CHAPTERTHREE
Melody
Ishower in record time, feeling guilty that I’ve left Lucas, a virtual stranger, downstairs fixing up my shithole of a kitchen. I was beyond grateful for his help getting the mattress inside last night, though. I had movers in Kansas who’d packed up the truck with all our stuff. Stupidly, I hadn’t thought about how I’d get everything unpacked at this end.
When I’ve dried off, I pull on some yoga pants and a tank and braid my wet hair down my back. My hairdryer, along with all my other stuff, is still in the truck, but it’s warm today and my hair will dry in no time. I help Roman brush his teeth before quickly dressing him and heading downstairs.
Walking into the kitchen, I gasp. “Wow, Lucas. It looks so much better in here already.”
He stands and chuckles. “I’ve only tightened the hinges on the doors and fixed the blind. There’s not much I can do with the countertops. They need replacing, but the walls just need a fresh coat of paint and it’ll look as good as new.” He places the screwdriver on the countertop and grins at me. “I have an idea.”
He rushes out of the kitchen and I follow him, jogging to catch up. “Where are you going?” I call out as he runs down the porch steps and across to his house.
“I’ll be right back,” he shouts over his shoulder.
“Does he have to go and put out a fire, Mommy?” Roman asks excitedly from the side of me.
I smile. “I don’t think so, baby.” I ruffle his hair. He’s a little obsessed with anything to do with the emergency services. Firemen and fire trucks especially. I know how excited he must have been when Lucas told him he was a firefighter.
“Look! He’s coming back!” he shouts, pointing across the front yard.
I look across to see Lucas walking back toward us with a can of paint in one hand and a roller in the other. I frown, my eyes following him as he comes up the driveway and stops on the porch steps.
“What are you doing?” I ask, glancing down at his hands.
“I painted my bedroom a couple of months ago. There should be enough paint left to do your kitchen. It’s just white, so nothing exciting, but it’ll brighten up the space.”
“You can’t paint the kitchen!”
“Why not?”
I pull my eyebrows together in confusion. “Look, I’m grateful for your help with the tap and the cabinets, but I think I can handle it from here.” I feel guilty enough that I’ve taken up his time.
He holds my gaze for a few seconds before nodding slowly. “Oh, okay.” He places the can of paint and the roller on the floor. “I’ll leave you the paint. I don’t need it. I guess I’ll see you around, then.”
He jogs down the porch steps and across the driveway before I can reply.
“Why did you send Lucas away, Mommy?” Roman asks, tugging on my hand.
“What? I didn’t send him away.”
“He looked sad.”
“No, he didn’t,” I tell him, glancing over to Lucas’s place. I frown, hoping I didn’t come across as rude. I just don’t want him to feel obligated to help us. It’s my mess, and I’m going to have to be the one to figure it out.
I step inside the entryway and grab my phone off the bottom step of the stairs. I search my contacts for the landlord’s number and hold the phone to my ear. When it goes straight to voicemail again, I sigh and leaveanothermessage to go with the previous three I’ve left.
“Right!” I exclaim, slipping my phone into my pocket. “Everywhere is as clean as I can get it. Let’s get our stuff in before the truck is picked up tomorrow. Will you help me?” I ask Roman, who nods.
A couple of hours later and, other than the sofa and my bedroom furniture, everything is out of the truck and in the house. There’s no way I can move the heavier stuff, and after telling Lucas I could handle everything, I don’t want to ask him. I’m hoping the guy who comes to collect the truck tomorrow will help me.
There are boxes and stuff everywhere. While I’ve unpacked some things, I know Roman is bored and we’re both hungry. I brought some food with us, but it was only ever meant to last a couple of days. I desperately need some groceries.
“Okay, Rome. Let’s take your bike and go get some food. I’m starving!”
“Yay!” he shouts, and I chuckle. He’s been so good the past few days, and while grocery shopping is another boring chore, at least if we take his bike, it makes it a little more exciting.
It only takes us ten minutes to get into the center of Armstrong. I’ve pretty much run the whole way, trying to keep up with Roman on his bike. He still has his training wheels, but I don’t think he’s going to need them for long. He’s so confident. When I’ve got the house sorted, I’ll look at taking them off. He’ll be so excited to ride without them.