Chapter 3
Kate
As I sit in the truck watching Brody shovel the snow, I replay the day in my head. I woke up this morning thinking I’d be Cam’s wife and now we’re not even dating. He’ll probably never speak to me again, especially when he finds out what I did to his car.
It was the right decision , I tell myself.
Sure, we had some good times, but Cam just wasn’t the guy for me.
I could feel it in my heart, in my soul.
But for months I ignored those feelings, choosing instead to believe what everyone told me—that Cam was a great guy who would make a wonderful husband.
Brody opens my door, snow flying off his hat and coat, his face red from the cold. ‘I made a path for you to walk.’ He nods toward the open garage door. ‘Go ahead and go in.’
‘That’s okay. I can wait.’
‘You sure? It’s warmer in the house.’
‘I’m good.’ I smile at him. ‘But thanks.’
He closes the door and gets back to shoveling.
He’s a good- looking guy, in a rugged, outdoorsy type of way.
He’s wearing a black coat with a flannel shirt underneath and faded jeans that are torn on the bottom.
Cam wouldn’t be caught dead wearing flannel, and if his jeans were torn, he’d throw them out.
He believes how you dress affects how people see you, and since he strives to appear successful, his clothes reflect that.
He buys the most expensive brands and if something doesn’t fit him perfectly, he gets it tailored.
His polished look is what originally drew me to him, but then I started dating him and became annoyed at how long it took him to get ready. He took longer than me.
Brody’s in front of the truck now, clearing a path wide enough to pull the truck into the garage.
There must be at least a foot of snow piled up, and it’s the heavy, wet kind.
Brody pushes the shovel through it like it’s no effort at all, then scoops it up and tosses it in a pile at the edge of the driveway.
As he returns to the front of the truck, he glances up at me and smiles.
I smile back, feeling a little guilty I’m sitting here in the warm truck while he’s out there freezing to death. But he’s probably used to the cold if his job is cleaning up snow.
As he continues to shovel, I look at his house.
It’s a small, one-story house with light gray siding and black shutters.
The colors are kind of drab. It’d look better painted a grayish blue with the door painted black to match the shutters, or red for a punch of color.
I feel a surge of excitement imagining it.
I always get this way when I think about how I’d make something over.
I’m obsessed with those home design shows.
I like to imagine what I would do if I were the designer transforming someone’s house.
I wanted to study design in college, but my parents never would’ve allowed it.
They demanded I pick a major that would lead to a good-paying career.
So I majored in business and got a job doing financial planning for small businesses.
The pay is great, but I don’t like the job.
I used to tell myself it was only temporary, just until I married Cam and we had our first child.
Now that’s not happening and I’m already dreading having to return to work in three weeks, the time I took off for the honeymoon I’m not going on.
Brody opens the truck door. ‘Okay, we should be good now.’ He tosses the shovel in the back, gets in the driver’s seat, and pulls the truck into the garage.
As the garage door closes, I get out and meet Brody at the door that goes to the house.
‘Remember a guy lives here,’ he says.
‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning it’s not clean. And I don’t decorate.’
‘I’m sure it’s fine.’ I follow him inside to the laundry room, which is just inside the door. A coat and some shoes are on the floor, like Brody just tossed them there. He takes off his coat and hat and sets them on top of the washing machine.
‘You can leave your shoes here to dry off,’ he tells me.
Holding onto the washing machine for balance, I reach down and take off my shoes.
Brody laughs when he sees my sneakers. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘I wore them to the church this morning,’ I explain as I look for a place to put them. ‘I didn’t want to walk through the snow in heels.’
‘Here.’ Brody takes my sneakers and tosses them on the floor, then goes around me to the hall .
It leads to the living room, where there’s a black leather couch that looks old and worn. In front of it is a wood table that’s scratched up on top. Next to the couch is a black chair that looks like it reclines.
‘It’s not much,’ Brody says. ‘But it’s good enough for me.’
He walks to the kitchen, which is open to the living room but has a row of base cabinets dividing it.
The cabinets are light oak and give the place a dated feel.
My mind’s already imagining the kitchen with updated cabinets, maybe ones in a dark-stained maple.
Next to the kitchen is a small dining area with a table and four chairs.
The table is covered with mail that hasn’t been opened.
