Page 55 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
The afternoon passes that way, and by six in the evening, there is no more wall separating my kitchen from my living room—we left pairs of studs far left, middle, and right for ceiling support, until they can get a brace up and the new beam in place. The three of us are leaning against my counter, covered in dirt and dust, sipping beers, admiring our handiwork.
“Good start,” Jesse says.
Franco gestures at the wall where the built-in fridge is going to go. “That’s next. Rip out the bathtub-shower, knock out the wall.”
I wipe sweat off my forehead with the back of my wrist and then take a sip of beer. “Tomorrow?”
Franco nods. “Yep, along with the rest of the cabinets and counters in here, and the floor.”
I hesitate. “Will it be just you two, then?”
Jesse shrugs a big shoulder. “Dunno. No telling with James, and Ryder is working on a big contract for a new event center. When we need electrical work, he’ll pop by and knock that out real quick, but that won’t be for a week or so yet.”
I nod. “I see.” I look around at my half-demolished kitchen and abruptly start laughing. At quizzical looks from both guys, I wave at the rubble and remains of studs where the wall was. “I just realized I have no idea how I’m going to make food.”
Franco laughs. “I’d say have your favorite delivery on speed dial until this is over.”
I groan. “Oh, hell no.”
Franco eyes me. “No?”
I shake my head. “I eat in as much as I possibly can.” I slap a hand against a buttock. “My metabolism is a stubborn piece of shit. Delivery food will go straight to my ass, so I like to make my own food. I prep meals a week at a time.” I open my fridge and show them the stacks of Tupperware containers. “One for lunch and dinner for six days of the week. I don’t eat breakfast, and I eat what I like on Sundays.”
Franco nods, swallowing a sip of beer and pointing at the fridge with his can. “Impressive that you find the time to do that working the hours you do.”
I shrug. “I usually get at least one day, if not two, off every week. I spend a couple hours cooking and prepping for the week. Little enough effort to expend, especially if it keeps my ass from ballooning into something with its own damn zip code.”
“Speaking of an ass with its own zip code,” Jesse says, “I should get home to Imogen. She’s gonna be craving corn chips and peanut butter about now, I’m guessing.”
“Jesse! Not nice!” I frown and laugh at the same time. “And I thought cravings only happened in the first trimester?”
“She told me she’d rather I tease her about it than pretend like nothing’s changed. So I tease her. She knows I’m kidding, and it’s on her request.” Jesse shrugs and shakes his head. “And as far as the cravings go? Hell if I know. That’s what the books she made me read said, but they also said some women experience cravings for specific things the entire pregnancy, and for Imogen, it’s been corn chips and peanut butter.” He laughs again. “Funny thing is, I tried it, spreading peanut butter on corn chips, and it’s actually pretty fucking good. I’ll probably keep doing it, honestly.”
Franco makes a grossed-out face. “Corn chips and peanut butter? Are you kidding me?”
“Hey man, don’t knock it till you try it.” Jesse touches two fingers to his forehead and salutes. “Have a good night, kids. See you tomorrow, bright and early.”
Franco hesitates a few minutes longer, lingering over his beer, and I realize he’s got something on his mind. I kick his steel toe boot. “What, Franco? I can feel you working up to say something.”
He rolls a shoulder. “It’s…” He sighs. “Audra is the kind of girl who won’t ever ask for anything, you know? Like, she’ll rarely ask for help, even from Imogen who she’s known for fucking ever.”
I nod. “I get that about her. I’m the same way, so I sympathize.” I wiggle my can at Franco, offering another, but he shakes his head. “Is there something going on?”
He hesitates again. “She’ll probably kill me for this. But she’s so damn stubborn and I just feel like she needs support but won’t ask for it.”
“She sick or something?”
He shakes his head. “No, nothing like that.” Another long hesitation. “Imogen being pregnant has Audra all twisted up.”
“She wants a baby?”
He nods. “Yeah. She never thought she would, and neither did I. So when she floated the idea of trying, I was kinda shocked, but open to it.”
“I guess I kind of had her pegged as someone who didn’t want kids.”
“Because she always has been that way. But us being together has sort of changed us both. Softened us, opened us up some, you know?” He tosses his empty can into a nearby open contractor-grade garbage bag.
