Ann Aguirre - As Long As You Love Me

I kept my tone level as I changed the subject. “How about this? We work on remodeling until we’re tired. Then we rest and tackle your budget. When you get sick of that, we resume sanding or whatever.”

“I can’t take up all your time,” he protested.

“What’s a month? I need to keep busy or I’ll doubt my decision to come home.”

“It’s a deal. I’ll have your bed done by next week.”

“Do you deliver?”

“If you need me to.”

So many things I could say. But I forced myself not to be flirty. That was mostly a front anyway, manufactured to keep guys from figuring out how weird and awkward I could be. Left to my own devices, I’d rather watch llama gifs than go to a club. Ironic, since I’d learned all kinds of moves from music videos on the internet. Nadia thought I’d suddenly blossomed in tenth grade, but everything I knew about hair and makeup, I’d learned from YouTube tutorials. I could fake being a regular girl, but really, I was still besties with my laptop and PlayStation, which helped me perfect mad dance skills through gaming.

I grinned. “Considering I’d have to carry it home from your place, yeah.”

“Okay. When do you want to start with this trade-off?”

“Tomorrow?” I suggested.

“Is nine too early?”

With résumés turned in, I had nothing else to do. “Nope. Do you mind picking me up?”

“Not at all.” Rob headed for the door because our business was done, but he paused, wearing a faint frown. “Don’t wear anything cute.”

“Because...we hate cuteness? It—and not money—is the root of all evil?”

To my everlasting delight, he played along. “Truly. In fact, we’d better set off on a world-saving mission instead. You and me, destroying cuteness wherever we find it.”

“We’ll have to burn all the Build-A-Bears. The children will never understand.”

“But that’s why we have to succeed, Lauren. For the children.” His mock-earnest look was so perfect and adorable that if he were my boyfriend, I’d shove him onto my unicorn-strewn purple comforter and do dirty things to him.

I met his gaze and nodded with resigned stoicism. “I’m in.”

For the second time, I made Rob laugh. He pocketed his tape measure and strode toward me, tipping my face up as he would if he meant to kiss me. My heart went nuts, but he pecked my forehead, as I’d seen him do to Nadia a thousand times, usually when she was being a goofball. In that moment I must’ve looked like a deflating balloon.

“Seriously, I just meant—wear something you won’t ruin working on the house.”

I nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

This partnership was probably a terrible idea, but since the universe kept handing me excuses to hang around with Rob, I couldn’t say no. Deep down, I suspected I’d been skating toward my first broken heart since I was thirteen years old, and there was nothing for it now but to make good. I flopped onto my bed with a heavy sigh.

Well then, world. Bring it on.

CHAPTER FOUR

The first week of working with Rob, I got two blisters and we finished his budget.

Though he wasn’t well-off, if he ate at home more and bought dinner for Avery less, it should be simple enough to make his money stretch until construction picked up again in mid-April. If he stuck to the plan, he could sock some away in savings, too. I hadn’t brought it up yet, but I had some ideas on how he could make his money work smarter, better than leaving it in a low-interest bearing savings account anyway.

None of my remodeling tasks was difficult or specialized, but some of them were messy and exhausting. At the end of the day, I was often filthy and on the verge of collapse. At least I’d acquired the knack of being around him without going tongue-tied or blurting the first thing that crossed my mind. However, I liked hanging out with him too much for my own peace of mind while he treated me like a kid sister and had a girlfriend who called every night from Omaha.

The first night, the phone rang at half past six. Rob switched off the power sander and took the call in a rush that would’ve made me superhappy, had I been on the other end of the line. At first, he was smiling, glad to hear from her, but soon his responses shortened to monosyllabic and his shoulders hunched. By the time they were done, fifteen minutes later, all of the light and pleasure had left him.

After that, I asked to leave before six.

“You’re spending a lot of time with Rob,” my mom said, cutting into my thoughts.

I focused on my Salisbury steak and made a noncommittal noise.

She persisted, “Is that wise? You had the biggest crush—”

“I remember,” I interrupted, just a shade sharp.

Her eyes widened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to butt in, especially when you’ve been so understanding about Stuart.”

I shot her a quizzical look. “About what, exactly? That you’re not ready to introduce us or because you’re dating at all?”

Either way, it didn’t bother me. If her boyfriend would rather not get entangled with the whole faux-family scenario, it was fine by me. I definitely wasn’t looking for a father figure.

“Both. But you just got home, so it feels too soon to bring the two of you together. Once you settle in, I’ll—”

And I tuned her out. If it got serious, I’d look for somewhere else to live. My mom was fine, but I had no interest in cohabitating with her middle-aged boyfriend. But I smiled and nodded because it wasn’t like I resented Mom getting her life together and deciding she didn’t hate all men because of my dad, a healthier attitude by far.

“Did you know Krista Montgomery’s back?” That question snagged my attention.

“No, that’s awesome. For how long?” Krista had been my second closest friend in high school, and our junior year, she’d moved to California with her dad when her parents split.

“Janet didn’t say. But from context, I suspect she’ll be here a while.”

“Context?”

“She’s pregnant.”

“Oh, wow. How far along is she?” That wasn’t what I wanted to know; my curiosity ranged more along the lines of, Is she keeping the kid? What’s the deal with the baby daddy? Why’d she come back to Nebraska? But I hated gossiping about people I liked, so I’d call and talk to Krista, see how she was doing, instead of grilling my mom for secondhand details.

“Six months, according to Janet.”

“Is the landline still the same?” I had the number memorized when I was sixteen, and if I’d forgotten, it should be in my old address book. That was the last thing my dad bought for me before he left, and I’d taken a dorky pride in writing down all my friends’ contact info.

“As far as I know. I only use Janet’s cell these days.”

“I’ll call Krista later.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”

It was an unspoken agreement that I’d take over the bulk of the housework since I wasn’t contributing anything for groceries or rent, so I cleaned up the kitchen and then picked up the phone. I dialed from memory, and the call went through. Krista answered on the fourth ring, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Moshi moshi.” She’d always been into all things Japanese, from guys to anime.

“Hey, it’s me.” I’d lost count of the times in junior high that we’d done this, before we got cell phones.

“Oh, my God, my mom told me you were back. How awesome is this? How come you didn’t text me?”

“I wasn’t sure if your California phone was still working.”

“Good point, it’s not. I got a new number here, and I meant to message you with it but it’s been nuts getting settled and I just found out you’re back, too.” The last sentence came out in a girlish squeal. She sounded excited and happy, actually, not like a single mother in crisis. “I can’t wait to see you.”