Page 59 of Outside The Wire

“Well, of course it’s big. The wall is big.”

“But this big?”

I rolled my eyes. The man had no sense of style. “The wall is huge with nothing on it. You can’t put up a little picture and call it a day.”

“No, I get that, but this is…”

“Big. I get it.”

“It’s not just that. I’m just not sure I’m a rooster sort of a guy.”

I tore my gaze from his and stared at the proud rooster in the painting. His bright colors and dark green tail really stood out to me. But honestly? No, I didn’t see him as a rooster guy. I was screwing with him for making me drag him around to every single painting, only for him to veto every single picture. This was the biggest, ugliest thing I could find, and I was determined to make him buy it. No matter the cost.

“I think you’re absolutely a rooster kind of a guy.”

“Really?”

“I’m telling you, this picture will be perfect in your bedroom.”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”

I leaned up and whispered in his ear. “It’s quite the aphrodisiac.”

I nearly burst out laughing when his face paled. If it weren’t for the fact that he had dragged me around for nearly three hours to find just one picture, I would have let this go a long time ago, but now, it was a point of pride.

“You know, I don’t think it’ll fit on the wall.”

“Oh, I know it will. I measured.”

“You did, huh?”

“Yep!” I beamed. I strode over to the picture and held out my arms. See, from the door to the wall, it was three arm widths. If I hold out my arms here, I can easily make it work. See?”

I held out my arms, pretending that there was a wall on either side of the frame and measured outward the way I saw it in my mind.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, if you assume that three of my arm lengths is the length of the wall, then half of me would be half of the picture. So, if I cut myself in half and place myself from my fingertip in the middle of the picture to the left, I can easily see how much space is left on the left side of the picture. The same applies to the other side of the picture.”

He frowned, rubbing his chin. “Can you say that again?”

It really wasn’t that hard. “Three of me from arm to arm,” I said, showing my arms spread out from side to side, “is the length of the wall. So, if the painting is the size of one of me, then if I cut myself in half and place one half of me on the left side, I can tell how much space would be left on the left side and how much would be left on the right side.”

“That’s too many lefts for me. You know we could have brought a tape measure, right?”

I rolled my eyes at his suggestion. “Why do men have to do things the complicated way?”

“You mean the logical way?”

Pursing my lips, I thrust my hand on my hip. “Would you like to drive all the way back to your house, pick up a tape measure, drive all the way back here, measure the picture, only to find out it fit all along?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad,” I smiled. “It’ll fit. Trust me.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling you’d say that,” he muttered under his breath.

“You waste too much time trying to make everything perfect.”

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