15. Ollie
Chapter 15
Ollie
Finishing a construction job is the best feeling in the world, but this one is bittersweet. What we’ve achieved here in a week is nothing short of a miracle, even with us working all hours and Mr Porter roping in every contact he has to help us get the job done quickly.
We’ve moved walls, widened doorways, installed a downstairs wetroom, and an accessible ramp outside, all so our customer can live comfortably in his home again.
I’m proud of our work, but hate that we needed to do this job at all. Now that everything is complete, there’s some other business I need to sort out, and fast.
After showering and chucking my grubby work clothes in the wash, I find Megan reading on the sofa in the living room. She looks cute and snuggly, curled up under a blanket with her weird air scent machine thing going off nearby. As soon as she clocks me, she closes her book and gets up to leave.
“Do you have plans tonight?” I ask, blocking the doorway.
“No, why?”
“I thought I could cook dinner.”
“Oh, sure,” she says, clutching her book to her chest. “I'll stay out of your way.”
“No, I'm cooking dinner for you. For us.”
I don’t miss the look of surprise on her face, even though she masks it quickly with a frown. This living situation is an absolute gift, and I’d be a fool to get kicked out just because Megan and I have gotten off to a shaky start.
“Why?”
“So you can stop hiding from me.”
“Excuse me?” she says, her cheeks flushing a little.
“If you want me to move out, just say the word and I’ll go, but if you’re avoiding me because you don’t know me, then I figure the least we can do is sit down and share a meal. You can ask me anything you want, and I can try to make up for being a dickhead this week.”
I half expect to get an earful for my language, but Megan blinks a few times and eventually nods. “OK.”
“I was thinking about pasta?”
“Sounds great.”
“Any allergies or dietary requirements? If you say you don’t eat carbs, I’ll have to rethink the whole plan.”
There’s that pretty smile again. “No requirements.”
“Great. I’m gonna go to the shop, you get back to your book and I’ll handle everything.” I tap the front cover, where a half-naked man scowls at me. “You looked like you were pretty into it.”
Megan hovers while I lace up my shoes. I grab a tote bag from where she keeps them in a box underneath the damn side table I keep bumping into.
She’s still there when I open the door to leave, so I shoo her away. “Go. Put your feet up, read, relax.”
“Would you like wine?” I poke my head out of the kitchen door, one bottle in each hand. “I didn’t know if you prefer red or white, so I got both.”
She stares up at me from her spot on the sofa, and I get a cheap thrill knowing I’ve surprised her again. “You’re not doing Dry January?”
“Fuck that. I’m not a big drinker, but I like a glass of wine with dinner.”
Her smile grows wider. “Red sounds good.”
She gets up and potters around the living room, closing the curtains, lighting a couple of candles on the dining table. It’s almost romantic, but there are candles everywhere in this place, so I’m sure dinner by candlelight is a regular occurrence.
“If you’re not much of a drinker, how come you’ve been out every night this week?” she calls through, and it takes me a second to put two and two together.
“You thought I was out drinking?” I hand her a glass, and she nods. “No, we had an extra job.”
“What job?”
“Your dad got a call about a guy who’s in a wheelchair after a car accident. He can’t come home until the downstairs of his house was accessible, so the whole crew’s been working nights to get it done.”
Her face falls. “That’s awful. I didn’t know that.”
“I know you didn’t, I haven’t seen you to tell you about it. I’ve been literally working or sleeping all week. That’s it.”
“Oh. I—” Her eyebrows pinch together and she chews at the side of her lip. I didn’t mean to make her feel bad, but she clearly doesn’t know what to say, so I break the silence for us both.
“Do you mind if I play some music while I cook?”
“Go for it.” She curls up on the sofa again, setting her wine down on the coffee table. I grab my speaker from my room, choose a random playlist, and get to work on Operation Make Megan Like Me.