Chapter Fifteen
Katie
Jonesy has been grumbling since the knock on the door interrupted our conversation two hours ago.
Even though he is the one who invited the dinner club over to help me work on the house.
Now that Lottie, Caleb, Alfie, and Mia are here, we’ve barely said more than a few words to each other, and I’ll be honest, I do feel a teeny-tiny bit bad for leaving him on such a cliffhanger.
But not bad enough to pull him to one side and put him out of his misery.
The girls and I have been painting the hallway whilst the boys work on finishing the drywall on the newly completed wall on the far side of the kitchen.
Once that was done, Jonesy had them learn how to tile the backsplash behind the stove, fitting each tile meticulously as if they would be graded at the end of it.
I even caught him slapping Caleb’s hand away when he tried to move it slightly, telling him he needed to get his eyes checked.
The girls have been flitting between me and the kitchen, where the boys are, for the last hour and forty-five minutes, and I’ve thought of every possible conversation topic to avoid the one I know is on the tip of their tongues.
“Right, I’ve told you everything you could know about working with Lottie, my leg is healing nicely, thank you very much, and yes, I had another run-in with Alfie’s dad because he found out it was me who sent him a glitter bomb in the mail,” Mia whisper-shouts.
“So, if no one’s going to bring it up, I’m just going to have to ask.
” Her fists rest on her hips, her arms akimbo. “What’s the story with you and Jonesy?”
Lottie swivels, her long blonde hair braided into plaits for this evening’s activities. “Oh, boy.”
Brilliant input. Thanks, Lottie.
“No story. We’ve just been working the case together, that’s all.” I run my paintbrush over the wall.
“Okay, then, why did we all get summoned here under pain of death by bickering?”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
She drops her paintbrush into the paint tray, pulling me and Lottie in so our heads are close together, and I can feel her breath tickling the end of my nose.
She looks behind her toward the kitchen before turning back to us. “His message said that if we don’t show up within the hour to help you get some renovations done, he would amp up his competitiveness at the next dinner club,” she says, eyes widening.
I look at Lottie, and she looks a little sheepish. “He’s already out of control when we play games. But we all do want to be here. It’s not just to avoid him having a meltdown.”
Mia nods, and I look over the top of her head to check that the boys aren’t listening. “He’s just sick of working on a construction site. That’s all.”
“Then why didn’t he just ask you to come to his apartment?” Lottie notes, her eyebrow raised, and damn, she’s as good as she is quick.
“Exactly. He’s trying to take care of you.
” Mia smiles, nodding enthusiastically. Having had her own share of confusing relationship drama with Alfie, she might be the best person to talk to about this.
Even more so because she hasn’t known us all very long, having only officially started dating Alfie a few months ago.
Despite the fact that they had worked together for years, it took a lot of work for Alfie to relinquish some of his rules around dating and admit that he didn’t want to be away from Mia ever again.
It was all very romantic and involved a suspenseful car chase and hospital stay, breakup, and Alfie getting so drunk he smelled like the garbage cans when the garbage men were on strike.
“I’m glad you’re getting along . . .” Lottie says quietly.
“But?”
“Not buts. I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’ve been having a rough time, and I love Jonesy, and I love you, but I’m not sure you’re good for each other.”
My heart clenches a little at her admission.
Lottie is my closest girlfriend; we’ve been best friends since we were eighteen and met on our first day of college.
All five of us have. I know that she’s trying to be gentle and caring, but it still stings that they think there’s something inherently incompatible with us.
Especially given that she knew my feelings for him before he went on his overseas tour with the army.
It was puppy love, probably, but it was still love.
I thought Jonesy and I would end up together, but life had other plans.
Mia’s eyebrows pinch together, her lips pursing before lowering her voice even more so the boys can’t overhear.
“Perhaps, as an outsider, I don’t know you or Jonesy very well yet.
But I’ve seen the way he looks at you, even before the case started.
Anytime he says anything, he looks to see your reaction first. He always finds a seat next to you, finds subtle ways to put his arm around you or sneak into your bed. ”
My eyes widen, and she laughs. “Yeah, we all know you slept in the same bed a few weeks ago.”
