Page 138 of Muddy Messy Love

Relieved, I grin. She can see the vision. Excitement swirls in my belly, but Liam gags. “What colour paint do they call this? Baby-shit green?”

“Actually, I think it’s army excrement,” I say. “But don’t worry, by next week all the walls and ceilings will be bright white.” The final reveal of my very own fixer-upper appears in my mind with crystal clarity, causing adrenaline to fizz through my veins and my feet to move. “An electrician will install downlights through here and spotlight tracks across there.” I stomp my foot against the hardwood. “These will be cleaned and waxed, left rustic-style, and paintings will cover each side wall, with shelves lining the back. Then sculptures and furniture will fill the floor.”

Jen wanders around as I speak, nodding. “Where’s the counter going?”

I skip to the exact spot. “Right here. I found a cheap one on Gumtree. It’s being delivered tomorrow.”

“Wow,” Beth says. “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

Thankfully, some perks come with an anxious mind. I lead them into the next room, the one set to guarantee cash flow and fill the only hole left inside me unrelated to Cole. I miss Mini-Bees, or more aptly, the kids. I miss their chubby-cheeked grins and bright-eyed optimism—their energy, honesty, and joy. Alex and Ella especially. And whenever I miss them, I miss Hannah, which inevitably leads me back to Cole. Argh. My heart hurts.

Later, Aves. Save it all for later.

I take a deep, fortifying breath and present the space. “This is my new studio and where I’ll be teaching kids’ pottery classes. I’ll be distributing flyers and hitting up local schools next week.”

“Oooh,” Jen says. “Can I help sometime? I love kids.”

“Sure, whenever you want. I could definitely use your help at the grand opening in three weeks.”

Jen claps. “Count me in.”

I catch Beth finally wince at the state of the kitchen and bathroom, but she quickly hides it with an overenthusiastic smile. “Nothing some elbow grease can’t fix.”

“And a hazmat suit,” I add, to which she laughs.

I lead them up the narrow staircase next. The steep, old, rickety steps creak in protest but hold our weight. I’m not sure how much life they have left in them. It’s lucky I’m light, more so now than ever. Grief is appetite’s enemy, I’ve discovered. “And this is my bed slash living room,” I announce as we cram into the dingy space.

Liam’s head almost hits the angular ceiling, and he laughs. “Hell, Aves, lucky you only own four pieces of furniture.”

I shrug. “I happen to like cosy.”

“So what’s the plan for up here?” Beth asks.

“Nothing yet. The shop takes priority.”

Beth nods. “Good thinking.”

Jen walks over to the lone window and peers out over the street. “Oh my. You didn’t tell me there’s a male strip club upstairs across the road. That view will be delightful. I’m surprised they didn’t black out their windows.”

“What?” I gasp, racing to the window.

Beth and Liam follow, but Jen bursts out laughing. “You guys are either perverted, gullible, or both.”

I hip-check her. “You suck.”

She pats me on the shoulder. “Aw, you sound disappointed. Don’t worry, I’ll take you to a strip club.”

Liam huffs. “No, you bloody hell won’t.”

“Children, children,” Beth says. “I’m not sure this knotty old floor will survive my shoes much longer, so how about we go downstairs and unload this truck?”

Our eyes all drop to Beth’s shiny devil-red stilettos. They could poke holes in concrete, so she’s probably right.

Jen elbows me. “Was she born wearing high heels? I’d like to see her baby photos.”

I crack up as we hit the stairs, but Beth clears her throat. “Jen, I’ll have you know these are the most comfortable shoes I own. Looks can be deceiving.”

Beth remains poker-faced when we look back to scrutinise her sincerity, but then her smile cracks. “I’m joking.” She shrugs. “They look hot as hell, and I can’t feel my feet anymore, so it’s a win-win.”

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