As Long as You Love Me Read online

Once he asked, I felt like a dipshit. “You make a valid point.”

  At that point, silence seemed like the best option, so I worked my way to the corner. The molding looked a lot better just from what I’d already done; Rob had finished two walls to my one. When I sat back on my knees, he straightened and came over to give me a hand up. With an easy tug, he hauled me upright. The motion brought me a little too close; I thumped against his chest and for a confused moment, I breathed in the clean scent of him, an incredible mix of wood shavings and wintry air.

  “Sorry about that. We should take a break or you’ll get cramps. Want a beer?”

  “Not really. Water’s fine.”

  Rob opened a bottle and got me a glass of ice water, then he beckoned from the stairs. Curious, I followed him up; the hall was dark and cold, but then he opened a door, and I discovered the one room he’d completed. It was a good size, divided into living and sleeping, which made sense. I suspected this was where Rob spent his time if he wasn’t working. On the opposite wall, beside the window, he had a full-sized bed with a nightstand beside it, and he was using a bookshelf at the foot to divide the space. A couple of chairs sat centered on the other side, facing a small entertainment center to the left of the door.

  None of the furniture in here was prefab; everything was real wood, polished to a high gloss. The floor gleamed around the edges of the area rug, and I dug my toes into the green plush. He’d painted the walls caramel, though he’d call it light brown, and there were blinds on the windows, unlike the rest of the house. An electric fireplace hung on one wall, providing light and warmth. I walked across the room to run my hand over the table, admiring the smooth finish.

  “You like it?” he asked.

  “Definitely, it’s great.” There were no drawers, only a lower shelf, but Rob didn’t have much clutter. The bookshelf held only a few magazines, along with a handful of change, receipts, bits and bobs he must’ve pulled out of his pockets.

  His smile twisted me up. “That was the first thing I ever made. The bed’s mine, too. I put it together from salvage.”

  Startled, I took a closer look; it was a slatted headboard, stained dark, attached to an impressive platform bed. But on closer inspection, I could see how he’d taken two railroad ties and covered them with plywood. Ingenious, really.

  “Wow, you could seriously design furniture.”

  “That’s the dream.” But he didn’t sound like he believed anyone would pay him for it. I totally would, though. It was solid and beautiful, just like Rob.

  “How much to build me a bed like yours?”

  I’d surprised him in the middle of a swig of beer. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, how much? My mom and I were just talking about redecorating my room.” We hadn’t mentioned a new bed, but it was my money.

  “Twin or full?”

  “Twin.” A pang of chagrin went through me because that was a kid’s bed, but I couldn’t afford a bigger one and a new mattress. At this rate he’d always see me as a little girl.

  “A hundred bucks.”

  I frowned at him. “That sounds low.”

  Which he met with a melting smile. “You’re getting the friends-and-family discount...and hey, you’re giving me the satisfaction of serving my first customer.”

  Somehow I didn’t flirt, didn’t say any of the cute things trembling on the tip my tongue. He has a girlfriend. That means he’s off-limits.

  Rob building my bed was likely the closest I’d ever come to having him in it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Monday, I saddled up the wild interwebs and sent my résumé to a dozen places.

  I didn’t have high hopes for a day job, given my car situation, but it would drive me nuts to sit around waiting for summer session to start. I’d already decided against typical college enrollment. I hated sitting through lectures for many reasons, so University of Nebraska online fit the bill. I planned to apply for their information assurance program, transferring my general studies credits, so I needed the concentration courses...and maybe a few electives, depending on how things shook out. Their site promised that I could transfer up to sixty-four hours from Mount Albion, which was more than half of the 120-hour degree. Going part-time, it would take me three years or so to finish up, but it would be worth it, especially if I landed a job that let me stay in Sharon.

