Page 89 of Britta & the Beach Boy
“I’m glad we came early,” Adam says, and I brace myself for the rest of the lecture that never comes.
“It’s a long list, Britta.” Bear’s deep voice rumbles loudly, but gently over me.
“We’d better get started if we’re going to get it all done,” Adam says to Bear.
“Tonight?” I take the list back from Bear and check my watch. “It’s six o’clock. Why don’t we get dinner and start tomorrow morning?”
Adam lets out another long sigh, and I’m sure he’s even more annoyed with me than he’s letting on, but then Bear says, “We have to be on set Monday. We’ve only got four days to get everything done before we drive home.”
I nod, relieved I’m not the only cause of Adam’s irritation. He’s the contractor on the cottages Georgia is renovating for her TV show, which means he ends up on camera more often than he likes. But since his wife, Evie, is Georgia’s design partner and co-star, he has a hard time saying no when the camera points in his direction.
“You drove?”
“How else was I going to get all my tools here?” Adam is already headed for the door, which he walks out of on the tail of his rhetorical question.
“In one day?” I ask Bear, who nods before following Adam.
They must have left before the crack of dawn to make the fourteen-hour drive, which makes the gesture even more meaningful. I flip on all the lights, really smiling for the first time in days. Maybe for the first time in a week. Probably since Dex left.
When my brothers come back inside, Adam’s got his tool belt strapped on and his arms full of ebelskiver pans while Bear is carrying his plumber’s kit. Bear goes straight to the restrooms to check out the toilets that regularly leak and clog. Adam goes straight for the kitchen.
He does construction work for a living nine months out of the year, but during the summer months, he’s got his own restaurant—the best one in Paradise. He’s a trained chef, so he only needs one look at the kitchen before he’s got ideas about how to rearrange things to flow more efficiently. They aren’t big changes. We don’t have to tear anything out or move appliances—thank goodness—but moving prep stations and service areas will still take time.
While they get started, I grab us some dinner from a great Mexican fusion place around the block. We take a twenty-minute break to eat it, then we work until midnight. We’re up early the next morning and work for twelve hours straight and do the same the next day and the next.
Watching how quickly they get things done, I’m both grateful they’re here, and embarrassed that I didn’t ask them to come sooner. I should have known how much I’d need them.
For their part, Adam and Bear are both surprised how easy it is to get the supplies they need—including industrial-strength toilets—but I’ve already learned this is one advantage of living ina big city. You can always find what you need, and you don’t have to wait for it to be shipped.
They only ask one question about Dex, and not until the last day they’re here:where is he?
“Surfing.” My face warms when they simultaneously raise their eyebrows.
“He can’t take a break fromsurfingto help his wife open her coffee shop in the major city she’s just moved to?” Bear doesn’t hold back his judgy tone.
“In Portugal. He’s surfing in Portugal,” I answer, staying focused on the paint touch-ups I’m doing.
“That’s not better, Britt. He should be here helping you with this place,” Adam says firmly, leaving no room for argument. “You gave up your whole life to do this.”
I try to defend Dex, anyway. “I’m sure he would have been if he’d known how much work it was going to be, but the trip was already planned before we got married, and he’s getting ready for a big competition in January. Surfing is his job.”
You’d think Bear was Adam’s twin instead of Zach, the way he and Adam both scoff at the same time, in the same way, before saying in unison, “that’s not a job.”
“Well, it’s Dex’s job, and he makes good money doing it.” I set down my paintbrush and wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.
I can’t be mad at my brothers for thinking the same thing I used to. And the way our marriage came together doesn’t look good. They barely knew Dex when they came to our over-the-top celebrity wedding ceremony on a Ferris wheel in Las Vegas. He hasn’t tried overly hard to connect with them—he’s not nearly as connected to his own family as I am to mine, but there also hasn’t been time or opportunity.
I don’t blame them for being concerned Dex isn’t here, but I can stick up for him. I feel obligated to. Maybe because wesaid goodbye with a kiss and the possibility of more than a fake marriage. Or maybe because I can’t stop wishing he were here. Whatever the reason, even if I’m not ready for him to be my actual husband, Dex doesn’t feel like just the “guy I married” anymore.
I want my brothers and dad to respect what he does and see for themselves how amazing he is. That a piece of me is missing when he’s gone, and he’s my refuge when he’s here. He feels like laughter and tears, comfort and warmth.
Dex feels like… a partner. And I wonder if that’s what having a husband is supposed to be like, which sends me back to being even more terrified than I was when Annie handed me the keys to her shop a few days ago.
“Is that where you got the money for this place, Britt?” Bear asks, innocently enough, but I hear subtext in the question.The money fromBritta’scouldn’t have been enough for a down payment.
“He helped some,” I mumble. I can’t tell the whole truth, but I won’t flat out lie.
A few feet away from me, Adam takes a nail from between his lips and hammers a loose bit of baseboard back into place, then asks, “Is that why you married him? For the money?”
