Sparrow (22 page)

And
mine will commiserate with it.

Slowly,
I relax my hold beneath her legs and set her feet back on the ground.  Her
hands fall to land on my chest, and I keep mine wrapped around her waist.

“I’m
sorry,” she says.  “I should never have led you on that way.”

“It’s
fine.”

“No,
it’s not.”  She focuses on my shirt and plays with the buttons.  “I just…I…”
she stutters.

“You
don’t have to explain it.”

“I
do.”  She meets my eyes.  “You gave me an unbelievable gift.  You understand how
important this is to me.  No one has ever given my goals value.  Not my parents
with Julliard, not Derek with my business.”  She pauses.  “Only you.”

I
set my feet and smile.  “So, let me get this straight.  If I do something nice
for you, you’ll throw yourself at me.  Is there any way I can get that in
writing?”

“Stop!” 
She rolls her eyes.  “I’m trying to justify my actions.”

“And
I said you didn’t have to.”  I lean toward her.  “Years ago, a girl I knew gave
me some good advice.  I’d forgotten it until recently, until she reappeared in
my life.  Do you remember what it was?”

Suspicious,
Addison narrows her eyes.  “Maybe.”

“She
told me that, as long as I followed my heart, no one had the right to tell me
what I did was wrong.”

Her
face relaxes.

“Do
you still believe your own words?”

“I
want to.”

“What
changed?”

“The
addition of a third party.”  She steps out of my arms.   “Any normal, sane
person would have simply thanked you for your offer.  But, no, not me.”  She
gets sarcastic.  “What do I do?  I jump on you, then try to kiss you.”

“Do
you see me complaining?”

“That’s
not the point.  I need to do better.”  She crosses her arms and puts another
few feet between us.  Then, she takes a deep breath, plasters a fake smile on
her face, and looks me in the eye.  “Thank you so much for the building.  Thank
you for thinking of me and for giving me this opportunity.”

I
scowl at her.  “What the fuck was that?”

“That,
Potty Mouth, is called acting like an adult.”

“I
don’t like it.”

“Tough
shit.”

My
eyebrows shoot up.  “Who’s got the potty mouth now?”

She
laughs, and I walk toward her.  “Can we rewind this conversation?  Let’s go
back to the part where you were excited about the studio.”

“Okay.” 
She smiles.  “But, I’m not jumping on you.”

With
an exaggerated pout, I reach for her hand.  “Let me take you on a tour
instead.  You can tell me what you see.  I need to get a better idea of how
much work I have to do.”

“Why?”

“This
is our project.  Yours and mine.  I’m good with my hands, but you have the
vision.”

Addison’s
bright smile fades into one of sincerity.  “Thank you, Kyle.  Truly.  I don’t think
I have the words to tell you how much this means to me.”

I
squeeze her hand.  “Don’t worry.  I’m pretty sure I know how you feel.”

“Yeah?”

“When
I signed the papers to buy Brady’s, I felt liberated.  I felt in charge of my
life for once.  I was finally making my own path.  A path you set me on.”  I wink. 
“It’s a good feeling.”

“Damn
good,” she agrees.

As
we start to head toward the back of the room, I ask, “So, what do you think your
husband will say about this?”

She
frowns.  “I’m sure he’ll be pissed.  Lately, that’s all he ever is.”

“Was
he upset when I brought you home the other night?”

“He
doesn’t know.”  She shrugs one shoulder.  “He was asleep when I came in the
door.”

Nice. 
Apparently he wasn’t worried if she made it home safe.

“Do
you want to come up with a story?” I ask.  “You could tell him Ashley found the
building.  Or maybe some distant relative left it in their will.  Do you have
any aunts or uncles?”

“No.” 
She shakes her head.  “No lies.  I’ve told enough of those already.”

“To
who?”

We
stop walking next to the room I thought could be an office.  “To myself,” she
says.

Before
I can ask what that means, she lets go of my hand and reaches through the
doorway to find the light switch.  When she flips it on, she steps inside the
little room.  “What was this used for?”

“I
don’t know.”  I look around with her.  “I thought it could be your office.”

She
looks at me and grins.  “I’m going to have my own office?”

