Chapter 30 #2
After a few seconds, he says, “I was born into this world not as a son, but as an heir to the family title. My dad didn’t want children; he wanted a means to continue his own legacy.
Being that I’m the firstborn, I was chosen as the lucky one.
I was groomed and trained to become my dad one day, to take on the family title and keep the tradition alive.
I’m reminded of that daily by him and the way my life has turned out, so yeah, who he is and what he does affects my every day. ”
He pauses for a moment and then continues, “He will always be a part of my daily life, because he’s my father, but I can choose to let him sink his claws in or I can choose to shake it off.
Some days are better than others, but I try to move past what he’s set forth in my life and try to create and manage my own experiences. ”
“And is that what you’re doing with me? Creating and managing your own experience?”
“At first, yes, but now that I’m in the thick of it, I’d say I’m not creating or managing anything but rather just letting life be, letting myself go with the flow and experience the day-to-day.
” I couldn’t imagine being in his shoes, having my life spelled out for me like he described, so to see him just…
let it fall off his shoulders, as if it’s nothing, makes me wonder why I can’t do the same thing when it comes to my own baggage.
He picks up his hoagie and takes a bite, a smile pressing on his lips as he chews. “Shit, this is good.”
I pick up my hoagie as well and then study him for a moment, seeing him in a different light.
A man so expertly put together on the outside but slowly cracking and breaking on the inside.
He’s been so full of life, so full of joy and excitement, that I didn’t identify the hurt he’s been feeling.
I’ve almost looked past it given what I’ve been dealing with.
But sitting here with him and pushing past his lighthearted facade, I can see it.
I can see the hurt in his eyes. I can see the weariness, the exhaustion, the uncertainty.
And even though our situations might not be the same, I can relate so much with those feelings. I can weirdly see myself in him.
He glances at my hoagie and then at me. “Are you going to eat that? Because if not, let me know. I’ll open up my second stomach and make room for it.”
I smile and shake my head. “This is mine.”
“If only you said that about me.” He offers me that signature wink of his and then takes another bite of his hoagie.
Friends. That’s what we are, we’re friends. Nothing more.
Because if I give in to this feeling bubbling inside me, I have the distinct and terrifying feeling that he will hurt me.
And I can’t afford to be hurt, not when I’m barely holding on to my fragile strength.
Friends is what’s best.
Friends is what we’ll remain.
“I’ll be honest, this is harder than I expected.” Theo lifts his shirt, showing off a beautiful six-pack while wiping at his brow—it’s the fourth time he’s done that, and yes, I’ve counted.
Friends can look at friends’ ripped abs, right?
I stare at the half-torn-up tile in front of me and say, “Yeah, I think they must have used cement to glue this vinyl down. I’ve never struggled this much to tear up vinyl floors.”
“Doesn’t help that this is the third layer of vinyl flooring. Who does that? Put flooring on top of flooring on top of more flooring? I thought I felt taller in this bathroom. Now we know why.”
“It’s not uncommon to do two layers, but three, that’s something special.” I take a seat on the floor and pull my knees up to my chest. “The fan was a good idea. I think we would be roasting if we didn’t have that fan blowing air in here.”
“I might not be a handywoman like you, but I understand comfort, and two bodies in a small space working on ripping out floors was going to cause discomfort, and I don’t do discomfort.”
“Hence the foam you pulled from an old chair you found in the dumpster out back to protect your knees.”
“I’m soft, Gossy, you should know this by now. My knees have barely seen hard surfaces. Even when going down on a woman, I’m on plush carpet or a bed.”
“Oh my God,” I say with a chuckle. “You had to bring that up.”
“It’s important that you know my knees might be soft, but I’m willing to get down on any occasion.” He holds up his hands. “And thank God for these gloves, or else I’d be whimpering in the corner, clutching my palms and asking, God, why?”
“Still wondering why I had you come help me.”
“Can’t get enough of me, I get it. When I look at myself in the mirror, I think the same thing. Hard to pull away from the reflection.”
“You might want to tone down your ego. You won’t be able to fit through the doorway.”
He looks over at the door and then purses his lips. “Nah, I’ll get through there.”
“Ridiculous,” I mutter as I turn back to the floor. “Are we ready to see if there is anything under this flooring?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if we don’t.”
“Then let’s get to it.” I take my crowbar and wedge it against the wall to flip it under the flooring, peeling back just enough of a chunk to wedge the crowbar further.
And then with one big effort, I tug the crowbar back and reveal hardwood flooring.
“Oh my God,” I say, peeling some more back. “It’s hardwood.”
“What? My wood’s not hard right now. See?” He gestures to his lap and I give him the biggest side-eye I can muster.
“I was not talking about you.”
He chuckles. “I know, but that was fun.”
“Can you focus for a second, please? Look, we have hardwood floors under this vinyl.”
He leans over my shoulder, his chest grazing my back. “Would you look at that. Do you think you could actually use it though?”
“There seems to be some water damage in this corner, but we might be able to work with that. Help me with the rest and then we can see.”
We spend the next few hours peeling and scraping the last of the vinyl flooring off until we’re left with maple flooring covered in glue remnants that are crisscrossed all over it.
“Why would they put vinyl over this?” Theo asks, running his hand over the floor.
“There was a period of time where designers hated on hardwood floors, so this must have been that time.”
“Such a shame. Is this herringbone?”
“It is,” I say, proud he knows that.
“Do you think you can save it?”
“I can give it a good shot.” I grab a steel spatula and carefully run it across the glue, trying to peel it up. When I see that I make some progress, I hand him a spatula as well and say, “Start scraping.”
“Sheesh, my forearms are on fire.”
“Notice how I haven’t complained at all since we started doing this?”
“And like I said, you’re tougher than me, Gossy.”
“If you’re not enjoying yourself, you can leave.”
He shakes his head. “This has actually been the most fun I’ve had in a while.
I like seeing that I can make a change. The complaining is just because I’m weak.
But I’ll grow tougher as time goes on. Just watch, I’ll go from a wealthy aristocrat to a rough-and-tumble construction worker who wears orange vests and rubs his nipples before taking on a job. ”
“Do you really think they rub their nipples?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“You’re so strange.”
“And yet you choose to hang out with me,” he says, helping me scrape the glue off the floor.
“No, you have forced yourself upon me.”
“Uh, don’t like that phrasing. Also, you’re the one who made the rule that you want to be friends, so…what does that say about you?”
I sit cross-legged, facing him. “That you’ve worn me down so much with your incessant need to be near me that in some weird way it has brainwashed me into making poor decisions.”
“Wow, quite the story you’re spinning yourself. And if you want to believe that, that’s your choice, but I’ll know the real truth.”
“Uh-huh, and what is that?”
“You’re the one that seduced me into this pseudo-friendship.”
“Me?” I ask, pointing to my chest. “How on earth did I seduce you?”
“By matching with me on Fiance-er dot com. You’re the one that started this all.”
“You could have walked away after realizing that I was looking for a financier rather than a fiancé,” I point out.
“Oh no, the minute I learned that you messed the two words up, I was invested. I had to see how it all played out. So this all falls on you. Gossy, it’s you, you’re the problem.”
I shake my head. “Keep believing that.”
“I will. I’ll sleep well knowing that we had this conversation and if anyone is to blame, it’s you.”
“Okay, Theo.”
He nudges me with his spatula and when I look up at him, he says, “Isn’t our banter fun?”
I hate that I laugh. “You’re soooooo annoying.”
“Yeah, but you like it.”
Sadly, I do.