  That took all of an hour. This chilly morning, my mom was at work, and I had no car. Buying one was a pipe dream, at least until I could afford gas and insurance. When Nadia was around, I never worried about it; in high school, I called her whenever I needed a ride, and it was the same in Michigan. My heart twisted when I thought about how sad she had been to learn I hated college, but the longer we went to Mount Albion, the clearer it became to me that it was her dream, not mine, and I was going through the motions. The more my grades dropped and dropped, the more I drank and partied, trying to hide my unhappiness.

  Until I couldn’t anymore.

  I had just over five hundred bucks in my checking account because I’d just deposited my last paycheck, but I owed half to my former roommate, Angus, in return for buying my plane ticket home. In a burst of financial genius, I’d promised another hundred to Rob to build me a bed. That left me relatively little to survive on until I found a job. The humiliation would kill me if my mom tried to give me an allowance. Though I was happy to be back in Sharon, sometimes it was hard to shrug off the stares and speculation.

  With a faint sigh, I wrote out a check to Angus Starr. I’d often teased him that he totally had a porn star name. I miss you, dude. I wondered how my three former roomies were doing; they were all I missed about Michigan. I smooched the stamp when I stuck it on the envelope, then I wrote a card to go along with repayment. While Angus had a fat enough bank account not to miss a couple hundred bucks, I didn’t enjoy mooching off my friends. Sadly, walking out to the mailbox and raising the flag took care of my to-do list for the day.

  I huddled deeper in my down jacket, turning back toward the house. Except a red truck slowed, then pulled into our gravel drive. I recognized Rob right away; I just had no idea what he was doing here at two on a Monday. The sky sputtered snow that drifted down in light, delicate flakes. If the ground wasn’t already frozen, this wouldn’t stick.

  “I brought some stain samples,” he said in lieu of greeting.

  Ah, so this was about the bed. “You should probably bring them inside. It’s really cold.”

  “Thanks.” He followed me into the house while I tried to figure out how bad I looked on a scale of one to ten. Definitely better than when we ran in to each other at the Safeway, nowhere near as good as Saturday night.

  Then I dismissed the question as absurd. “Do you want some coffee?”

  “Sure, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “Not at all.”

  After dumping the old stuff my mom made this morning, I brewed a fresh pot, then poured him a cup. He laid some small boards on the table, touching and naming each in turn. “Oak, pine, mahogany, maple, red chestnut, cherry, walnut.”

  “The red chestnut is beautiful.”

  “Okay.” Rob put away the samples and took a sip of his coffee, relaxing into his chair with a pleased expression.

  “We might have some cake, too, if you want.”

  “Like I’d say no to cake.”

  I took that as an invitation to rummage in the fridge and I came out with a couple of slices of German chocolate, which was my absolute favorite. My mom made it a few days ago in honor of me moving back in. I should probably be ashamed that there were only two pieces left. Mentally I shrugged and served him on the good plates.

  “How come you aren’t at work? I know why I’m not.” I pointed at myself and whispered, “Unemployed,” like it was a curse word.

  “I don’t do a lot in the winter,”
he said, seeming surprised. “Spring and summer are better for construction, and I have to make my money last the whole year. I’m...not awesome at it.”

  Hmm. Rob wasn’t the first person I’d known to struggle with that, but most of my friends were like, Whee, there goes my textbook money, while ordering another round of shots.

  “You just need to divide your total income by twelve and work out how much you can spend monthly. It helps if you track expenditures and figure out where your disposable income goes. I could put together a spreadsheet.”

  “That sounds complicated.”

  Not to a computer girl. In my secret nerdy heart, I loved spreadsheets, pie charts, line graphs and all kinds of numbers. Once I made up a sex flow chart of everyone I’d slept with, and their partners that I knew of but that started to get weird, so I deleted the file. I’d be taking that secret to my grave.

  “I don’t mind helping,” I said, mostly because I didn’t want to admit it would be easy, at least not with Rob looking like I’d confessed to speaking ancient Greek.

  “What would you need?”

  “Bank statements, basically. And you’d have to help me classify your expenses.”

  “If you do that, I can’t let you pay for the bed.”