Her
smile is contagious.  “If that’s what you want.”

She
grabs my arm with both hands and starts to bounce on her toes.  “I’m going to
have my own office!”

The
more time we spend walking around the room and tossing around ideas, the more enthusiastic
Addison becomes.  Her gestures get more animated, her smile grows brighter, and
her eyes dance.  You can tell she’s put some deep thought into what she hoped
to have one day.  Eventually, I lean against the wall to let her exist in her
own world.  As she takes pictures with her phone to send to her sister, I
realize I made the right choice in doing this.  Kevin thought she might feel as
if I was trying to show up Derek and buy her affections.  I don’t think that thought
crossed her mind at all.  I’m trying to show her I support her future; that I
value the person she has become.  She’s more than just a girl from my past.

Besides,
her smile is gorgeous.

I’d
do anything to keep it on her face.

“Pizza’s
here!”

Paintbrushes
and rollers drop to the tarp-covered floor.

“It’s
about time.”

“I’m
starving.”

“Did
you have to make it yourself?”

Addison
gives me half a smile as our grumbling volunteers make their way toward Kevin,
his arms stacked to his chin with boxes.

“I
got here as fast as I could,” he says as Ashley, Tara, Noah, and Austin take
turns unloading my brother’s burden.  “Our order wasn’t ready yet.  I had to
wait.”

“Kevin!” 
Ashley says as she opens the pizza box in her hands.  “Two slices of this one
are missing!”

“I
got hungry on the way back,” he says with a shrug.  “What’s the big deal?”

Addison
clears off one end of the table we set up for our weekend painting party.  “Did
they give you any plates?”

Kevin’s
face falls.  “Uh, no.”

“We
don’t need them.  We can use these,” Tara says as she grabs an unopened box of
disposable rags.  “We’re so hungry, the food wouldn’t have touched the plates
anyway.  We’ll only need to wipe our hands.”

“You
guys act like you haven’t eaten in days.”  Kevin shuffles toward the table with
the last box.  “It’s only painting.”

“Our
friends are soft,” I say and elbow my brother’s arm.  “They’re not used to
manual labor.”

Tara
eyes me as she reaches for the cheese and mushroom pie.  “This place is huge.  I
wasn’t expecting ladders and stretching.”

I
look around the room.  She has a point.  The studio ceiling doesn’t look very
high until you’re trying to paint the walls to reach it.

Lifting
a breadstick to her mouth, Addison says, “I’m feeling worn out, too.  As thanks
for your help, I’ll make us all appointments for a massage.”

The
girls make some sort of squeely noise and the guys all stare at each other.

“The
only way I’m getting a massage is if a hot chick does it,” Austin states as he
shoves his mouth full of food.  “I nowf geffng rudbed by som dud.”

“What
was that?” I ask with a smile.  “You like getting rubbed by dudes?”

“No!”
he says as he swallows.  “I’m not getting rubbed by some dude.”

I
laugh.  I’ve actually had a few massages in the past; once, in high school, I
jacked up my shoulder in a game.  Then, a couple of years ago, I pulled
something in my back out on a job.  The chiropractor I went to did a massage
after adjusting me.  It felt great, and the least of my concerns was that Dr.
Murphy was a man.

“If
you want an exotic rub down,” Addison points at Austin, “you’re on your own. 
I’m not paying for that.”

I
frown at her.  “Wait a minute.  You won’t pay for a girly massage, but you’ll
pay for –”

“Shhhhh!” 
She puts her hand over my mouth.  “It’s a secret!”

She
read my mind.  I nearly outed some of her bachelorette party plans.

“Hold
on.”  Kevin gets involved.  “What are you two talking about?  There had better
be no rubbing of anything, anywhere, at any time during any upcoming parties.”

Addison
and Tara giggle as Ashley gives them a curious look.

“There’s
no rubbing that I know of,” I reassure my brother.  “I was going to say
something else.”

What
I was going to reveal were Addison’s plans to follow through on her ice
sculpture purchase.  She requested Rick’s catalog and, while she’s not wasting
money on a replication of the male genitalia, she is getting an ice recreation
of a chest.  A chest ripped with six-pack abs that you can do shots off of,
like a luge.  I told her if she wanted to do body shots, all she had to do was
ask.  She laughed and said, “You wish.”

