Chapter Fourteen
Miles
Miles dropped Avery’s hand because the last time he’d touched her, she’d let him down softly, as if he were an egg.
The gentle thank you for being my friend hadn’t stopped his shell from cracking.
If staying friends mattered so much, he wanted to know why she’d kissed him.
The only certainty was this house had once held their dreams. Those dreams depended on them being together.
Currently, they drifted in an undefined space between ghosted silence and reconciliation.
Every time they took a step forward, she put up the friend wall, deepening his frustration.
Once inside, Casper plodded behind and sniffed everything until he found the ideal napping spot in a patch of sun.
Given Miles owned only a couple pieces of furniture, there were plenty of choices.
No Boa sofa, just his full-size childhood bed in an upstairs bedroom and a small card table in the kitchen nook.
From the second Avery removed her Vanderbilt baseball hat and placed it on the counter, her eyes never stopped sparkling.
She gushed over the massive stone fireplace and mentioned the house had “good bones.” The short tour ended back in his kitchen, and Miles wanted her to stay.
Picking a backsplash while a dog slept under a sunny window, making blueberry pancakes on Saturday mornings, doing the Sunday Times crossword. He’d give her anything she wanted.
He selected two small glass bottles of chocolate milk from the refrigerator and handed her one.
She removed the cap and raised her bottle in a toast.
“To your new memories in this old house. May they be happy.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.” He clinked bottles with hers, drank, and let out his signature “Ahh” after his first sip.
She ran her hand over the white granite and traced a gold vein with her fingernail. “The counters came out beautifully.”
“I love them. Thanks for the help.” He rinsed their bottle caps and set them on a towel beside the sink.
Avery crossed to his side and carefully laid out the backsplash samples, holding each one up to see how it matched other things in the kitchen. Miles watched as she discarded two, one of which he’d previously deemed a frontrunner.
“Mimi always said decorating a room is like learning to play the piano,” she said as she propped the remaining tiles along the back of the counter. “It gets more complicated as you go. But you’ll know when you’ve got it right.”
He’d only met Mimi for a weekend, when she’d visited Montressa ten years ago, but Miles loved how Mimi’s charm enabled her to get away with telling the truth. Mimi had sensed Miles and Avery’s connection immediately.
“Mimi is the only grandmother I know who passed out condoms to her grandchildren.” Miles chuckled and watched Avery’s face flush.
“Only once.” Avery concentrated on the samples. “We were an anomaly.”
“I feel special,” he said into the bottle’s edge before taking a sip. “Every time I tell that story, it brings down the house.”
“Miles, I swear.” She shook her head and covered her eyes. Ah, her southern accent. He had flustered her enough to stretch out the long “I” in his name.
He gave her a second to let the blush fade from her cheeks.
When she regained her composure, Avery returned to the serious work of picking the backsplash.
He recognized the same pensive face she made when she couldn’t decide what color to use next in a painting.
She narrowed her eyes and shifted side to side, assessing the samples from different angles.
Miles scanned her profile. Pretty eyelashes, simple stud earrings, and full lips, twisted in thought.
Those lips had fueled his fantasies the past few nights. HHe wanted to kiss her again. Linger for a while. Explore her everywhere. Unaware of his desire, Avery started talking about ceramic versus glass tile.
He sighed and came back to the present moment.
She discarded another sample, propped the remaining choices against the wall on the opposite side of the kitchen, and settled next to him. They both stared at the samples. It made him feel better to see her struggling with a task Wes described as easy peasy.
“Why is this hard? I just want to eat my Cocoa Puffs and like my kitchen.” He picked up one of the milk bottle caps and idly fiddled with it.
“They’re all bland and impersonal.” She tilted her head in thought. “Your house should give people a glimpse of you. That’s why these don’t work.”
He twirled the bottle cap through his fingers.
He wasn’t sure how a grouping of tiles could say anything about him, and he didn’t care about the backsplash.
He’d told her how he’d sought her out in crowds, but there was more.
For ten years, he had regretted those five minutes in the parking lot.
Finally admitting that might change how she felt.
Or it might rip the bandage off old wounds.
Avery picking his backsplash kept her here in the Red House. It was too perfect a moment to tarnish.