“He told you? We didn’t have sex!”
“Actually, I told Mia,” Lottie confesses. “And I know you didn't have sex. But still, even sleeping in the same bed is a little strange for you two.”
“I just haven’t been sleeping well since the Thomas Vale case. And him being in the room with me, I don’t know what happened, but I just relaxed. It was the first real night’s sleep I’ve had in over a year. And every night we’ve stayed together since it’s the same thing.”
“Hang on a minute.” Lottie grips my arm, squeezing her fingertips into it.
“Ow, Lottie, you have a death grip.” I clench my teeth together.
“You’ve spent the night together multiple times?”
“Yes, I knew it. Alfie owes me ten bucks.” Mia bounces up and down, silently clapping her hands together.
“Oh God. You can’t tell Alfie.”
“Oh, I think we might be past that now.” Mia juts her head toward the kitchen, and the boys are all staring at us.
Caleb is grinning ear to ear, Alfie looks like someone’s told him he has a colonoscopy first thing in the morning, and Jonesy .
. . well, Jonesy looks like he’s two seconds away from throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me upstairs just so I can clarify that I’m not in love with a serial killer.
“Let's finish this entryway, and then I’ll order pizza,” I say loud enough for the boys to hear.
“Hell yeah, I’ll order it now, though. It’ll take ages to arrive,” Caleb says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Besides, the control freak won’t let us anywhere near his precious tiles.”
He steps into the hallway, booping Lottie on the nose as she grins up at him.
Mia watches, before rolling her eyes at me like she knows more than I do about the complicated relationship between Lottie, her boyfriend, who is a literal prince, and Caleb, the guy who won’t admit he’s been madly in love with her since college.
My friends are complicated, but my heart is so full when I look around at the hallway and kitchen.
It’s not done yet, not by a long shot. But we’ve made good progress today, and I finally feel inspired to get more done.
I turn to the man who made it all happen and give him a small smile, his frown disappearing for the first time since everyone arrived.
◆◆◆
Jonesy closes the door, rubbing his hands, which still have specks of grout lingering in the lines of his knuckles.
I pick up a few empty beer bottles and the pizza boxes, heading to the kitchen, and I can’t help but smile.
The backsplash tiles are nearly done. The small plastic dividers keep the tiles in place while the adhesive sets.
Jonesy had mentioned that I should be able to grout tomorrow night or, more likely, the next day.
The dark green tiles remind me a little of Lottie’s house, a mix of the forest in the home, just like her floor-to-ceiling windows.
Jonesy follows me into the room, pulling out two beers from the fridge before twisting off the cap and handing me one. I hold his gaze as I take a sip.
He nods, pointing his beer at me before taking a pull. “Talk.”
“I’m feeling a little tired, actually,” I say, attempting to push past him, but his huge frame stops me, blocking my exit.
“Nope.”
“Can we go sit down at least?” I gaze past him, and I hear a steady breath leave him as I brush up against him.
When I take my seat on the couch, I bring my legs up, hugging my knees to my chest. The candlelight casts shadows up the unpainted walls, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow.
I’d love for this room to be finished after the kitchen.
The kitchen first for practical reasons, but then I’d love to have a relaxing space again.
A cozy fireplace in winter, throw pillows, and fluffy blankets covering the couch.
I’d put up the artwork I’ve collected over the years.
Jonesy takes a seat next to me, his arm resting on the back of the couch, his knee bent against the cushion, as his hand reaches out to rest on top of my knee.
It’s like he’s grounding me here with him, or giving himself a chance to grab me if I try to escape and avoid this conversation.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for abject embarrassment or pity.
I’m going to admit to him, and to myself, what I’ve been feeling for the last year.
“Working on the Thomas Vale case unlocked something in me that hadn’t presented itself before.” I swallow hard, watching for judgment in his eyes, but find none. “I believe after spending so long assessing him, I developed a fantasy whereby I willingly become the victim or prey.”
“Okay . . . you had a curiosity about him. You wanted to change him? Or did you want to trust him?”