She
was right.  I do wish.

“Don’t
worry, baby.”  Ashley walks over to Kevin and wraps her arm around his waist. 
“Addison will follow the rules.  Just like Kyle.  Right, brother-in-law?”  She
raises an eyebrow at me.

Addison’s
eyes dart to mine, and we bite our tongues.  In a few weeks we are so busted.

Quickly,
I grab a slice of pizza from the nearest box and take a bite.  “Right,” I
mumble as I chew, hoping Ashley will believe me.  Then, the taste in my mouth
registers and I gag. 
Olives!
  I can’t stand olives!

I
nearly knock Addison out of my way to reach for a rag.  I need to get this
taste out of my mouth
now.
  I turn and try to spit out my food as
inconspicuously as possible, and Kevin laughs.  He’s well aware of my aversion.

“That’s
called karma,” he says behind my back.

Addison
appears at my side and leans around me.  “Are you okay?”

“I
don’t like olives.”

“Are
you allergic?”

“No. 
I just don’t like them.”

She
starts to laugh and disappears from my side.  After I wipe my mouth and turn
back around, she’s holding a can of Coke for me.

“Thanks.” 
I take it and down half.

“So,
Addison, why purple?” Noah asks.  He turns his paint-splattered hands over.  “I
hope this comes off.”

“It’s
not purple, it’s lavender,” Addison says.  “It’s soothing.  It’s also my
favorite color.”

“It
is?” I ask.  How did I not know this?

She
nods.  “We had a bunch of lilac bushes by my house when I was little, and I
loved the smell.  I think I was six when I made my parents make my room
lavender.  Walls, bedspread, curtains, sheets…just about anything that could be
was light purple.”

“It’s
true,” Ashley says.  “It was like Barney threw up in her bedroom.”

“Hey!”
Addison exclaims.

“Have
you seen her master bathroom now?” Ashley asks me.

“No.” 

“Same
thing.”

“Some
friend you are.”  Addison narrows her eyes.  “You never said my bathroom looked
like kiddie dinosaur vomit!”

Ashley
shrugs.  “You never asked.”

Unexpectedly,
the door to the studio opens, and every one of us turns to see who’s here. 
When Derek steps inside, it’s like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the
room.  The fun atmosphere evaporates.

Derek
removes his sunglasses and lets the door close behind him.  He looks at Addison. 
“You ready to go?”

“Sure.” 
Addison finds a rag and wipes her fingers.  “Just give me a second.”

Wait
a minute.  Why is she leaving?  I want to ask, but I’m sure that won’t sit well
with present company.  My eyes dart questioningly to Kevin, and he understands.

“Hey,
Derek.”  He extends his hand for a handshake.  “How’s it going?”

Derek
pumps his hand twice.  “Fine.”

Addison
rounds the table to pick up her purse and jacket where she left them by the
wall.

“Where
you off to?” Ashley asks, beating Kevin to the punch.

“We
have that appointment, remember?  I told you.”

Ashley’s
eyes get big.  “That’s today?”

Addison
nods, then looks around the group.  “Thanks for all your help, guys.  We really
made a lot of progress.  I wasn’t kidding about the massages.”  She smiles and
then focuses on me.  “Is the floor guy is still coming on Wednesday?”

I
nod.

“Great. 
I’ll bring the deposit.”

Frowning,
I say, “No.  We talked about this.  You don’t have –”

“I
want to,” she cuts me off.  She waves at us over her shoulder as she turns
toward Derek.  “Gotta run.  See you later.”

Without
so much as a goodbye, her husband ushers her out the door.  When it closes, my
attention jumps to Ashley.  She gives me a resigned look while, out of the
corner of my eye, I see Tara and Noah start to pick up empty boxes for the
trash.  Austin shoves another piece of pizza into his mouth.

Ashley
rounds the table and walks up to me.  “Tell me again how this layout is going
to work.”

“What?”

“Walk
with me,” she whispers.

I
follow by her side as she moves to stand in front of the one wall we haven’t
started working on yet.  Completely unsure I want to know the answer, I ask,
“What’s going on?”

