Mister Fixit (Love in New York #3) (8 page)

I laugh, knowing she means well, but also fully aware of the fact that I’ve already been hurt enough. And she can’t guarantee my safety any more than my brothers or my attorney could.

“Come over for dinner tomorrow,” she suggests. “It’s just going to be James and Rob, nobody else.”

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

I smile weakly. “Take your pick.”

She sighs heavily, but comes into the house with me. Thankfully, she takes the hint and lets sleeping dogs lie for the rest of her visit, and I see her off thirty minutes later with a kiss and a promise to stay in touch.

Chapter Twelve

I’M EATING PIZZA WHILE STANDING at the kitchen counter when I hear my front door open.

“Anybody home?” he asks.

Robinson
.

I can’t believe the nerve of him. He just walks into my house after I told him to get the hell away and never come back? And I thought I locked that damn thing. How did he get in? I must have just left it open.
Damn
. What’s wrong with me? This isn’t Little House on the Prairie, for God’s sake. A gangbanger could walk in here and I’d have to offer him a slice of pepperoni pizza.

I keep chewing my slice, hoping if I’m quiet enough, he’ll give up and go away.

I should have known better, though. He comes around the corner and looks startled when he sees me. Then he smiles. “Hey there. I wasn’t sure if you were home or not.”

“So you just decided to walk in.” I keep chewing, even though my food tastes like cardboard now.

“Thought you could use some help. I came dressed to work.” He looks down at his flannel and jeans. Even his work boots look like they’ve seen some action. I hate that he’s better at this than I am.

“No thanks. I’m all set.”

His gaze drops to the counter where I have all the estimates lined up. All told, I have two roofing estimates, two plumbing ones, three willing electricians, and one landscape guy.

“Wow, you’ve been busy. Day two, and you already have all these estimates? Good for you.”

I want to throw my soda in his face, but I steady my hand in my pocket instead where it can’t do any harm. Rationally I know he’s just trying to be nice; but I don’t want him to pretend to be something he’s really, really not.

He walks over to get a better look at my paperwork. “Oh, ouch. That one hurts.” He points to my first roofing estimate, fifty percent higher than the second one I received just an hour ago from a guy who actually went up into the attic.

I don’t say anything in response. Maybe he’ll get the hint and leave if I don’t engage in any conversation at all.

“I know this company,” he says, pointing to the hot plumber. “They have a great reputation.”

I think about the email I got from that guy on my phone just an hour ago. He offered to go over the estimate at dinner. I considered it an offer for a date, not a plumbing job, and I wasn’t really interested until I just found out that Robinson knows of him.

“The owner asked me out,” I say, hoping it’ll make Robinson mad. Maybe Leah’s right. Maybe he was harboring a secret crush on me. I almost wish it were true, just so this admission of mine will make him regret something for once.

Robinson shrugs. “I don’t know him personally.” He looks up. “He a nice guy?”

I shrug too. If he can play it cool, so can I. “Don’t know. Just met him. Seems nice enough. Very good-looking.”

Robinson’s gaze flickers and then he’s looking at the estimates again. “So your plan is to open this space up, I take it.” He points to something on the plumbing papers. “He’s going to re-route all those pipes.” His thumb jabs over his shoulder at the wall I ruined. In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to do that without first having a plan. The plumber, Jake, was kind enough to point this out without making me seem like a complete idiot.

“Yep.” I close the pizza box and wipe my hands off on a paper towel. “Listen, I was about to get back to work, so if you don’t mind…”

Robinson is back to looking at me and smiling. “Sure. No problem. Where do you want to start?”

“I don’t need your help.” I grit my teeth together in an effort to hold onto my temper.

“Sure you do. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

“I’m not stubborn, Robinson. I’m actually very flexible and willing to do whatever needs to be done, especially when the shit is hitting the fan and everyone else is falling apart. But you know that about me already, don’t you? You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“How about if I install your new front door lock and handle?”

I left the hardware on the floor in the foyer, intending to watch some videos online to teach myself how to do it.

