I hang my head. This is not going as planned.
I’ve never lived with a woman before, much less a pregnant one, but I get the feeling I need to tread lightly.
Hoping not to piss her off anymore, I make her tea and peel the one piece of fruit in the house, an almost too-ripe orange, but it’s sweet and hopefully won’t turn her into the Exorcist. I place the mug and fruit on a plate with a few crackers and carry it upstairs. Gently, I knock on the door.
“Mags. Open up. I have your tea. It’s attached to an apology, so you don’t want to miss this.”
The door cracks open, and a teary eye peeks through. “You made me tea? After I freaked out like a lunatic?”
“Yes. Here.” I nudge my way in and take in her room. Appalled that my room is nicer than hers, I try to keep that judgment off my face. But what the fuck? Why is she sleeping in a disaster zone? There are huge water stains in the ceiling, at least one hole in the wall, and based on the way that light just flickered, some electrical issues.
Even though Billy was being an ass when he helped me move in, until this moment, I didn’t think anything here was that bad. Sure, the porch is a mess and the yard needs a serious mow, but I haven’t been in every room. The hallway bathroom is clean and bright. My room has a fresh coat of paint. Why doesn’t Maggie sleep there? For a woman who made it her mission in life to make me suffer, why didn’t she give me this room?
“Don’t say it,” she whispers.
“Say what?”
“That this room is a hot mess. I know it is. I haven’t had a chance to renovate two of the bedrooms or the master bath.”
I freeze when I finally make sense of what she’s saying. “You’re doing everything yourself?” I figured she was hiring contractors.
She sighs. “Trying to, but this shit takes time. They make it look so easy online. No one tells you that if you don’t get the right primer, the old paint will seep through the new coat or make it look orange. No one tells you that if you use the wrong top coat, it’ll peel right off. No one tells you how much dust you’ll have when you re-tile a bathroom, and you’ll have to clean the rest of the house all over again if it’s not enclosed.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “No one tells you how hard it is to get paint out of your hair.”
I try not to smile because Maggie’s obviously upset, but I love her can-do spirit. I set down her food delivery on a rickety dresser. “Come here.”
She doesn’t budge an inch, so I stalk over to her and wrap her in my arms. “You’re doing an amazing job. I took a very nice shower this morning in your beautiful bathroom.” I’m not even joking. “Did you re-grout the one in this hallway?” She nods, and I kiss her temple. “Incredible.”
“Your friends think my house is ugly.”
“They’re idiots.”
“They see Stranger Things, but I see the Granville House in It’s a Wonderful Life. You know the house Mary loved so George bought it?” She wipes her eyes. “It has charm and character.”
I know exactly what she means. I love that movie and can immediately picture the scene where George serenades his new bride even though the roof is leaking.
Magnolia is a big romantic. How did I not know this?
“This place is incredibly charming, Mags. All it needs is a little TLC.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“Can I help with some of the repairs? Only what you’re comfortable handing off. I’ve done a lot on my parents’ property. I can be handy when I need to be.”
Her big brown eyes peer up at me warily. “Aren’t you busy with training?”
“Not so busy that I can’t take on a few projects before training camp starts next month. I’m only taking one class this summer.”
“Working on the house won’t hurt your knee?”
“My knee is feeling great. Been eating my Wheaties.”
She chuckles, and I consider that a win.
Now we just need to rack up a few more victories, and we’ll be on a roll.
Maggie has to learn to trust me. I have the perfect plan to win back her trust.
28