Miles cringed when Avery’s attention shifted to the tie he’d worn on Bright and Early last week, discarded on the counter. She picked it up and examined the tag. Chanel. That was how she saw him. Tom Ford suits. Red carpets. The Boa couch. Proof of a glamorous life he wasn’t sure he belonged in.
“It was free,” he said, as if that made it any better. “My date wore one of their dresses, and I was told I needed to match.”
“It’s lovely,” she said, folding it neatly and putting it back.
Not as lovely as that kiss. Not as lovely as this house he might never have thought twice about if it hadn’t been for her.
He needed to convince her the life he wanted was here, in this cozy A-frame, with her in it.
If he nudged her back to that, maybe she’d discover the small-town guy she once loved.
“Thank you.” Avery cleared her throat. “For your much-needed perspective the night Casper bolted. I have moments where I feel so, I don’t know. Lost? Misunderstood? Typically, I’m a firm believer in fixing my own problems. You inspired me to envision what I want.”
“That’s my girl,” he blurted out. A split second later, he realized he hadn’t intended to sound possessive, or imply he expected her to please him.
“I, um, that came out wrong.” He leaned against the counter. “I meant you should, um, do it. One question: Do you know what you want?”
“Um, no?” She giggled and her nose crinkled. “I mean, it’s hard to pick one of my brilliant ideas. Give me some time, Magrum.”
The flirty swat of the back of her hand on his biceps coupled with the playful use of his last name, which she had never done, and no one ever did, felt like a victory.
“You and I were stars that night.” He lightly poked her arm with the bottlecap’s edge. “We found a dog no one knew was missing.”
He nodded at Casper, who contentedly snored away in a sun-washed slumber.
Avery picked up her milk bottle, her eyes almost melancholy. She traced a drip of sweat down her bottle with her thumb. He let her sit with her thoughts for a moment, but as the pause grew, he wondered if he should fill the void.
With a snap of his hand, Miles flicked the milk bottle top he’d been fiddling with across the kitchen and into a red basket on top of the fridge that came from the house he grew up in.
Time had frayed the edges and faded the red to pink.
It reminded him of simpler times with his mom and dad.
The milk top plunked off the top edge and fell inside.
“You still collect those?” She nodded at the basket.
“Ayuh, out of habit.” He couldn’t help but smile. “They switched from metal caps to plastic a couple of years ago. Over the years, I collected thousands of metal ones. I kept those, but I recycle the plastic ones because they aren’t as cool.”
“Where are they?”
Miles disappeared into the mudroom and came back with a plastic bin filled with metal milk bottle caps. Maybe seeing them would erase her impressions of the tie and sofa.
“Dad dropped them off when he and Lily’s mom moved to a single-floor house a year ago. I should recycle them, but it feels like throwing out my past. It’s silly.”
Avery dug through the box and carefully laid caps on the counter in neat lines. Linden Dairy’s milk bottle caps had a large gold star on top. Each point reached the edge rimmed in tiny stars.
“There it is.” She swept a hand above the caps like a game show host showing off a prize package.
“What?” All she had done was place them in neat, offset rows.
“Your backsplash.”
Miles lifted an eyebrow. She wanted him to display what others would have thrown away.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She laughed and pointed at the caps. “You love stars. They’re from your milk, your past. These are the story of you. And the gold stars match the veining in the countertops. I am not leaving until you tell me I’m right.”
She dug through the box and pulled out one with a red star.
“Why is this one red?”
“Oh, they used to do special caps at Christmas. I have more.”
At that, she danced in place.
“Excellent. The red ones can form a star pattern over the stove to pull out the red in your cabinets. Damn, Miles, your kitchen will be amazing.”
If he had hired Avery to decorate his penthouse, he wouldn’t have bought that ridiculous sofa, and he would have had more fun.
“Perfection!” Avery snapped him back to the present. “Remember, you gave me right of first refusal when you sell.”
“Well, I haven’t said yes to this zany bottle-cap backsplash idea.” He winked.
“But you will.” She put a hand on her hip. “Right?”
He smiled at her and said nothing. She held on to both his wrists and shook them. He resisted for the fun of the flirt.
“Okay, okay. I will.” He watched her face bloom with excitement. “And I think you learned how to play Chopin on the piano today. Mimi would be so proud.”