Chapter 41
Afew weeks later, I’m banging my head up against the wall, trying to get an answer from my contractor.
He’s being remarkably cagey about the mold remediation— he won’t tell me when it’s going to be finished.
Every time I ask for a specific date, he hems and haws and tells me he’ll let me know that Friday.
I feel like I’ve heard every excuse in the book at this point First there were supplier delays, then there were subcontractor scheduling conflicts.
If Mack hadn’t referred me to the guy, I would have been really upset.
But Makc keeps telling me to trust him--that if the guy says there’s a legitimate delay, then there is.
Despite how comfortable my room is at the Victorian, despite how nice my roommates are, I want to go home. For one thing, Alex isn’t living with us, anymore. He’s settled in nicely to his job and his apartment at Haven Security. For some reason, this just makes me more homesick.
Everything has changed all at once. I just want to curl up on my own sofa in front of my own television, but even that is weeks away. If the mold remediation isn’t even done, then all of the finishes are still a month out at least.
So I’m excited, but surprised one day when Mack tells me to meet me over at the house because the contractor is finally done with the mold remediation and the drywall.
I’ve been using Mack’s truck until I buy a new one, and I hop in without even changing.
I’m wearing jeans cut offs and a tank top with cheap flip-flops.
It’s the dog days of summer and this is my uniform on my days off.
When I pull into the gravel driveway, all of them mold remediation signs have been taken down from the windows, which I take is an excellent sign.
To my surprise, the outside of the house has been painted a fresh, crisp white.
The trim is a dark charcoal--exactly how I have it on my Pinterest dream board.
I frown when I see that the contractor’s truck isn’t there. Mack’s bike is, but that’s all. As I approach the front door, it’s flung open. Mack fills the doorway. Except, instead of his usual, confident grin, he gives me a smile that I can’t read.
“Is the contractor not here?” I ask as I climb the cement steps.
“He had to go, he says.
I sigh in frustration. “I thought he was going to walk me through and talk to me about the project. I swear, Mack--this guy is not as good as you said he is.”
“Just wait,” he says with a grin, then holds my front door wide open and invites me in.
I walk into a dream. Literally, my dream Pinterest board has come to life all around me. I gape.
The floors have been sealed. The wall between the kitchen and the living room is gone, just like I’d always imagined. In its place is a huge, quartz-topped island with waterfall edges. I gasp and run my fingers over the cold stone--it’s the super pricey quartz I always wanted.
The cabinets are a classic white. The sink is huge enough to bathe Mooch in. The new row of windows overlook the front yard--I can’t believe I didn’t notice them on my way in. I guess I was too excited to come in and yell at the contractor.
“What…what is this?” I say.
Mack puts his hands inside his pockets and gives a sheepish little smile. “Gabriella you’re my dream come true. I thought it was only right that I try and return the favor.”
I guess I can blame it on my shock that I hadn’t noticed the candles and the roses until now, but they’re everywhere. Red rose petals are sprinkled over the new island and in the living room, which is completely furnished with all the furniture that I never thought I’d be able to afford.
“Mack,” I say, my purse, slipping from my shoulder and hitting the ground with a thunk. I point at the living room, which looks like someone tore a sheet from a Restoration Hardware catalog. But like in a good way. “I can’t afford this.”
It’s a stupid thing to say--obviously the guy is doing something here--but it’s the first thing that escapes my mouth.
He shakes his head. “That’s not the point. I can, and I wanted to give it to you.”
“But why?” I ask.
I’m staring around in wonder at the fresh paint. Everywhere I look is amazing.
“Did someone help you with this?” I ask suddenly.
Mack shrugs. “Interior decorating is a little outside my comfort zone, so yeah, I hired a lady, But she deferred to your Pinterest board anytime she could.”
As the silence stretches on, Mack turns to me with a frown. “Do you not like it then?”
“Are you kidding? I love it.” It’s so good that I can’t even find the words to explain how good it is. “It’s perfect.”
I stare around the room again--from the kitchen that’s finally open concept, to the living room an interior designer scooped out of my brain and made even better.
“Why would you do this for me?” I finally ask.
“Because I love you,” he says simply.
“You do?” I’m so surprised that I stagger a step back.
He gives a slow, sweet smile. “Gabriella, I think I fell for you before I cracked open that first soda. You’re funny, smart, strong, feisty and loyal.
Not to mention stunningly beautiful. I started to worry that there was something wrong with me.
That I would never find what I was looking for.
But it turns out I was just waiting to meet my Nana’s nurse. ”
He drops to one knee and I guess and take another step back. I’m now flattened against the back of the front door--not because I don’t want this, but because I can’t believe that it’s happening to me.
I’ve gone my whole life always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mack is the culmination of my wildest dreams. Everything I never dared to ask for is kneeling at my feet. I wildly think that I would be an idiot not to agree with anything that he asked me.
I’m a secret nudist, he might say. Would you like to join me in my alternative lifestyle?
And I’ll of course nod and say, Yes, sure. Whatever.
Because I love him too.
But of course he doesn’t tell me he’s a nudist. Instead, he looks up at me and says, “Gabriella I love you. Will you please be my wife?”
It’s the easiest answer I’ve ever given. “Yes.”