She’s coming over. To my house. I look at Maurice. “She’s coming over.”
He licks my leg. What does he know about it?
I showed up at work today and saw the lead kit results on my desk. I should have called Eila immediately, shared the good news with her about the soil beside her house.
I don’t know why I sat on the news, waffled all day about the perfect way to convey the information. And now she’s coming over to hear it from me in person.
Should I clean? I glance around my house. Everything is already pretty tidy. My mom would probably light one of those scented candles, but those give me a headache. I don’t really think Eila’s into that sort of thing anyway.
I grab the broom and furiously sweep the floor, and then I notice some swirls of dog hair blowing around so I grab the handheld vacuum instead, along with my noise canceling headphones that hang on a hook beside the vacuum. I frantically suck up every speck of fur floating in my living room and tell myself that will have to do when it comes to prepping for my visit from Eila.
I sit on the floor and scratch Maurice’s belly while I wait for her to arrive and, an eternity later, I hear a soft tap on the door. I must fly over to open it too quickly because she rears her head back when I pull the door in with a rush.
“Sorry.” I’m always apologizing. I need to work on that. I’m allowed to be here and I’m allowed to be who I am. It’s okay to be different from other people. If I repeat these mantras enough, my therapist assures me I will begin to believe them.
Eila shrugs and steps inside, stooping to greet Maurice, which sets me more at ease. “What’s up?” She lifts her brows.
Since she’s already down low with the dog, I sit on the floor with both of them, smiling. “You do not have excessive levels of lead in your soil. Well. The city’s soil. Your lot is okay.”
Her face brightens and she brings her hands up to her mouth. “Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious,” I tease, and she pushes my shoulder, laughing.
“That’s incredible, Ben. Thank you.” She stands up and jumps up and down a few times, chanting yes, yes, yes. “I really needed that news today.”
She looks around the room, looking for somewhere to sit. But I’ve only got the one chair and the piano bench, so she just sits back down with me and Maurice on the floor.
“You had a bad day?”
She nods. “More like a bad … life? Bad couple of years? Anyway, I needed a win.”
“Hm.” I don’t like hearing her talk this way about her challenges. It worries me. One thing I do know about myself is that I get very fixated on my worries when they involve people I care about. And I care about Eila Storm. “Want to talk about it?”
Eila seems to consider this. Eventually, she says, “I really don’t. Thank you, though. You know my whole…” She waves a hand around. “You know my situation. And for some reason you’re on board to help me with this hare-brained scheme, so that tells me it can’t be too awful of an idea.”
“What makes you say that?”
She smiles. “You aren’t the kind of guy who pursues anything hare-brained.”
“I guess that’s fair. And accurate. And you don’t mind that? Me being serious all the time?”
Her smile widens and my stomach flips at the sight. “I mind enough to tease you about it. But no, Ben. Of course I don’t mind. You’re just being you.”
How long have I waited to find someone who sees me just being myself and … appreciates that rather than finds it weird or off-putting? My own mother has worked herself into fits trying to change the parts of me that Eila seems to accept without question. I think back to my conversation with Cash, how he encouraged me to go big and be bold with this woman. I blow out a breath, steeling myself.
“Eila.” I touch her hand. It’s warm and firm and sturdy. “You know I’m wild about you, right?”
She nods her head. “Yes. The wooing. You’ve mentioned it.” She turns her hand over in mine and squeezes.
I have no idea how to read this signal from her and I want to growl and scream and lunge at her… I close my eyes and ask, “Can I kiss you?”