Ashley
looks at her shoes, then at me.  “Addison and Derek are going to marriage
counseling.”

My
brow furrows.  “Since when?”

“Since
now,” she says.  “Tonight is their first session.”

I’m
confused.  “She didn’t tell me.”

“She
told me yesterday,” Ashley sighs.  “Although, I thought they weren’t starting
until next week.  I guess I got my dates mixed up.”

“Who
sees patients this late on a Sunday?” I ask.  “It’s after five.”

“One
of Derek’s colleagues, apparently.  The counseling office is in the same
building as his.”

I
stare at my brother’s fiancée, my mind spinning.  “Am I not supposed to know?”

She
shrugs.  “Addison didn’t tell me
not
to tell you.  Honestly, I figured
she would.”

I
start to pace.  I would have thought she would have told me, too.

“Ask
her about it,” Ashley continues.  “You can tell her you heard it from me.  I
don’t care.”

I
stop in my tracks.  “Do you think Derek pushed her into this?”

“Hell
yes.”  Ashley smirks.  “You know how he reacted when she told him about this
place.”  She gestures around the studio.  “He’s all kinds of insecure right
now.”

Addison
was right when she said Derek would be pissed; she said he stormed out of the
house when she told him.  When he finally came back, he was ready to discuss
the situation.  Addison said they talked about the pros and cons, namely money,
and he seemed to calm down a bit.

“You
really think he’s insecure?” I ask Ashley.

“Wouldn’t
you be?  A man from your wife’s past shows up and hands her her dream.  Don’t
you think that raises a few red flags?”

It
does.  I knew it would, too, but I didn’t care.  All I cared about was Addison’s
happiness.

“Look
at it this way,” Ashley interrupts my thoughts.  “This could be a good thing. 
The two of them might realize they don’t belong together anymore.”

I
raise an eyebrow.  “So, you’re on my team?”

She
gives me a pointed look.  “We’re about to be family.  There is no other team.”

~~~~

Unlocking
the door to the studio Wednesday morning, I impatiently await the arrival of
two people.  One, Jim, the floor refinisher.

The
other, Addison.

We
haven’t spoken since the painting party.  It’s true we don’t talk every single
day, but now that I know she and Derek are consciously working on their
marriage, I question her silence.  Did the counselor, an outside third party,
sway her into believing that my gift was wrong?  Did he denounce our
friendship?  Was I even discussed?  I hate that part of me wonders about this,
and I pray the counselor can remain unbiased, since he knows Derek professionally. 
I’m sure if he took sides it would breach some sort of ethical client/patient
privilege.  I’ve spent the last few days worrying, probably for nothing.  Odds
are they didn’t discuss me at all.

At
least, not at the first meeting.

When
eleven o’clock rolls around, Jim shows up right on time.  We make small talk
while we wait for Addison.  I ask him about his business, and he asks me about
mine.  After a half hour passes and she doesn’t show, I tell him to go ahead
and do the estimate.  While he takes his measurements, I call Sparrow.  When I
get her voicemail, I hang up and send her a text message.

The
floor guy is here.  Where are you?

I
want to add
“Business Ownership 101: Keep all of your appointments,”
but
I don’t.  There’s no need to get shitty just because I’m on edge.

When
Jim completes his quote and hands it to me, I have no problem putting down the
ten percent required to get him started on the job.  As he swipes my credit
card through his cell phone, the door to the studio opens.

“Wait!”

Both
of us turn as Addison rushes through the door.  “I don’t have the deposit,” she
says, her cheeks flushed.

“Too
late,” I tease, relieved to see her and a little pissed at the same time.  “Don’t
worry, I’ve got it.  Jim’s estimate was more than fair.”

Addison
hangs by the door with her hands in her pockets while I set up a date with the
refinisher to get started.  Once those details are finalized, he bids us
farewell and we’re left alone.

“Did
you forget about today,” I ask as I walk toward her.  “Where were you?”

“Packing.”

I
freeze and stare at her.  Now that I’m closer, I can see, along with her pink
cheeks, the tops of her ears are red.  Also, her hair looks tangled, like she’s
pushed it behind her ears one too many times.  “What’s going on?”