Hilariously Ever After

by Penny Reid

  Then again, Ellie spoke so he didn’t have to.

  “Do you want to see the red, too?”

  He nodded again, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

  “Come here.” I capped the water bottle, set it down, and shifted over for him to see. “There’s not a lot, because I just started doing the edges.”

  He bent forward at the waist, looking at the bottom corner and where I’d started to edge the corner of the wall. “Why are you doing that?”

  “Just at the edges?”

  More nodding.

  “Well, it’s quite tricky. It’s to stop me getting a lot of paint on the other wall or the ceiling or baseboards with the roller. Look—watch.” I removed excess paint from the brush and gently painted a little, getting the bristles in at the corner. “Sometimes I use tape to help me, but this blue might still be a little wet.”

  “Is that the tape?” He pointed at the taped baseboards.

  “It is. I don’t like to take it off until the paint is dry. I think the other wall might be done. Want to see?”

  Nodding again. “How does it work?”

  I dropped the brush and shuffled across the room on my knees. “It helps me get the lines right. I don’t have to be as careful, because if I get paint on the tape, it doesn’t matter.” I pinched the edge of the tape and slowly pulled it. “See?”

  He basically leaned right on top of me and watched as I gently peeled the tape from the baseboard. He moved with me as I crawled across the floor.

  “You see? It’s a perfect, straight line.” Near enough.

  “Wow,” he breathed, awe filling his tone with lightness. “That’s ‘mazin’.”

  “It is. My daddy taught me that trick.”

  Eli turned to me, eyes wide with delight, cheeks flushed with excitement. “Do you think my daddy knows the tape twick?”

  “Maybe. I think a lot of daddies know it.”

  “Wow,” he repeated. “Is the udder one ready?”

  “The tape on the other wall?”

  He nodded.

  “Not quite. Did you want to help peel it off?”

  Another nod. How did he not have a headache?

  “How about I come and get you when I think it’s ready?” I offered. “It’ll be before bedtime tonight.”

  I’d have to re-tape these boards tomorrow, but oh well.

  Eli gazed out at all the boards. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Deal?” He stuck out his tiny hand.

  I took it and shook. “Deal.”

  “Can I watch you paint?”

  I hesitated. I couldn’t say no, could I? I’d let Ellie. “Sure,” I said. “As long as you don’t touch anything.”

  Nodding his agreement, he dropped to sit exactly where he was in the middle of the room. He crossed his legs and put his hands in his lap, staring at me expectantly.

  My lips twitched at his interest in my work.

  I remembered when I was a couple years older than him, sitting like that, and watching my dad do exactly what I was doing right now.

  I was sis. My mom had died nine months before. It’d been the first week of summer and Dad couldn’t get a sitter. I’d been brought to work under the rules I wouldn’t touch anything, I wouldn’t go anywhere without him, and if I was really bored, I could pass him tools.

  That was the day I grew a real interest in everything he did. The day I was first amazed that two hands could change a house so much with nothing more than love and dedication.

  I glanced back at Eli and picked up my brush with a smile. He sat silently as I painted. I didn’t even hear him cough—not even a creak of the floorboards. If I didn’t turn and check on him every now and then, I wouldn’t have guessed he was there—or moving to get a better view of what I was doing.

  It was peaceful. And fun, almost.

  Until Tornado Ellie blew in.

  “Whatcha doooooooooing?” she sang, hovering in the doorway.

  Eli sighed.

  “Painting,” I replied.

  “Can I watch?”

  “No,” Eli said. “You watched your woom.”

  “I wanna watch yours, too.”

  “No.”

  “Kawi!”

  I shrugged, rolling the paint on. “Sorry, Ellie. It’s up to Eli. I think he’s having fun watching me.”

  “I had fun watching you, too!”

  “You aweady watched,” Eli said quietly. “I wanna watch now.”

  Ellie stomped her foot on the floor.

  “Ellie!” Brantley shouted from downstairs. “You better not be upstairs!”

