Page 98 of Fixing to Be Mine

“You do too,” I tell her. “I was almost scared you’d choose millennial gray.”

“Is that your way of calling me old? Aren’t you a millennial?” Her brows lift.

I scoff. “No. I’m Gen Z, baby.”

“Fuck,” she whispers and laughs.

I set the paint roller against the wall and pull her into my arms.

“Does this make me a cougar?” she asks.

“Does it make me your cub?” I quickly snap back.

“Shut the hell up,” she tells me, and I lean in and kiss her as I laugh against her mouth. “You should be glad I like you.”

“Glad? Nah. I’m fuckin’ thrilled,” I say, picking up my roller so we can finish painting the color on the walls.

The midday sun creeps in through the windows, and the only sound is the soft glide of paint and the occasional creak of the ladder.

“We won’t finish before I leave, will we?” she asks after a while.

I pause, roller hovering halfway up the wall. “Probably not.”

She nods like she already knew but needed to hear it out loud.

“But it’s getting there. It’s much closer than it was when I was working alone.”

She keeps rolling. “That’s true. Progress is progress.”

“Yes, it is.”

We keep working, side by side, the walls around us slowly turning from bare to complete, like everything else between us.

I finish the wall and lower my roller, wiping the back of my arm across my forehead. Stormy’s across the room, cleaning up, her tank top clinging to her back, shoulders flushed from the heat.

“Come on. I want to show you something,” I tell her.

She follows me through the house, barefoot and curious, a light bounce in her step despite the hours we’ve been working.

I take her hand, leading her to the stairwell off the main entrance of the house. It’s unfinished, and it still needs a handrail, but the steps are solid even if they creak. At the top, the temperature shifts slightly, and the light changes too. There’s no door or drywall, just framed outlines and exposed beams. The floors are still in their original worn state, and all that stands is its potential.

“Careful,” I say, steadying her as we step onto the landing. “It’s rough.”

She looks around slowly, taking it all in. “I didn’t expect it to be this big.”

I gesture to the right. “That’ll be the main bathroom for the largest bedroom. Back there …” I motion toward the deeper end of the hall. “A game room or an office. A Jack and Jill bathroom goes here. And these two rooms … one day, they’ll be my kids’ rooms.”

I pause at the last door, my hand braced on the frame.

Stormy doesn’t say anything, but she shifts beside me.

“I drew the layout before I purchased the place,” I admit. “Had it in my head that if I started on the remodel, the right person would show up.”

She walks slowly to the nearest doorway and leans against it. Still, she smiles like she can see it.

“Have you ever imagined them?” she asks. “Your kids?”

I nod. “Not their faces or anything. The noises of kids. Little feet running down the hall. Laughter bouncing off the walls.” I exhale slowly. “It’s quiet here. Always has been. But I never meant for it to stay that way.”

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