Page 48 of Time for Change

“Well, what if I told you the reason Mya and I got married was because I got her pregnant and thought marrying her was the right next step.”

Stevie just stares at me, her eyes wide. “Wow, okay,” she states with a chuckle.

“My point is we all do things in our lives where, looking back, it wasn’t the right step or choice, but that’s part of it. You live and learn.”

She smiles widely. “See? Very responsible.”

“Come on. Let’s go check your apartment and make sure everything’s safe,” I state, reaching for the handle and opening the door. By the time I move around the front of the truck, she’s already out, her coat pulled up around her neck. “Go ahead and go on in,” I tell her, knowing she’s probably cold in the chilly January night. “I’m gonna grab a few things from the back of my truck, and I can meet you up there.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” she insists.

Going quickly, I unlock the toolbox on the side of my work truck and grab what I need for now, shoving it in one of my tool bags. If I need something else, I can run back down and retrieve it. I do make sure my truck and the boxes are secured. This isn’t a bad neighborhood, but the last thing I’d want to happen is to have someone take off with the stuff I need for work.

“Ready?” I extend my free hand, which she instantly takes.

We move rapidly up the broken steps of the building and through the front entrance. Since there’s no heat in the foyer, it’s still pretty chilly inside. Together, we climb the steps to the second floor and go straight to her apartment. Stevie has the keys in her hand and looks around before turning her attention to her lock. It only takes her a few seconds to release both thedeadbolt and the knob lock, and we’re stepping inside moments later.

“Make yourself at home,” she insists, engaging the locks one more time and moving to the kitchen. I watch, completely transfixed on her actions as she slips off her coat and hangs in on the back of a chair. She flips her long hair over her shoulder, running her hand over the soft strands, as if, perhaps, to calm any static. She must feel my eyes on her and glances up. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

A light blush stains her cheeks, and she turns to hide her smile. “So, what do you need?”

I set my bag on the warn carpet and slip off my boots. “Kitchen, right?”

“Yes,” she replies.

I grab what I need from my bag to check the outlets and join her in the small space. As I pass, I catch a whiff of something sweet with a hint of floral. It’s becoming a very familiar scent every time she’s near. I envision her lathering her body from head to toe with lotion, and I’ll be damned if I don’t start to get hard at the thought.

“What’s that?” Stevie asks, stepping up beside me.

“This? It’s a multimeter. It’ll measure voltage in the outlet,” I tell her squatting to get closer to what I’m doing. I show her how the device works, taking readings from each kitchen outlet to ensure it’s working properly.

I move to the fridge and slowly pull the appliance from the wall. Stevie jumps in and helps, giving me just enough room to slip behind the refrigerator and check that outlet too.

“The water shouldn’t have gotten back there and messed with that, right?” she asks, worry evident in her tone.

“No, it should be okay, but I want to be thorough.”

I carefully pull the stove out too and shimmy behind the appliance enough to get my reading. When it’s complete, Ireplace both large appliances, grateful there are no issues with the outlets. Then, I turn my attention to the sink and start checking around the top of the counter and underneath it. There are no outlets directly beside the sink, only one outlet on the wall where her microwave is plugged in.

Inside the cabinet, I can tell there’s water damage to the cheap wood base, as well as some bubbling to the drywall. There’s also a darker faded ring around the current damage, indicating this has happened before. Not completely uncommon with these older buildings, especially ones that aren’t maintained to the highest of standards. These apartments are kept at the bare minimum, basically ensuring they pass any city code or ordinance. Anything above that isn’t necessary in the owner’s eyes. It’s how they’re able to maintain an affordable monthly rent.

When everything under the sink appears fine, I check the switch and light fixtures, happy to find them all sufficient and safe.

“Wow, you have to check a lot,” she replies, having taken a seat at the kitchen table while I work.

“I do. This building is old, and while your water might not have impacted the light fixtures, I’m sure there have been other leaks above and around your place in the past.”

She nods. “I’m sure there have been. There’s some pretty decent staining on my bathroom ceiling. I think the landlord tried to paint over it when I moved in, but most likely used cheap paint. You can still see it.”

The fact that her apartment isn’t in one of the better buildings in town doesn’t seem to faze her at all, and I’m certain it has to do with how she grew up. I respect the hell out of her, for overcoming her childhood and forging her own path in this world.

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to check everything out in your bathroom too.”

Stevie shrugs. “I guess, as long as you don’t judge me when we walk into the bathroom and find my towel from earlier still on the floor,” she states, her kissable lips curling up into a smile.

“I’m a single dad with two young kids. There’s always something on the floor at my place, so no judgment.”

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