  “I’m not,” she shouted back.

  “Go away, Ewwie,” Eli said.

  I shook my head as she stomped her head again. I was focused on a patch of wall by the ceiling and, in my attempt not to get red on the white ceiling, I didn’t know until it was too late.

  “Nooo! Ewwie! Nooooo!” Eli shrieked, stomping and thumping as he got up.

  I turned.

  And, fuck.

  “Ellie!” I didn’t mean to shout, I really didn’t. But seeing her deliberately and spitefully plant her red-paint-covered hands all over the blue wall because Eli said no made me.

  Eli cried as he pulled her away from the wall and pushed her over. They both went down, kicking into the tray of blue paint.

  It happened in slow motion.

  They hit the ground.

  The tray flicked up and over.

  The paint splattered over the floor and the wall I intended to be red.

  I stood there, covered in pink and blue and red paint, on the opposite side of the room, roller in hand, dripping paint on the floor, and stared at the twins.

  They were still struggling. Ellie was screaming. Eli was shouting. And they were both covered in paint.

  “What the—” Brantley stopped in the doorway, cheeks red. Slowly, he swung his gaze from the fighting twins to me. “What the hell happened?”

  “Are you sure you want that answer?” I replied.

  He took a deep breath. Picking his way between the paint splatters, he separated the twins. Holding them both by the arm, one in his left hand and the other in his right, he knelt down and stared at them both.

  Ellie’s face was bright red from screaming. Eli was still crying, and as a number of emotions danced over Brantley’s expression, I could see he was torn on how to react.

  “I just wanted to watch Kawi paint,” Eli sobbed, hiccupping halfway through the sentence.

  “What happened?” Brantley demanded, turning to Ellie.

  My eyes widened a bit.

  Boy, that was hard.

  Even I wanted to tell him what happened and he wasn’t talking to me.

  “Eli hit me first!”

  “No, he didn’t,” I interjected. I put the roller in my tray, folded my arms over my chest, and raised an eyebrow at her. “Did he, Ellie?”

  She sniffed. “He pushed me over.”

  “And why did he push you over?” Brantley asked. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the red handprints on the wall now, would it? The wall Kali has spent all day painting.”

  “It was Eli!”

  Brantley turned over her hands. “Really,” he said flatly.

  Ellie shrunk back.

  “You have ten seconds to tell me the truth before I go and put blue handprints on your walls and see how you like it, young lady.” He dropped her arm and pulled Eli into his side. He’d almost stopped crying now, but he looked like he’d gotten in a fight with a Smurf.

  Ellie glanced across the room at me.

  I didn’t move or change my expression. She had to know I’d tell the truth even if she didn’t.

  “I wanted to watch Kawi paint, too,” she finally started. “But Ewi wouldn’t wet me. So, I painted, too. But then he pushed me over and frew paint on me.”

  “Did not!”

  “Let me get this straight,” a now-paint-covered Brantley said. “You disobeyed me in coming upstairs, you lied to me, and you deliberately r
uined your brother’s wall because you didn’t get your own way, although you already spent the morning upstairs with Kali while he helped me in the kitchen.”

  Ellie looked, for a second, as if she was going to deny it. Instead, her bottom lip trembled, she dropped her chin, and she nodded.

  Brantley put a finger under her chin and met her eyes. “Don’t fake cry. It’s not going to work this time, Eleanor. What you did was very cruel. I suggest you go and sit in the corner of the bathroom and think about what you’ve done while I put Eli under the shower. You can have one when he’s clean.” He pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

  She sniffed, but she went, trudging across the hall to the bathroom.

  Eli tugged on Brantley’s shirt. “Daddy, are you mad I pushed her over?”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m not angry about it, Eli, but I’m not happy. You shouldn’t do it again. I know she upset you, but you could have really hurt her, okay? Plus, now there’s paint everywhere. Maybe next time you shout for me instead of hurting her, okay?”

