Page 87 of South of The Skyway

Good relationships are built on clear communication, Rhyett. Are you communicating?

Jameson

Fuck off, Dr. Phil. He’s got this.

Leighton

El is right. Have you tossed around the g-word and the b-word?

Maverick

Gorgonzola and bacon

Rhyett

Jesus

Maverick

What? I’m hungry. Ordering pizza.

Alessandra

Okay, I caught up. Congratulations Brexley. I can’t wait to read it. Maverick. Dear God, are you always hungry? James. WTF. *barfing emoji*

Axel

So. There’s a WE?

I leftAxel’s message on read, forehead aching from how deeply it had furrowed. Brex had headed into the city for work this morning with a sappy smile on her face. Euphoria was the closest word the English language had to her energy as she headed to work to tell Noel. Rubbing my forehead, I looked up at the house, the comforting rhythm of a hammer against wood beckoning me forward. Between the property and the bar, my life had been a consecutive cacophony of chaos. Sawdust and paint ribbons peeled off my boots. Brex brought a radiant glow to the cracks of time between. Stolen kisses, and shared cups of sugar-laden coffee, quickies when the last contractors left, or we retreated to her townhouse.

My boots scuffed across the concrete front walk. Electric saws buzzed, hammers cracked against their targets, men barked amongst themselves, a boombox blaring somewhere upstairs. I smiled. The boat was its own song, but something about an active project site was a symphony. The challenge of contractors weaving around each other was music to my fucking ears.

“Afternoon Ed!” A heartbeat later, the man materialized. White beard and weathered skin from years in the sun, Ed and his happy beer belly meandered around the corner.

“Afternoon, Mr. Rhodes. I need you to sign off on the master tub and the powder room sinks today. Double check the brickwork out front, or forever hold your peace.”

“Sounds good, Ed. How’s the granite?”

“Looking good, kid. Come on in. I’ll give you the progress report.”

* * *

“You think things are that serious?”The disbelief in Broderick’s tone wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it still made me pause. Perhaps I was leaving too much unsaid between Brexley and me. But everything in my gut felt so…sure. In her. In us. In the way she made me feel. In how she looked on my property or draped across my bed.

“She might be it for me.”

“Excuse-fucking-me?”

I laughed, making my way through the crowd, snaking between vendors and tourists alike. The walk was bustling with more people than should physically be able to fit on it, but the energy was electric, addicting and invigorating. Life. It was an overwhelming abundance of life. I freaking loved it.

“I mean it, man.” The low whistle on the opposite end of the phone brought a smile to my face. “Is that too soon? Are there rules I’m missing?”

“Fuck me, like I know? My track record looks about like yours.”

I blew out a long breath, trying to hide my wince. “How are things, by the way?”

“We broke up,” he said, his tone giving nothing away.

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