  Oh, look, an excuse to spend hours with Rob. High School Me shouted in elation, but she also bitched about what a stupid reason it was to hang out with him. There was nothing sexy about formulating a monthly budget.

  “Then a trade definitely benefits me.”

  He nodded, finishing his cake. “Avery won’t be back from Omaha until next month, so this is a good time to figure things out.”

  “I thought you said she was visiting her cousin for the weekend.”

  A sigh escaped him. “Yeah, well, I got it wrong. She left early to spend time with her cousin. Then today, she started a management training seminar. She’ll be back in March. I think.” But he didn’t sound sure. “I have to really piss her off to get that tone.”

  “Which one?”

  “‘Jesus, do you even listen to a word I say’?” He captured her icy snap so well, a shudder went through me.

  I can’t believe she talks to him like that.

  Before I could decide how to respond, he went on, “It’s a good thing I’m hot, right?” Under most circumstances, that would qualify as a cocky remark—one that was supposed to make me laugh—but the underlying sadness I’d glimpsed in him before rebounded, lending him a stark, shadowed air.

  I weighed my response before saying, “That’s not all you are, Rob.”

  He got up and took his plate to the sink. “You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

  Shock reverberated through me. I’d said the same thing in Michigan when I rejected a guy who wanted to date me. Luckily Rob’s back was to me, so he didn’t notice my reaction. I schooled my expression, so by the time he turned around, I was clearing the table.

  “I’ve known you longer than Avery.” While they’d been dating since October, I had been wandering around his house since second grade.

  “That’s true.”

  In a tone I’d use for an oral report, I said, “When I was in fourth grade, you carried my science fair project to the gym for me, even though you had to walk six blocks to the junior high afterward, and you got detention. That same year, you got into a fight with Ellis Whitcomb over Melissa Fredericks. She would later become your first high school girlfriend, though not the last. That honor went to Katie Everett, who you dated right up until she left for college.”

  And then she left without a second look. Maybe I should change this up.

  “When I was a junior, you punched Kent Walker for me, and my senior year, you took me to see my dad for the first time in seven years.”

  My mom still didn’t know about that, and at the time, I was so mad at her, sure it was her fault—that she’d driven him away somehow. I blamed them in stages, back and forth, like the clicking balls in a Newton’s cradle. Back then, Rob drove a different truck, an old green one passed down from his granddad, nicknamed Tessa Green-tea for reasons known only to Rob. I’d cornered him in the garage while he was working on the engine. Nadia had been upstairs doing homework, and she thought I’d gone to the kitchen for a snack. Instead, I’d slipped outside and shuffled around until Rob straightened and faced me.

  At twenty-one, he’d been leaner, with less muscle built over years of summer construction jobs. “Need something?”

  “I was wondering if you’d do me a favor.”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  My breath came out in a shaky rush. “I need to see my dad. I have to talk to him.”

  I’d had a horrendous fight with my mom. Her apathy and apparent lack of self-respect—the way she could barely manage to go through the motions—had made me scream at her, Just look at yourself. I so get why he left you. I’d planned to race to my dad’s side and tell him I understood everything now and please, can’t I be part of your awesome new life? A fresh start away from the rumors about my mother’s sanity had sounded perfect, what I wanted most.

  Rob had wiped his hands on a rag, then said, “What did your mom say?”

  “She doesn’t know. Will you take me? I can give you gas money.” At the time, Nadia had her license and a car. I could’ve asked her to drive me but I was afraid she’d punk out and blab to my mom about the plan. Why I had no such fear with him, to this day, I didn’t understand.

  “Why don’t you call him?”

  “I just need to see him. Please, Rob?” What I didn’t tell him was that I didn’t plan on coming home. I’d live with my dad from then on; my mom could ship my clothes, presuming she could manage it. Whatever, I’d buy more. I just wanted out. Her depression had only made my issues worse, and it had been all I could do to sit through a school day. It would be different with my dad; everything would be fine.