  He hesitated for a moment before nodding his head. “Can I had a shower now?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh.” He stopped and looked at me. “Kawi, are you mad at the walls?”

  Much like Brantley had done, I inhaled deeply, and looked at the walls. I was frustrated, annoyed, feeling helpless, but not angry. The extra few hours I’d now need to cover it up, not to mention repaint the baseboards, were totting up in my head, but I was more resigned to it than anything.

  “We need to get you in the shower, buddy.” Brantley stood and, taking hold of Eli’s shoulders, directed him toward the bathroom.

  “I sowwy, Kawi,” I heard Eli say before Brantley shut the bedroom door behind him.

  I let go of a long, shaky breath, slumping down as I was able to fully take in the sight of the mess that had been created by Ellie’s tantrum.

  Then, I turned, and forgetting—or maybe just not caring—that the red paint was still wet, pressed my forehead against the wall.

  Ground rules.

  No. More. Kids. Near. Paint.

  Chapter 16

  Five p.m. rolled around before I knew it. I was pretty sure I still had paint on my head. I sure as hell had it just about everywhere else. I was all dry and crusty and gross.

  I’d barely been able to fix the mess caused by the kids when they fought. I’d managed to wipe the surplus paint off, but other than that… Let’s just say I had a couple more coats of white paint to do tomorrow.

  I finished cleaning the rollers and trays off in the bathtub. The mix of blue and red as it swirled through the water before draining away was almost headache-inducing. It was much brighter wet, and mixed with water… Ugh.

  I turned and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like a complete mess. Red paint in my hair and over my forehead. There were streaks of blue and pink across my neck and chest. The same happened when I looked down. I was a walking art exhibition.

  One day, I would be able to paint a wall and not cover myself in it.

  It was amazing. I could install a kitchen without getting a splinter, but painting a wall without getting covered in paint?

  Not a chance in hell.

  I glanced around for a cloth to wipe my face with. I didn’t see one, so I switched on the tap and did the best I could with my fingers. It wasn’t great, but I managed to get the majority of it off, and a scrub with a towel did the rest. There wasn’t much I could do about my hair.

  I gripped the edge of the sink and took a deep breath. I was exhausted. I could feel it as it snaked its way through the body. The last few hours of today had been hell, and Ellie had essentially wiped out everything I’d done in Eli’s room.

  For that, I wanted to do Eli’s room first. To make her wait. But that was spiteful, too, and it didn’t make me, as a twenty-six-year-old adult any better than her at four-years-old.

  I huffed and straightened up, then grabbed my stuff from the tub. Shaking off the excess water, I put one tray inside the other, then stacked the rollers and the brushes inside to pick up easily.

  And walked right into Brantley.

  Everything I’d just picked up clattered to the floor.

  “Shit,” I whispered.

  “I got it.” He got on his knees and picked it all up as I ran my hand over my face. Standing, he flicked her eyes over me. “You look exhausted.”

  “Damn. I should have left the paint on my face if it’s that obvious.”

  He smirked. “Should I pretend that the paint on the rest of you hides it?”

  “Could you? Thanks.”

  “In Eli’s room?” He lifted the tray slightly.

  “Oh, er, yeah. Thanks.” I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something—”

  He held his hands up. “Don’t worry. They won’t bug you anymore, I promise. I called Summer. They’re going to her every day until the walls and floors are done so you can work in peace. At the very least.”

  I opened and closed my mouth like a fish.

  “I’m sorry.” He met my eyes. “They never should have been with you in the first place. I was working with Ellie watching a movie, then the next thing I knew, she was upstairs. I was on my way up when…”

  “When the gates of Hell opened up and swallowed my afternoon whole?”

  “When the gates of Hell opened up and swallowed your afternoon whole.”

  I grinned. “It happened. There’s no point in dwelling on it right now. I can’t change it, but I can fix it.”

  “You’re very optimistic about this.”

  “Hey—fixing things is what I do. If I got annoyed every time something went wrong, I’d never get my job done.”

