Page 31 of Waiting for Gilbert

More like frenzied. Hectic. Agitated. I popped out of bed at the cottage after three hours of sleep and haven’t stopped moving since.

Sleeping on that bed—her bed—was unacceptable. I don’t know what possessed me to lie down. And I never would have done it if I’d thought for a second she was going to cuddle up next to me. Even if she didn’t cuddle. She was there, right there, while I slept. Which, maybe isn’t so bad, but it sounds bad.

I don’t know where I thought she would sleep, but when her face was the first thing I saw upon waking—completely relaxed, peaceful—I felt completely relaxed and peaceful. And I don’t like it.

Some far-away day in the distant future, I’ll enjoy mornings beside the love of my life. I’ll reach over and smooth her hair behind her ear. She’ll open her eyes and smile lazily. I’ll have those moments with my wife. Relaxed and peaceful moments. I don’t want them with a girl I met once at a party.

How could I have let myself stay over? I’m herlandlord. It doesn’t matter if it made sense, that it was dangerously cold, that it was almost morning or that her family is sick with a stomach bug. Sleeping together, even if we weren’ttogether,crossed so many boundaries. I don’t want to think about it.

Yes, you could say I’ve been busy today.

I finished hanging the drywall in this room less than an hour ago and now that I have a mattress, there will nevereverbe a repeat of what happened last night. I even sealed the window frame with plastic until I can replace it come spring. It looks terrible, but I’ll deal with it in time.

John snaps in my face. “Where’d you go?”

I blink, avert my gaze from the window, and stare at John. “What?”

“Nevermind.” He rests against the doorframe and nods to the cottage where my attention has been drawn every few minutes today. “How’s CJ? You moved into this huge dump before it’s ready—she must have really twisted your finger.”

A false laugh escapes.Nothing to see here. She’s not twisted me into doing anything.

“Nothing like that.” I walk my fingers along the bandage under my sleeve in an attempt to ease the burning sensation. “Your sister bushwhacked me. I didn’t know who the new tenant was until after papers were signed. And after—” After I introduced myself in the middle of night. “Nevermind.”

“After,” John says. As if that explains everything. He cocks his head. “You’re saying you’d have moved into a shell with no heat or bed regardless. You’d do it for anyone. Not just a red-headed sprite with a contagious smile.”

I shake my head. “Don’t start. It was Nickie. And with Aunt Jewels shoving every available woman within fifty miles at me, I don’t need it from you.” I wrestle the lid off the five-gallon bucket of white drywall mud. All this standing around is wasting time. “Toss me that water bottle.”

John watches me stir a few ounces of water into the top layer of mud until it’s silky smooth while he unrolls a length of paper tape. I spread a layer of mud along the seams of the drywall with my six-inch putty knife, and he follows and presses the tape over the mud.

“If you’re not into her…” John fumbles with the roll of tape before extending another length. “Do you mind if I ask her out?”

The surge that crescendos in my gut surprises me. A dollop of mud falls to the floor. Since when does John ask me who he dates? As if I have authority over him. There was Emily in tenth grade that we both liked, but then she never liked either of us.

I turn my back and work the rest of the mud from my knife into another seam. “I’m not dating.” I remind myself as I speak it out loud. “You know this. I’m done with women until I sell this house and buy another to flip. Too much needs done for me to take time off to play with girls.” I dampen my annoyance. John meant no harm. There shouldn’t be such cacophony clouding my thoughts on this topic. “Why are you asking? I don’t have feelings for Cordelia. If you want to take her out, be my guest.”

“Awesome. Thanks, man.”

“Don’t thank me. That makes it weird.”

I bend to scoop the fallen mud from the floor and see Cordelia standing in the doorway to my bedroom, face flushed. Her green mittens tighten around a gift box covered in red and white striped paper until it bends against the pressure.

I bolt upright. “Hey—Hi.”

She greets me with a small smile, and her gaze darts between John and me.

I share a glance with John. What did she hear? All of it? I silently implore him to play it cool.

“Amazing.” She recovers faster than either of us. “This room looks completely different than last night.”

John narrows his eyes as if catching me in a lie. I almost blurt into the room that Cordelia took me to the hospital and then I slept in her bed.

Cordelia—I’m having a hard time even thinking of her as CJ—sets the box on the floor. “A little housewarming present. To keep you warm.” She tucks her hands into the pockets of her oversized purple coat. “I went to town after my car came back.”

Her gaze travels around the room and I’m wondering what she truly thinks of my home. My work. This mess.

She nudges the box with her foot. “I went to town for groceries. You wouldn’t believe my good luck. Remember how the car was dead because I’d left the trunk open forever?” Her gaze darts around the room, landing on everything but me.. “My car started just fine… it seems a little Christmas elf jumped the battery and put gas in her. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this?”

I lift my gaze to the ceiling. Yes, I jumped her car and filled the tank with gas. But give me a break. She drove me to the clinic in the middle of the night, in a truck she didn’t know how to operate, and then insisted I sleep in a warm bed. Taking care of her car was the least I could do. And unloading it, but that was a simple thing. Goodness, yeah, okay, I also brought her donuts and made her coffee.

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