  In the end, Rob had sighed and agreed.

  With his help, I found my dad, unemployed, living in a shitty apartment with some woman I’d never heard of, apparently raising a couple of her kids. One might’ve been his—I was too upset to get the facts straight. But the worst part was, he didn’t even look happy to see me. To him, I was a nuisance. He invited us in, but we didn’t stay longer than half an hour, after coming all that way. Out in the parking lot, I burst into tears and Rob just hugged me. He didn’t say anything at all, probably because he knew no words could make it better. So there was no way I’d let him disparage himself now when he’d been proving his worth my entire life.

  “I remember that,” he said finally.

  “Me, too.”

  The silence between us was odd and fraught, laced with old memories. I wondered if he had any idea that I used to crouch beneath the banisters and watch him with Katie Everett. In my head, he was still the gold standard for kissing, just endless tenderness without rushing straight for boobs or butt. Though four of the eight guys I’d slept with were good in bed, none had that quintessential Rob patience, and if he’d been that way in high school, his control as a man must be awe-inspiring.

  Lucky Avery.

  I siphoned the bitterness out of the thought as he studied my face. I’d never noticed him doing that before, but I felt each shift and slip of his gaze, as if his eyes were zoom lenses. My heart thumped so hard in my chest that I was afraid he’d hear it. Really, I should be over this.

  “Do you mind if I take some measurements in your bedroom?”

  Do anything you want in there.

  “Go ahead. I do that all the time for fun. I’m like, ‘I wonder if this wall is ten or eleven feet long. Let’s find out!’” My voice came out manic-perky.

  Rob cut me a strange look as he brushed by and headed for the stairs. He was efficient with the tape measuring, checking the spot my new bed would occupy. But having him up here made me wan
t to die because it reinforced every preconception he must have about my maturity. I sat on a stuffed unicorn and hated my life.

  But then he surprised me by saying, “I can see why you’re redecorating. It’s been a long time, huh?”

  Grateful, I beamed up at him. “Yeah.”

  Smiling back, he tapped the tip of my nose. “So when do you want to work on my spreadsheet?”

  I shrugged. “It’s not like I have a job. And I meant to tell you, if I was remotely helpful the other day, I’m glad to pitch in again, anytime you need me.”

  “If you’re serious, we could get a lot done while Avery’s gone.” His expression suggested this was a prison furlough. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on my part.

  I quelled the urge to snap at him to break up with her already. When a guy like Rob committed to a relationship, only C-4 could shake him loose...and questioning his choice might make him determined to dig in.

  “Absolutely.” Though I hated myself for wondering, I had to know. “Do you miss her?”

  He nodded. “We don’t make sense on paper, but she needs me. That...doesn’t happen a lot. She calls me some nights before bed, says she can’t sleep unless she hears my voice. She’s really funny, too.”

  In a mean way, I guessed silently. But these insights actively wounded me, picturing their conversations while Rob lay in bed. Her voice was the last thing he heard, too.

  I kept my tone level as I changed the subject. “How about this? We work on remodeling until we’re tired. Then we rest and tackle your budget. When you get sick of that, we resume sanding or whatever.”

  “I can’t take up all your time,” he protested.

  “What’s a month? I need to keep busy or I’ll doubt my decision to come home.”

  “It’s a deal. I’ll have your bed done by next week.”

  “Do you deliver?”

  “If you need me to.”

  So many things I could say. But I forced myself not to be flirty. That was mostly a front anyway, manufactured to keep guys from figuring out how weird and awkward I could be. Left to my own devices, I’d rather watch llama gifs than go to a club. Ironic, since I’d learned all kinds of moves from music videos on the internet. Nadia thought I’d suddenly blossomed in tenth grade, but everything I knew about hair and makeup, I’d learned from YouTube tutorials. I could fake being a regular girl, but really, I was still besties with my laptop and PlayStation, which helped me perfect mad dance skills through gaming.