Page 57 of If You Were Mine (After We Fall 3)
“Flowy?”
“Yes, I know it’s stone, but I want it to have movement. Flow. The pattern in it, I mean. Some of these are more static—the ones with flecks or spots. Others, like this one behind me, have veins reminiscent of water flowing. I like that.”
“Got it. Come with me.” As we walked, he explained that while slate was durable, non-porous, and stood up well to heat, it probably didn’t have the look I wanted. “Granite is higher maintenance for sure, but I think it’s going to be what you want. In terms of looks, it’s more striking, and has that quality of movement you’re looking for.”
“The pr
etty ones are always high maintenance, aren’t they?”
He grinned, elbowing me in the side. “Not always.”
* * *
After we were done at the stoneworks, we went back to my house, where we attached new hardware to the freshly stained cupboard doors and hung them again.
“They look great. Are you happy with the color?” Theo asked.
“Yes. I love it!” I clapped my hands. “I know it’s dark, but that makes it more authentic. Let’s look at the tile samples for the floor.”
He laid them out at the base of the cupboards, and we stood back to inspect them. “I like the idea of the hexagonal, but if you’re going to make a statement with the counters, I’d probably go with the large square travertine.”
“I think you’re right. I might—”
I was interrupted by a knock on the front door. A voice rang out. “Yoo-hoo! Claire?”
“Mom?” Theo and I exchanged a glance.
“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked, dear. Someone could walk right in.” She appeared in the entrance to the kitchen and noticed Theo. “Oh, hello!”
“Hello.” Theo nodded.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.” But her smile told me how happy she was about it. She set down the shopping bags she carried and smoothed her honey-colored bob.
“Mom, this is my friend Theo MacLeod. He’s helping me with the kitchen rehab.”
“How wonderful!” My mother came into the kitchen and pulled off her gloves. “Nice to meet you. I’m Carol French.”
Theo shook the hand she offered. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. French.” Then he stuffed both hands in his pockets.
“Oh, please. Call me Carol.” She clasped her hands at her waist and looked delighted. “I just dropped by to bring you some groceries. Last time I was here, your fridge was nearly empty.” She was talking to me, ostensibly, but she never took her eyes off Theo.
“Thanks. We were just checking out our work on the cabinet doors. Didn’t the stain come out beautifully?” I stepped aside so she could admire them.
“Mmm, nice.” She gave them a cursory glance and beamed at Theo. “What do you do, Theo? Are you a builder or something?”
His cheeks colored. “No.”
“Just handy, then?” She winked at me. “That’s always helpful. Your father is a disaster in that area. I practically have to call someone every time I need a picture hung or a light bulb changed!”
“Dad’s a judge, Mom. He’s good at other things.”
She waved a hand in the air. “I suppose. Anyway, Theo, are you a teacher, then?”
Theo, who was looking a little panicked, threw me a look that I recognized as a question. Oh, right. He wants to know what to say. I hadn’t thought about this yet—what was our story? I decided to go with something close to the truth.
“Theo owns his own business.”
“An entrepreneur! How nice.” Her eyes drifted over Theo’s face, his broad shoulders and chest. “And so handsome.”