  He folded his arms across his chest, smiling. “You really are a regular little Miss Fix-It, aren’t you?”

  I mock-curtseyed. “That’s what you’re paying me for.”

  He laughed. “True. Thank you for, well, your bright outlook on the bullshit my children brought to your day.”

  “You’re welcome.” I skirted around him and slowly made my way down the stairs. “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow.”

  “Kali?”

  My name on his lips sent a tingle down my spine.

  I stopped, gripping the banister.

  “I, er… I made a bit too much pasta tonight. Would you…wanna stay and help me eat it? The kids are ready for bed, and it just needs reheating…”

  Dinner? Again?

  Did we not establish last night that was not a good idea?

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said slowly. “I mean…”

  Brantley’s lipped thinned, his eyes flashing with something I couldn’t recognize. “Right. Forgive me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I raised my hand in an awkward wave. Willpower made me walk, not run, down the stairs, but the second my feet hit the hallway, I was off. I left the house before either of the kids saw me or I changed my mind.

  I pulled my keys from my ass pocket and got into my truck. My phone was in the glovebox, and I retrieved it, sticking my keys into the ignition at the same time. Then, I pulled up my messages and texted Jayda.

  Me: He just asked me to stay for dinner

  Jayda: Call me right now

  I sighed and, still sitting in his driveway, did just that.

  “He asked you to stay for dinner?” she rambled the second I answered my phone. “Why are you messaging me and not eating?”

  “Because I said it wasn’t a good idea.”

  “Of course, it’s a terrible idea! But, first, free food. Second, he’s hot.”

  “You think the fact he’s hot and giving me food negates the fact it’s a bad idea?”

  Silence. “Yeah, pretty much. Is it home-cooked food?”

  “Does that make a difference?”

  “It’s home-cooked.” She sighed heavily, the line crackling at her exhale. “Damn it, Kali. Just have dinner with the guy. What harm will it do?”
r />   “What good will it do?” My voice raised a few decibels.

  “With any luck, it’ll take you a little closer to getting laid. You’re basically a virgin.”

  “I’m done with this conversation.”

  “Wait! Maybe he needs a friend!” She quickly spat out. “Have you thought about that? Does he know anyone else in town? He spends all his time with pint-sized, puny humans. You’re, like, a unicorn.”

  I paused. She had a point. And if Jayda had a point, we were all doomed. “You think that’s it? He needs a friend?”

  “I think you should see if that’s what it is.”

  “What if he kisses me again?”

  “Kiss him back and hope you get laid.”

  “Bye now.” I hung up before she could continue on any further down that track. But, damn. She’d planted the seed of an idea in my mind, and now I couldn’t shake it.

  As far as I knew, he didn’t know anyone in town. Certainly not anyone on anything more than an acquaintance level. We were practically friends, I guess. If you considered we knew stuff about each other and talked every day…

  And kissed once.

  Sadness.

  That had been what passed through his eyes when I’d said no.

  A flicker. The barest hint of sadness, and loneliness, too.

  I turned my phone over and tapped his name in the contacts.

  Me: Just how much is ‘a bit extra pasta?’

  Brantley: Are you texting me from the driveway?

  Me: …yes. Is this not normal?

  I stared at my phone, waiting for the response. When I didn’t get one, I hopped out of the truck to go knock.

  The front door opened as my feet hit the floor. He walked out and to my truck, eyebrow quirked in amusement.

  I blushed, shutting the door and leaning against it. “Not normal, huh?”

  His lips twitched, and he stood next to me, elbow on the wing mirror. “Definitely not normal. Why are you asking?”

  “A ‘bit extra pasta’ is relative. You either did enough for one person or enough to feed another family. I didn’t consider that when I said no.”

  “Enough to take it to the town hall in an hour and feed everyone at Bingo,” he admitted. “And, you didn’t say no. You said it was a bad idea.” His eyes met mine. “And I’m hard-pressed to disagree with you, which is why I don’t understand why you’re still here.”