Page 14 of Suddenly Entwined

The little girls part like the red sea and I march down the hall, as much as someone can march in a tiny apartment. The air gets colder as I go, and weak sunlight is streaming across the floor of my living space. The beeping outside has ceased, but there’s the overlapping sounds of several male voices just outside. Sure enough, there isn’t even a sign of a door separating my home from the great outdoors.

“What the hell is going on?” I demand, stepping out and squinting against the first rays of uncharacteristically bright sun.

“Oh,” Berg turns around, a grin on his face as he tucks a big work boot behind the other and does his best at a curtsey. “Good morning, sunshine.”

I suppose I deserve that after last night, but the fact that I’m missing my door? Hell, no.

He’s still beaming at me, green eyes glinting. Did he and I not get the same amount of sleep last night? Because I feel like a zombie and he looks like a rugged mountain man, ready to take on a woodpile.

Berg moves his arms in a grand sweeping gesture. “Look. I found handymen!”

My teeth clamp together at the sound of my own words being repeated back to me.

Two or three young guys surround the bed of the truck, loosening straps.

“Berg, what is going on?”

For the first time I see my door, my old door, lying on its side against the house.

A slow smile spreads across his face until he’s flashing all his teeth. “Fixing.”

Oh, he is enjoying this.

“There are so many things wrong right now.”

“What? You’re getting a newdoor. Be happy.”

I speak slowly, enunciating my words. “You took my door off my hinges while I was asleep.”

“I’m a busy man, sunshine. You didn’t want to wait until the weekend. This is the next best time.”

He slings a heavy arm over my shoulder like we’re besties and I shrug him off, even though he’s toasty warm.

I start counting things off on my fingers. “You’re doing work on my suite without proper notice, your kids are in my bedroom–”

“Oh, you met Nat and Lou? Cute, huh?”

I melt a little at that before I remember I’m incensed.

“Cute as far as trespassers go,” I scoff.

“One door, boss,” says a young guy when he approaches us.

I tug the bottom of my sweatshirt lower, really wishing for long pants. Pants and a bra.

Berg accepts a clipboard, scribbling his signature on the bottom. “Thank you, Matt.”

“Yeah, thanks so much, Matt,” I add sarcastically. “How did you even set this up? It’s been like seven hours.”

My mental math serves as a reminder of how badly I wish I was in bed.

“I have my ways,” he says, like that somehow explains everything.

As fast as it came, the truck pulls away and then it’s only Berg and I standing between our vehicles, a new door lying next to the old one.

“Alright,” Berg says, clapping his hands once as he walks to the back of his truck.

He pulls out a toolbox and carries it over, setting it down.

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