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“Why the hell didn’t you text me from the driveway? I would’ve come out and helped you.”
He dropped all the bags on the kitchen counter and spun, arms flexed. “Who needs help when you’ve got the gun show in town?” He kissed one bicep, and she rolled her eyes before he got his lips on the other.
“How’s your leg?” she asked.
He stilled for a second. No one else would notice, but she did. “It’s fine.”
No one else would have noticed the slight misstep either, but she always did. There’d be weeks when he didn’t limp at all, but every now and again his leg would act up out of nowhere. He was always grumpy when it did, though he tried his best to pretend like nothing was wrong. But Harper knew the pain was a reminder of all he lost that day. Without the pain, he could momentarily forget, but every time it showed up, it was like a billboard erecting, showcasing the accident and bringing it to the forefront of his mind.
They’d both missed out on their futures for circumstances out of their control, but at the end of the day, she was grateful they had each other.
She didn’t push on the topic of his leg;it would only aggravate him, and she couldn’t do that when his favorite holiday was only days away.
She meandered over to the counter and peeked inside the bags. All his usual Memorial Day party staples were there: ground beef for burgers, hotdogs, pickles, three different types of cheese, avocados, chips, dips, blueberries, strawberries… Her eyes drifted to the pint of ice cream and a smile bloomed on her face.
“You bought me more ice cream?”
“You went to town on the last one. Now you won’t have to make an emergency stop when the mood hits again.”
She hugged the ice cream to her chest. “You’re the best.”
“Remember that when you get mad at me.”
She tilted her head and shucked his chin. “I never get mad at you.”
He took the meat out and put the packages in the fridge. “What about last week?”
She grabbed the avocadoes and shot him a look. “You dropped my toothbrush in the toilet and almost didn’t tell me!”
“But I did tell you.”
“After I already put toothpaste on it.”
He snapped his finger and pointed at her. “But I told you.”
“All I’m saying is you’re lucky that toothbrush did not go anywhere near my mouth.” She put the chips in the pantry and the reusable bags in the closet.
Milo’s lips parted, a smirk on his face, but he stopped and nodded toward the coffee table. “What’s with all the glasses?”
“For Sofia’s graduation party.”
“How many do you have to do a day to finish in time?”
“Four. I gave myself wiggle room.” For a simple design, she’d be able to knock out at least half in a day, but this design was a little more complex. She had to paint Sofia’s portrait with a graduation cap on and beneath it the year on all fifty glasses. It would take time, patience, and a steady hand.
“I can help,” Milo said.
“No,” she deadpanned. Milo was many things, but artistic was not one of them. Nor was he patient or have a steady hand. The last time he tried painting a heart on a wine glass, it looked more like a butt. While it was entertaining, and they laughed about it for a good twenty minutes, tonight she didn’t have time to joke around. She needed to focus to stay on schedule.
“Sheesh don’t hesitate or anything.”
“Don’t act hurt. You couldn’t even draw a stick figure to save your life.”
“Maybe not, but if it was your life, I might give it a little more effort.” He winked at her, and she laughed.
“I’m flattered, really. You’re still not helping.”
He pouted his lip. But that had lost its effect at around eighth grade. He still pulled it out on occasion.
