Chapter Four #3
She sat across from me and picked up the first page.
“You use paper for everything?”
“It works without service.”
“That’s annoyingly practical.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
Talia read the dates, checked which jobs had matching receipts, and placed a finger on one estimate.
“This customer requested the work before the others.”
“He also said it wasn’t urgent.”
“Then why did you write Friday beside it?”
“He called again.”
“Did the risk change?”
“No.”
“Did his impatience?”
“Yes.”
She slid the paper back to me. “You could keep the original date. Then he can wait until Tuesday.”
I held her gaze.
Talia lifted both hands. “I’m only pointing it out.”
I crossed out Friday and wrote the following Tuesday.
She smiled.
We worked until the last of the evening light faded from the windows. Talia checked dates while I wrote the new estimate.
She caught two missing receipts and pointed out one job I’d agreed to fit into an already full day.
When we finally stood, the cabin had cooled enough that I shut one window.
Talia came up behind me and slipped her arms around my waist.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Thanking you.”
“For changing one date?”
“For letting me help.”
I turned in her arms.
“I didn’t know there was a reward.”
“It’s a hug.”
“That’s more acceptable.”
She lifted her chin. “You can kiss me too.”
I did.
By Thursday evening, Talia’s belongings had spread through the cabin.
Toiletries lined one corner of the bathroom counter.
She sat on the kitchen counter in denim shorts and the cropped black T-shirt from Mabel’s, one heel tapping softly against the cabinet. Diamonds flashed at her ears and throat. Her curls were piled on top of her head, though several had escaped around her face.
I stood between her knees while she stole pieces of cheese from the plate beside her.
“You know I was cutting that for dinner,” I said.
“I’m preventing spoilage.”
“It’s been out for two minutes.”
“Mountain conditions are unpredictable.”
I took the next piece before she could reach it.
Talia narrowed her eyes. “That was hostile.”
“You’ve eaten half of it.”
“I’m contributing to portion control.”
I held the cheese near her mouth.
She leaned forward and took it from my fingers.
She brushed her lips over my skin.
I rested one hand on her bare thigh.
Talia tilted her head.
“You’re thinking again,” she said.
“I do that.”
“You become quiet in a specific way.”
“I’m usually quiet.”
“Not like this.”
I moved my thumb once against her thigh. “What do you want to know?”
“If having me here didn’t mean losing your freedom, what would you want?”
I glanced past her toward the main room.
Her handbag sat on the table beside my work folder. One of her gold bracelets rested near the sink because she’d removed it while helping with dinner.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“That isn’t true.”
“It’s the answer I can give you.”
Talia waited.
I wanted her things to remain where they were.
I wanted to leave for work and know she’d be at the cabin when I returned. I pictured her arguing with my refrigerator, asking questions at job sites, moving the pillow out of our way, and filling quiet rooms I’d built to hold one person.
I nearly asked her to stay. I didn’t know what I’d be asking her to give up.
“The town celebration is Saturday,” I said.
She tightened her grip on the edge of the counter.
“I know.”
“You bought the dress for it.”
“I bought the dress because it fit.”
“Do you want to go?”
“Yes.”
“I have to check the cleared area around the fireworks site before the crowd gets there. I’ll also have to stay after the display to watch for sparks.”
“So you’re working.”
“Part of the day.”
“I can occupy myself without entering an active fireworks zone.”
“I wasn’t worried about that.”
“You looked concerned.”
“I was thinking about how long the day will be.”
Talia lowered her eyes to my hand on her thigh.
“I can handle a long day.”
“I believe you.”
She nodded, but the movement didn’t loosen her grip on the counter.
“What happens when the celebration is over?” I asked.
She met my gaze.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve talked about staying through the week. You haven’t said what you’re doing Sunday.”
“I haven’t decided.”
“You had a working phone and a way home four days ago. You decided not to use it.”
“That was a decision about that day.”
“What changes on Saturday?”
Talia slid off the counter.
I stepped back to give her room.
She crossed to the table and adjusted her handbag strap even though the bag wasn’t open.
“I’m asking because I need to understand what you want,” I said.
“You said you didn’t want responsibility for choices you never asked me to make.”
“I still don’t.”
“Then why does my next choice matter?”
“Because you matter.”
She went still.
Talia turned to face me.
“You matter too.”
“Then tell me whether you’re staying.”
“I can’t give you an answer yet.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
She pressed her lips together.
“Both.”
I waited.
Talia turned toward the bedroom.
The fitted red dress hung from the door, ready for the celebration.
“Ask me again after the Fourth,” she said.
“Why after the Fourth?”
She kept looking at the dress and didn’t answer.