Page 21 of The Summer I Stayed
My hands still for a moment before I resume working in silence.
“Come on, man.” Tom nudges my shoulder. “Is it that hard to admit? I mean, she’s pretty, smart, and everyone in town loves her.”
“And who says I’m looking for someone?” I say through gritted teeth.
Tom shrugs. “No one said you were. But sometimes life gives you things you didn’t know you needed.”
I shake my head. The last thing I need right now is advice on my nonexistent love life from Tom, who’s also in his forties and single.
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you.” I nod, taking a breath.
“How’s that photo booth coming along?” He smirks, and I shove his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Next subject.”
Tom helps me with a few two-man jobs and, thankfully, drops the Maggie subject. Good. I don’t want to hear anyone else bring up or hint at or even remotely suggest anything about Maggie and me together. I’m helping her with her house, and that’s it.
Now that I’m done at the store, I have to meet Maggie to finish painting the photo booth. The build was fairly straightforward, and we completed it in a single day. I arrive at the lake house, my truck filled with cans of paint in all colors imaginable. Maggie has been very specific with her color choices to match the festival theme. Luckily, I had a bin full of samples for her to choose from.
As I pull into the driveway, my eyes land on Maggie. She’s in a blue flowy dress that hits the floor, with an apron on top, and a bandana keeping her hair out of her face. My, what a sight.
“You’re here!” she exclaims.
Is that excitement for me or the paint?
“The paint’s in the back,” I say, gesturing behind me.
Her eyes light up, and she lets out a squeal. “Let’s go!”
Maggie wastes no time in getting straight to work. The photo booth is arched with a small platform for people to sit on, just like Gemma asked for. I decided to take it anextra step further and make it detachable as well, so they can store it for next summer.
I had more fun with this project than any other I’ve done for the town, and there’s only one thing different—her.
Maggie dips her brush in a vibrant shade of yellow and enthusiastically swings it toward the backdrop, droplets of paint flying onto my shirt.
Her jaw drops. “Oh, Jake! I’m so sorry!” She reaches out, as if to wipe it off but stops mid-motion.
I chuckle. “No harm done.”
Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she joins me in laughter.
I dip my brush into a can of blue paint, mirroring her overzealous swing, causing a spray of blue to rain down on her.
She gasps as a few specks of blue land on her cheek and nose. “Hey! You did that on purpose!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She shakes her head, a wide grin on her face, as she retaliates with another flick of her paintbrush. It’s not long before we are both streaked with a rainbow of colors.
Eventually, we return to what we’re actually supposed to be doing—painting the booth—but it’s not nearly as much fun as our paint war. But I steal glances at her whileshe is intensely focused on painting. Her brow furrows in concentration, the tip of her tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth.
As the sun begins to set, we step back to admire our work. The archway is a stunning blend of colors, each carefully chosen by Maggie. Her vision was clear from the beginning, and I’ve got to admit that I’m impressed with the final result. It’s just as Gemma had described it—a whimsical summer dream.
We stand side by side, our hands brushing subtly against each other. I can feel the warmth radiating from her; it’s comforting…familiar.
She breaks the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
