In my mind, the wall had been Waverly's face, and the crowbar had been, well, a crowbar actually. I never would've committed such violence in real life, but the whole thing had been surprisingly fun, just like last week when I'd taken the same crowbar to an upstairs closet.
To Brody, I said, "The funny thing is, I like all of it."
"All of it?" he said. "Even Roy's camera?"
I knew what he meant. For whatever reason, Roy seemed to take a particular interest in whatever I was doing, especially if I was doing it near Brody. I knew it was part of the job, but there were times when it was a little unsettling.
With a laugh, I admitted, "Well, maybe I could use a little less camera time."
"You want me to talk to him?"
The offer caught me off guard. "What would you say?"
"I'd tell him to knock it off, find someone else to focus on."
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "But even you said he's just doing his job."
"It doesn't matter," Brody said. "Say the word, and I'll make it stop."
Judging from his tone, I almost believed him. "You wouldn't, really?"
"I would," he said.
He sounded absolutely sincere, and I was embarrassingly touched by the offer. Still, it seemed wrong to take Brody up on it. After all, I'd signed a contract, and I wasn't the type to not live up to my end of the bargain.
"Nah," I said. "But thanks. Seriously."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure." I perked up. "And besides, it will be fun to see the finished product."
"You mean the house?"
"The house and the show." Still, at the thought of things actually ending, I felt an all-too familiar pang in my heart. As we walked along, I added, "If you want the truth, I'll be a little sorry to see it done. I mean, I'll be glad to see the house restored and all, but it'll be strange when it's over. You know?"
His voice grew quiet. "I do."
We were silent for another long moment, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Brody was thinking the same thing I was thinking.
What would happen when the house was done?
Would we go our separate ways?
I hated the thought more than I cared to admit. And judging from Brody's lingering silence, maybe he wasn't too thrilled with the idea either.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. I hadn't been lying. The last couple of months had been some of the happiest of my whole life.
I adored what I was doing – and who I was doing it with.
Brody.
He was nothing like I'd expected.
And now, I couldn’t help but recall how much I'd hated him back in high school. As we continued along the moonlit beach, I said, "Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Remember that English assignment? The fiction-writing thing?" With an embarrassed laugh, I said, "You know, the one with the candy store?"
"I remember."
"Why did you hate it so much? I mean, I could see where you wouldn't love it. But it seemed like it almost made you mad or something."
He was quiet for several long moments. "You want the truth?" he finally said. "I wasn't mad. I was jealous."
I stopped walking. "Jealous? Why?"
"Maybe it was all the candy." His tone grew teasing. "And wasn't there ice cream, too?"
There had been ice cream, not at the candy store itself. But in my fictional world, the parents had been stupidly fond of taking the family out for ice cream.
In hindsight, I guess it was pretty ridiculous. Still, I teased, "What do you have against ice cream?"
"Nothing," he said. "Maybe I was hungry. And you had it all."
"Oh stop it," I laughed. "You know it wasn't real, don't you? I mean, look at your paper. Yours had an alien eating the world. I knew that wasn't real, so you had to know that mine wasn't real, too. Right?"
He gave my hand a tender squeeze. "I know now."
And something in his voice made me wonder if there was more to what he was saying. But I didn't ask – just like I didn't ask a lot of things as the house moved ever closer to completion.
Chapter 46
Arden
"So," Cami said, "is he going to let you buy it?"
She meant the house, of course.
The question was a dark cloud over my otherwise happy mood. "I don't know," I said. "We never talk about it."
It was almost seven o'clock at night, and I was hunkered down in my bedroom talking to Cami on my cell phone while Brody was away, meeting with his brothers on some company business.
Cami said, "But why wouldn't you talk about it?"
"It just seems wrong. That's all."
"Why?" she laughed. "Because you're donking him?"
I didn't see the humor. "Yeah. I guess."
"So?" she said.
I sighed. "So I don't want him to think that I'm 'donking' him for all the wrong reasons, like to get him to sell me the house or something."
"Oh, please," she said. "He'd never think that."
"But how can you be sure?" I asked.
"Because no one would. You're not the type."
I frowned. "And what type is that?"
"Oh, you know," she said. "The type to ho yourself out for a beach house, or cripes, even rent money."
She was right.
I wasn't the type. And yet, her words served as yet another reminder that in spite of everything, I still wanted the house. And Brody still wasn't giving it up – at least not that I knew of.
Maybe it was time to give it another try.
By now, I'd had a steady paycheck for nearly three months. It was true that I'd spent some of that money on student loan payments, along with some basic necessities here and there. But I'd saved almost all of the rest. And I still had the bonus coming at the end
