Page 22 of The Girl He Loves

“And you cleaned out the trap?” he asks me.

I slap myself upside the head. “Duh, why didn’t I think of that? You are so smart, Dax. Thanks for fixing the problem.” I pick up his shirt and thrust it toward him. “Have a good day.”

“Okay, I get it. You cleaned the trap. I had to ask.” He starts the dishwasher.

“It’s just going to fill up and not drain or run. Then when you open the door it will magically clean my kitchen floor.” I reach across him and turn the dishwasher off. “I don’t feel like mopping.”

“It could be one of three things. The float switch isn’t telling the machine when to shut off, the timer might be stuck, which again doesn’t tell the machine to stop filling—”

“Or the inlet valve itself is stuck. I know. I researched it. But the YouTube videos on how to fix it are more than I can take on right now.” I cross my arms, making my displeasure known.

“And a handyman costs too much,” Tyler adds. “My medicine is more important, and that’s where we put the money.”

I hate that he’s heard me say this. I rush to him, wrap him in a silly hug, and rock him back and forth while lifting him off the ground. He loves this. “That’s because you can grow up to be my dishwasher so I’m investing in you. And your medicine is more important than a machine to do our dishes. You are what’s most important. We don’t need no stinking dishwasher. We have hugs.” I squeeze him tighter, and he squeals.

I pepper him with kisses, and in between them say in a baby voice, “Mommy loves you.”

Tyler simultaneously loves and hates this. He loved it as a smaller kid, but as he gets older, he says it’s too babyish. But there's no mistaking the hug he gives me back.

“Stop, Momma. I’m not a baby.” He’s grinning.

I let him go just as quickly as I scooped him up. I pretend to wipe a tear. “You’ll always be my baby.”

He presses his forehead into my side, a sign of affection. “Can I help Dax fix the dishwasher?”

I meet Dax’s eyes over Tyler’s head. He gives a nod.

He says, “Dude, I totally need help. We need tools. You have those around here?”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but they’re Mom’s and they’re pink.”

Dax says, “Pink tools are still tools.”

Tyler rushes out of the room to get the tools.

My mom says, “I’ll go to the store and get the parts.”

I groan. “No need. I bought them a while ago when I thought I might try to fix it myself.” I reach under the kitchen sink and pull out some boxes from the back. “You have everything for any of the scenarios I thought it might be.” My plan for buying all the options was to take back what I didn't need. Then time got away from me, and now I have a box of money spent that I could have saved.

Dax and my mom award me with big smiles. Like they’ve won or something.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I say. I consider making a break for it by going out the bathroom window.

I lean close to Dax and say, “After this, you can’t come back. Get on your bike and ride into the sunset.”

He pats me on the shoulder. “You can thank me later.”