Page 14 of Sweeter

“Grabbing resumes?”

“Exactly.” I pull out my keys and unclip the one for my car. “Do you need tools or something? Not that I have non-artistic tools. Do you need a soldering iron?”

He laughs. “No, but don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”

Will hands me the doughnuts and heads for the back of his truck. He pulls down the back bit and hauls out a battered baby-blue toolbox. It’s rusting at the edges and plastered in faded rock radio stickers. I frown. Do they have ironic yard sales where dudes buy manly-man appliances?

Will hoists the toolbox higher. “It’s my dad’s. He upgraded a couple of years ago and gave me this one. Everything’s old but it works.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

He laughs like I’m joking, but I’m not. The toolbox isn’t shiny or pretty, or aesthetically pleasing in a way my art professors would have appreciated, but it’sgood. And Will looks good holding it, he sounds good talking about it. It’s clear this rusty-ass toolbox makes him happy in some lovely, whole-wheat way I haven’t seen before. A lump pushes up in my throat and I know I need to capture this moment. To freeze it and re-examine it and try to understand why this toolbox is so...much. My mind whirrs, collecting textures, colours, shapes…

“Marley?”

I snap back to the present. “Sorry, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Sure,” he says. “Go get warm.”

It’s such a boyfriend-y thing to say, my breath catches. I want to stay, say something silly, but thankfully I turn and walk toward my place.

My apartment is a mess. I didn’t clean up because I didn’t want to think we’d wind up back here. Solid Ellis logic. I put the box of doughnuts in the fridge, which is easy because unlike the rest of my apartment, it’s empty. Then I get to work piling crusty mugs and plates into the sink, tearing down my homemade washing line and gathering up the loose buttons, ribbons, and metal scraps that might one day be art, but right now are just trash. I’m halfway through wiping my kitchen when I notice my breath is coming out in white puffs. I run to the central heating and crank it on. The system sputters, surprised to be called to action. That makes sense. It’s been more than two weeks since I put it on. I stare at the dial, my stomach twisting. No matter how good this thing with Will is, it’s going to cost me. I’ll have less time to work, I’ll have to pay for meals and dates and keep actual food in the fridge. It’ll be the opposite of a sugar baby relationship: effortless chemistry, negative financial benefits. That’s fine, that’s how it should be, but fucking hell, I really didn’t need love spreading its big, glowing ass all over my plans.

My brain does a little hop-skip.

Love?That’s a bit presumptuous,a snarky voice intones.

I look out the window. Will is leaning over my car’s hood, doing something with a wrench. He’s smiling slightly and seems utterly absorbed. My chest throbs like an old bruise. Unless William Faulkner is the worst lay of all time, I’m going to fall for him. I will pin-drop into the bright, lovely thing between us. I return to my sponge and keep wiping my kitchen table. The snarky voice clears her throat.Maybe Will can help you with money? He’s got enough.

“No.” The idea is so repulsive I say it out loud. I won’t—can’t—have Will supporting me. I’ll give more lessons, sell more commissions, maybe even look at doing some cleaning work, but I am not taking his money. Ever. I have my pride.

Fifteen minutes later, my apartment is as warm and clean as it’s going to be. I’m dusting my vast and extremely dusty candle collection when I hear a knock at my front door. “I’m done,” Will calls.

I assume that’s guy speak for ‘I gave up.’ I fluff my curls and smooth my fake-velvet skirt. “Come in!”

Will opens the door, pink-cheeked and smiling, and looks around with interest. “Great place.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling a little self-conscious. There’s so much of my work around, it’s basically a display of the inside of my head. “I know it’s cramped, but it’s the only place the residency offered.”

“It’s great.” He gestures to my wolf teacups. “Did you make all this stuff yourself?”

“Most of it.” I gesture to the table where the doughnuts are gleaming like fat sugary gems. “Want to eat?”

He shakes his head, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. A corresponding grin blossoms on mine. “Do you perhaps want to see my room?”

He studies the ceiling. “I mean…if there’s nothing else you’d like me to fix?”

I gape at Will. “You didn’t…did you fix my car?”

“Didn’t you hear me start it up?”

“It’srunning?”

“Yeah. I mean you should replace—”

But I don’t give him a chance to give me valid advice. Instead, I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He bends down and kisses me. He kisses me back without hesitation. I adore that about him, the way he jumps into things as though they were always meant to go that way. We sway together, our hips pressed tight. I’m sure if I could stay in this moment long enough, everything would make sense.

He fixed my car.My insides fizz at the thought. With the cash I’ve saved from hiring a mechanic, I can afford to run the heaterandtake the day off. Although… I pull away from Will. “Can I give you money for fixing my car?”

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