I was his.
Me.
Imperfect and floundering, he wanted me anyway.
I wanted him too. God, did I want him.
I laid my head on his chest and sighed. He lifted my hair off my shoulder and ran it between his fingers.
“Do you understand, Catherine? So deep.”
I nodded. “The deepest.”
And I would do my part to keep us right here because I never wanted to be anywhere else.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Catherine
I had no plan unless “fix up the house” counted.
Which it didn’t.
I was strolling through a home improvement store, hoping a starting point would come to me. Luckily, Joey was content being strapped to my chest, looking around at all the new sights.
“Maybe paint should come first. What do you think, Joey-Girl?” She kicked her feet, which I took as agreement, so I stopped in front of the swatches. “Now, what color? We can’t paint the whole house lavender like your room, even though I love it. I picked it for you before we even met, and it suits you. The thing is, not everyone loves it as much as we do, so we have to go neutral if we eventually sell the house. Mama wants a pretty neutral, though, not boring ol’ white.”
A throat cleared next to me, followed by a low chuckle. I’d been so entranced by all the colors I hadn’t noticed Joey and I were no longer alone. I turned, immediately recognizing the man standing in front of the blues.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
I grinned at Miles Aldrich, who had a shopping cart filled with lumber. “No worries. I was about to start freaking out, so it’s better you did.”
“I’m known for my good timing.” He reached out and tickled Joey’s foot. “Hello, little lady. Helping Mom?”
“Looks like she remembers you.” I patted my daughter as she kicked and cooed at Miles. “And no, unfortunately, she’s no help at all.”
He raised a brow. “Ah, I see. Hence the freak-out.”
“Yes, but I’m not going to freak out.” I exhaled a resolute breath. “I’m going to make a plan.”
“Oh yeah?” He leaned an elbow on his cart handle. “I’m into plans. I’ve made a career out of plans. Tell me what you’re planning exactly.”
I’d met this man one time, but I had a good feeling about him. Joey seemed to agree since she’d chilled with him during brunch last weekend and was literally drooling over him now.
“Remember my wreck of a house I mentioned at brunch?”
He nodded. “Rings a bell.”
“I need to unwreck it.”
“Do you want to elaborate?”
“Not really. It’s daunting.” I gestured toward the paint swatches. “Paint is all I can sort of wrap my head around as a starting point—” He hissed through his teeth, and my eyes rounded. “Bad idea?”
He scratched the back of his head. “Look, I’m no expert. I’ve been renovating my house for over a year with no end in sight.”
I blinked at him. A year? Oh god, I would die if this dragged on for a year. “Why?”
“Mostly because I’m a slacker with the attention span of a gnat.”
“Do gnats have short attention spans?”
His brow furrowed. “I can’t say for a fact, but I’m thinking they do since their lifespan is so brief. They have to see everything they can in their twenty-four hours of annoying every living being on the planet.”
I snorted a laugh. “Makes sense. Anyway, sorry to derail you. Tell me about your house.”
“Right. I bought an old townhouse last year that was absolutely disgusting. In the seventies, someone decided olive green was a good look for a 1920s kitchen.” His mouth puckered in distaste. “I convinced myself I could do it all despite having no renovation knowledge or the ability to commit.”
“I am not under any such delusions. I know I can’t do the work myself. Luckily, my friend has a cousin who knows his way around a table saw and is up for the job.”
Raymond and Davida had been too happy to offer their assistance when I told them I wanted to work on my house. They were almost on board with Elliot and me as a couple, and neither made any bones about their disapproval of me living with him. It just so happened Ray’s cousin was a handyman who specialized in renos and was willing to give me a friends-and-family discount. In that regard, I was set. I just had to figure out what I needed him to do and where to begin.
“You’re doing better than me already.” He drummed his fingers on the cart handle. “All right, Kit—I can call you Kit, right? Elliot has dibs on Catherine, doesn’t he?”