‘You want something to drink?’ Brody asks, opening one of the cupboards and taking out a glass.
‘No, thanks,’ I tell him.
He turns to the sink and fills the glass with water. ‘The bedrooms are just down the hall. Go ahead and pick one. Just not the big one. That’s mine.’
‘Aren’t you going to give me a tour?’ I ask, standing by the couch.
He turns back, setting the glass down. ‘You want a tour? There’s not much to see.’
‘I feel kind of odd walking around your house without you showing me around first, like I’m overstepping my boundaries.’
He walks over to me, laughing a little. ‘There’s no boundaries. Do what you want. Help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen. Take a shower. Watch TV. As long as you don’t trash the place, I don’t care what you do.’
I’m not used to that. When I was first dating Cam and went to his apartment, he laid out a list of rules to follow before I even went through the door.
Rules about where my shoes and coat go, what I was allowed to have in his fridge, what I could and couldn’t touch on his shelves, what towels to use in the bathroom, and the list went on.
I went along with it, telling myself he just knew what he wanted.
But later, after I moved in with him, it felt controlling.
We were sharing an apartment and I still had to follow his ridiculous rules.
‘You coming?’ Brody asks. He’s standing in the hallway and I’m still by the couch.
‘Oh. Yeah, sorry, my mind wandered.’ I walk over to him.
We go down to the bedrooms and Brody points to one of them. ‘That’s mine. It’s a mess. I’m not great at cleaning, especially my room.’
It’s not that messy, just some clothes on the floor and stuff piled up on his dresser. It’s what I’d expect for a guy living alone. Most guys aren’t like Cam, obsessed with having everything neat and clean.
‘These are the guest rooms,’ Brody says, continuing to the two smaller rooms at the end of the hall. Only one of the rooms has a bed. It’s a twin bed with a quilted blanket on it. Next to it is a small nightstand, but that’s it for furniture.
‘I’ll take this one,’ I say, motioning to the room with the bed.
‘You sure you don’t want this one?’ Brody smiles as he points to the other room, which is filled with tools and building supplies. ‘You could help me out with some projects if you can’t sleep.’
I go past him into the room. ‘So what exactly are you working on? ’
‘Everything,’ he says, sighing, as he joins me in the room. ‘The place needs to be totally redone if I want to sell it.’
‘Have you hired a designer yet?’ I ask, looking around the room. ‘Because they should be getting involved now, before you do too much.’
Brody laughs. ‘Designer? Yeah, I don’t have money for that.’
‘You should seriously consider hiring someone, even if it’s just on a consulting basis. Their advice could make you a lot more money when you go to sell the house.’
‘How is having someone put knick-knacks on a shelf going to make me more money?’
‘Designers do more than that. They can help you pick paint colors, cabinet pulls, the tiles for a floor or backsplash. Those details are the things that really sell a house.’
‘How would you know?’ Brody asks, folding his arms over his chest.
‘I’ve watched hundreds of hours of home makeover shows. People really do make more money when a home has the right colors on the wall and is staged right.’
‘Staged? What’s that?’
‘It’s making the house look finished, like adding furniture and rugs and putting stuff on tables. It’s more of the decorating stuff, the last minute touches that really make a house feel like a home people want to live in.’
He eyes me. ‘Do you work in real estate?’
‘No, I’m just really into those home shows. I couldn’t wait to get my own house that I could design however I wanted, but now—’ I stop, not wanting to talk about, or think about, the future I’ll no longer have now that I’m not with Cam .
‘You can still get a house,’ Brody says. ‘You don’t need to be married to buy a house.’
‘You do in Chicago. Do you know how much houses cost there? I have a good job, but I don’t make enough to afford a house on my own.’
‘What do you do?’
‘Financial planning for small businesses.’
‘Sounds boring.’
I stare at him, shocked that he said that. That’s something people might think, but wouldn’t say. But I’m finding Brody isn’t like other people, at least not people I know.
‘Sorry,’ he says, smiling at what I’m guessing is a look of annoyance on my face. ‘It just doesn’t sound all that interesting, but I’m sure it is if you’re into that sort of thing.’
‘Honestly, it’s not that interesting, but it pays well and has good benefits.’
‘I’m gonna go find something to eat,’ Brody says. ‘You want anything?’
‘No. I think I’m going to take a shower. I need to get out of this dress and warm up.’