Tommy Sallow is onto better and brighter things. After working a small hometown beat in upstate New York, he's finally in sunny California. As expected, it's the same shit in a different town. Except, you know, now he's near the ocean and miserable...
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The trunk slams shut with a loud thud and I head inside with the last armful, effectively completing the three, I repeat three, trips it took to get all of Amber and Mia's stuff into their new house today.
That's it. A few boxes, a couple wardrobe bags full of clothing, one custom made toy chest, and the results of a last minute Target run to pick up a few basics. Furniture will be delivered in a little bit, which my back is thankful for, so basically all I have to do is bring boxes in.
Well, that and I get to spend time with something pretty, watching her while she unpacks and occasionally orders me around. So far, I put a lamp together and pulled out the old toolbox to mount the TV that her dad dropped off last night. I'm strangely eager for my next task, never been happier to take orders.
Shit, I'm a fucking whipped cream goner for this woman and I don't even care.
"Got another one for ya," I tell Amber, setting the heavy cardboard box down on the island. "I don't know what's inside but it sounds and feels a hell of a lot like dishes."
She's perched on the counter, kneeling up with her ass at perfect eye level and gloriously clad in yoga pants as she puts something in one of the upper cabinets above the fridge. Couldn't tell you what she's putting away. Don't really care. I'm just enjoying the view, kicking myself for speaking up so soon and letting my presence be known.
"Dishes? There shouldn't be any dishes coming here from my parents' house. I got new ones," she informs me as she begins a spin move and hops down from the counter.
I shrug, unfolding my pocket knife and slicing the packing tape across the top.
"Wait," she blurts out. "That's not supposed to be here." But it's too late, the box is already open and her face falls slightly when she joins me at the counter. A heavy sigh leaves her mouth as she dips her hand into the box and picks up a newspaper wrapped item from inside. She holds it for a moment, frozen as she examines the object in front of her. "This is my mom's old set," she says, slowly peeling back the paper to reveal a ceramic plate with a design I've seen before.
Years ago, busted into pieces in a trash can on Fairview Street. Fuck.
Amber clears her throat. "It was gifted to me as a sixteen piece set in pristine condition on my wedding day..." She pauses for just a second before wrapping the plate back up, shoving it into the box. Her next words pour out frantic and hurried, "There's only eleven pieces left and half of them are chipped because he just loved to break the fucking dishes." She closes the box and gives it a quick shove. "I don't want these here."
Say no more. "I'll take care of it." I grab the box and carry it straight outside, putting it in my own car so she won't have to worry about bringing it back to Ed and Amelia's herself.
When I get back inside, she's still standing in the same place she was before, her face buried in her hands as she leans over the countertop. My instincts carry me right to her, settling in behind her as my arms circle her waist.
