“Fine,” I grumble. “You can come by.”
Winnie and Val practically leap out of the car, anticipating that I might change my mind at any given second. Which I might.
“See you there!” Val calls as they hop into her car.
I don’t bother with a reply.
We’re approaching the driveway when I realize something is up. Cars—Pat’s, Chevy’s, and another I don’t recognize—are parked along the road past the mailbox. But it’s not until the driveway itself comes into view that I realize what has happened. Though, admittedly, it’s a complete shock. One that has steam whistling through my ears like I’m a little teapot, about to be tipped over and poured out.
“Wow!” Jo says, pressing her face to the glass as I pull up and park in front of Chevy’s Mustang. “Look at our new driveway!”
“I see it,” I say through gritted teeth.
This morning there was only a potholed, mostly dirt stretch of driveway. Now there is a black ribbon of asphalt stretching all the way to the house. There’s even a new, circular drive in front of the house, and it extends all the way back to the barn.
Pat and I are going to have words. Or more than words, whatever that would be. I told him not to do big stuff, and I’ve tried to ignore the little things he’s done around the house, mostly because I’m so happy to have two toilets and a new oven. But a new driveway? This must have cost THOUSANDS.
I smell it when I get out of the car, the strangely pleasant scent of hot, fresh tar. Jo bounds across the lawn, where the dogs are frolicking with Pat and Tank. James and Chevy are sitting on the porch. Pat jogs our way, meeting Jo halfway. As Val and Winnie park behind me, Pat picks Jo up, swinging her around until she squeals with delight. I hope he shakes the milkshake loose and she pukes all over him.
“Whoa,” Val says, clutching her hands to her chest. “He paved your driveway. That’s so sweet!”
“It’s not sweet,” I say, slamming my door.
“It isn’t?” Winnie asks.
“No. It’s presumptuous. Among other things.”
“Your driveway was a public safety hazard,” Winnie says. “I applaud this decision and think you’re out of your mind if you’re complaining about this.”
“It was my safety hazard. And he shouldn’t be spending money on me.”
“Newsflash,” Winnie says. “You married him. You are now sharing your life with him and that includes your driveway. Didn’t you tell me he broke some fancy car in one of the potholes?”
That shuts me up.
“Incoming,” Winnie says, and I see Pat approaching, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“We’ll give you two a moment.” Val hooks her arm through Winnie’s, and they head toward the house. “Love the driveway!” she calls, and I stare machetes at her back, because staring daggers isn't enough.
I take a deep breath and head toward Pat. Though he’s smiling, it’s a sheepish grin. It’s the same look Amber gets when I find her sleeping in my bed.
“I can explain,” he says.
“Be my guest. Tell me why, when I’ve been explicitly clear about not wanting you to pay for big things, you do something that is by definition very big.”
I don’t realize we were both still moving forward until we stop at about the same time, our toes practically touching. The air vibrates with tension.
“Tank hired a crew to pave the downtown. Then Billy Waters showed up with some injunction from the city council saying we needed to have permits for the roads and blah blah, boring legal stuff. Tank already paid for the truck and the workers. So, we needed to pave something. I thought of you.”