“That’s on my list for tomorrow,” I inform him, glancing down at the list from hell that’s now onto its third page.

“Great,” he says, moving into the other room. “We’ll be ahead of schedule, then.”

I sigh long and loud, but ultimately decide to leave him to his Good Samaritan work. If he thinks this will earn him forgiveness from me, then he’s sorely mistaken. You don’t take a child from a woman and then come fix a front door lock and make everything okay. That’s not how the world works, and it’s definitely not how
I
work.

I pick up my phone and read the email from the plumber again. He seemed really nice. Considerate. He smiled a lot too. Maybe that means he has a great sense of humor, someone I could hang out with and forget my miserable life for a few hours.

I email him back, taking him up on the offer of a dinner to discuss the estimate. What the heck; even if he turns out to be a complete dode, at least I’ll learn a lot about plumbing so it won’t be a complete loss.

When his positive response and the name of the restaurant come back, I smile to myself. He’s got class, too. He shows up to give estimates on time, he offers to explain said estimate to me over dinner, and he suggests a restaurant I only go to for special occasions? Color me impressed. Gee, maybe he’s the total package. Maybe he’s not the kind of person who would sell a girl out for an hourly rate of five hundred bucks an hour, unlike some people around here.

I keep myself busy taking off cabinet doors in the kitchen that I plan to refinish as Robinson works at the front door. The cold air he’s letting in makes the place twice as freezing as it already was, so I put my jacket on. My fingers are frozen by the time he’s done and back in the kitchen.

“You should get a space heater,” he says, tipping the pizza box lid up.

I climb down from my stepladder and shut the box on his hand.

He looks up with a half-smile. “What? I can’t have pizza after laboring for a half hour over your lock?”

When he says it, I realize how petty I’m being, so I let my hand fall away. “Better have done a good job.”

He puts half a slice of pizza into his mouth and talks with his mouth full. “Check it out.” He uses his food to point toward the door.

I walk away with my chin up. It better be perfect or I’m going to insist he take it all apart. I’m actually looking forward to it. Maybe if I humiliate him, he’ll finally get the hint and stop coming around.

Unfortunately, the lock has been installed perfectly. It moves like it’s been greased with butter, and the new handle appears to be exactly level. Even after watching three how-to videos on my phone and reading the ridiculously complicated instructions, I was still very much in the dark about how to install it, but he just walked in and did it without a single request for help. I wanted him to be Mister Screwup so I could kick him out of here for good, but it turns out he’s Mister Fixit.
Dammit
. Why do all of my hopes fall to shit where he’s concerned?

“What’s next?” he asks from behind me.

I sigh and my shoulders sag as my chin rests on my chest. I feel totally and utterly defeated. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is working out in my favor. It seems stupid that I wished for this lock installation to fall flat when it’s my own home he’s helping repair, but I can’t change how I feel. It’s like the entire universe hates me. When I want something to go well, it goes bad. When I want something to go bad, it goes well. Every day is opposite day.

“Nothing,” I finally answer. “There’s nothing next.” Tears make my eyes sting.

Robinson steps closer. “Don’t say that. You have a list a mile long in there. Let me help lighten your load. I can build things, fix things…”

I can’t look at him, so I stare at the floor, my back to him and all his good intentions. “Rob… I just can’t. You can’t fix things. I can’t do this.” I’ve heard of heart-ache before, but never realized it’s such a literal thing. My chest is actually throbbing with pain. Every beat is like a knife stabbing me in between my ribs.

His hand on my shoulder pulls me around and then his finger on my chin lifts my eyes to his.

“You have to let me back in, Jana.”

I shake my head. “No. You’re out. You’re out for good. I wish you’d just accept that and move on.”

“But why?” His voice is full of anguish. “What did I do that’s so unforgivable? And don’t say that I took Cassie from you, because I didn’t.”

“I can’t believe you really think that.” I shake my head, so confused about how a man so smart can be so incredibly dense.

“You need to let me tell you what really happened.”

“I know what really happened. I was there. Believe me, I’ll never forget.”

