull my legs up to sit crisscross. “I’m going to be nervous and awkward and stressed and probably take it all out on you.”
He shrugs. “So basically... how you act most days of the week.”
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes and chew my lip nervously. “I really don’t mind going to this awards ceremony alone. That was always my plan. It’s so businessy and lame. It’s barely a thing.”
He sets his paintbrush down and walks back over to me, guiding my legs down to resume his space between them. “But if I’m not there, who will heckle you when you accept your award and make sure you stay humble?” He presses a soft kiss to my lips that has me seeing stars before he says, “We don’t want all that success going to your head so you think you can actually fuck the patriarchy.”
Clenching my teeth, I slide my hands forward to wrap around his neck and shake him. An odd noise bubbles up from him as he laughs and squeezes my sides, sending me into a fit of giggles.
“Is everyone decent? I’m not going to see any body parts that will haunt me until the end of time, am I?” Trista calls out, walking in with her hand over her eyes.
“We’re not naked... yet,” Calder murmurs the last part, shooting me a heated look as Trista walks in, taking in the workshop with wide, eager eyes.
“So, this is the sex shack I’ve been hearing so much about.”
“Sex shack?” I exclaim, turning a confused look to Trista.
She holds her hands up defensively. “That’s just what Wyatt told me.”