“No, you weren’t there. You were in here.” He points to my head. “And in here.” He points to my heart.

I want to smack his finger away, but I don’t. I just listen, a ringing in my ears making it difficult to hear too well.

“The law says that the court must do what’s in the best interest of the child…”

I open my mouth to argue about how putting a child with a drug addict could never be in her best interests, but he holds up his hand to shush me.

“…Just let me finish.” He takes a deep breath and continues. “As I said, it’s the best interests of the child they look at. And almost without exception, unless the parent is truly incapacitated, the best interest of a child is to be with a birth parent who is willing and able to care for her.”

I open my mouth again, but he just keeps on talking right over me.

“Jeremy got his shit together. He was and is still going to AA meetings. With Sarah there to support him, he was turning his life around. It was only a matter of time before he hired someone
you don’t know
and got Cassie back. It would have been a stranger who didn’t care about you, and I couldn’t stomach the idea of that happening. I knew you were going to be crushed. I knew how much you loved her.”

“Don’t say it in the past tense, as if I don’t
still
love her like my own daughter,” I say, nearly choking on my tears.

“I didn’t mean it that way and you know it.” He takes my arms and shakes me a tiny bit. “Jana, I know you. I know you so well. I’ve been in your life for what seems like forever. You’re family to me. I’d never do anything to you with malice or negligence. You have to believe me. I had your best interests at heart.”

I pull myself out of his grip and take a step back. “How can you say that? You took my daughter from me.”

“No.” He frowns, taking a step toward me and holding my arms firmly. “She is
not
your daughter. She’s Jeremy’s daughter. You cared for her when he was lost, but that didn’t change the fact that he has the right to raise her.” His voice softens. “Just as you have the right to raise your own children one day.” He pulls me against him and talks over my head. I’m too weak to fight him as his words slice through me and cut me to the bone. “Imagine if you had a daughter one day and then something terrible happened to your health and you couldn’t care for her for a year. And your brother took her in. Wouldn’t you want her back after you were healthy again? Would you ever agree to let him keep her, as much as he loved her and took care of her when you couldn’t?”

He’s painting a picture I don’t want to see. I try to fight him, but he holds me tighter.

“Please, Jana. Please…”

“No!” I shout, finally succeeding in pushing him away. “I don’t want to hear anything else from you!” I point to the door, breathing like I just ran a mile. “Get out! Just get out!”

“You know I’m right!” he shouts back, his face dark red.

“Get out!” I screech, no longer sounding human.

He strides to the door, grabbing his toolbox from the ground. “You’re hurting everyone with your attitude,” he growls as he yanks the door open. His glare carries an anger I’ve never seen from him before. I think he’s finally starting to hate me back, and it should make me happy but it breaks my heart all over again.

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear anything else from you!” I feel like I’m being torn apart, as if Robinson’s pulling my skin from my bones. My head is on fire and a headache rages inside my skull. Sobs mix with my words and make them sound unhinged. “Get out! Get out! Get
out!
”

“I’m leaving. And I won’t be back.” He walks over the threshold and shuts the door behind him.

“Good!” I scream. “That’s what I want!”

I crumble to the floor when I realize that I’m lying through my teeth and crushing my own soul all over again.

Chapter Thirteen

I DON’T KNOW WHAT I would have done all week without all those Youtube videos to guide me through the process of repairing little things around the house, to help me understand what the heck people are talking about when they use words like cantilever, sistering, change order, and pitch, and to teach me about the use of feng shui in laying out the rooms and placement of windows. Now, after a week has passed, I really feel like I’m on the right track for getting this house remodeled in style. Even though my heart’s a mess, my life is looking up.

I’m glad it’s Saturday night, my big work date with Jake the plumber finally here. I plan to drink copious amounts of wine, and if the estimate looks good, I might even kiss him goodnight. A reward for a job well done.

He picks me up at my apartment on time, looking adorable in grey slacks and a black sweater. He pushes the sleeves up inside my warm living room and reveals the strong forearms that are clear evidence of the hard work he does all week.