Close to You - Kristen Proby Page 0,59
spoil her some. Maybe buy her some of the fancy shoes she likes to wear, and just take care of her when she doesn’t feel good, you know?”
“I agree.”
“I didn’t want to move to Seattle with my folks, and Aunt Cami didn’t even blink when I asked her if she’d help me out sometimes, like if I needed a place to crash or a ride to school or something. She’s always been a good friend to me. She’s like a big sister.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat with a chuckle. “It’s stupid to get all emotional, but I love her, and I just wanted to make sure that you’re not just dicking with her, you know?”
“I’m not just dicking with her. And it’s not dumb to get emotional when you’re talking about someone you love.”
Steven nods. “Are you going to make her move away?”
“I don’t think anyone makes Cami do anything,” I reply with a laugh. “She’s much too headstrong for that.”
“You know what I mean. If you get married and stuff, and you want to move away, are you going to take her with you?”
I frown and shake my head. “Her business is here. I’m pretty sure that Portland is going to be our home for quite some time.”
“Good.”
“Do you have more questions, or can we get to work and finish this closet before she gets back tomorrow night?”
He laughs. “I’m done with the third degree. Oh, but don’t tell her anything about the Navy stuff. She won’t take it well, and I want to be the one to tell her.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“JESUS, THIS IS incredible,” Riley says the next day as she wanders into the closet and turns a circle, her eyes wide in awe. “Seriously, guys, this is fantastic. I should marry you both, right now, just for this closet.”
“I’m too young for you,” Steven says, his face bright pink. “But yeah, she’s gonna love it.”
“And I’m taken,” I reply happily. “So, we did good?”
“You did great. This is more than a closet, it’s a dressing room! I love that you brought her vanity in here with her makeup. There is so much hanging space in here.” She turns to examine the shelves. “And she’ll have space for new shoes and bags too.”
“Yeah, because she needs those,” Steven says, rolling his eyes.
“If having too many shoes is wrong, I don’t wanna be right,” Riley says, then turns to me. “Okay, what can I do?”
“Help us fill it up. I don’t know how she’d want her clothes and other things organized, but you will.”
“I know exactly what to do.” She marches out of the room and returns a few minutes later with her arms full of clothes. “We need to bring her dressers in here too.”
“There’s not enough wall space in here,” I reply, but she shakes her head.
“We’re going to put them in the middle of the room, back-to-back, and she can use the top for jewelry and her hair stuff. Trust me.”
Steven and I eye each other dubiously, but we wrestle the matching six-drawer dressers into the room, set them back-to-back, and I grin. She’s right. They’re the perfect height for her to use them, and they leave plenty of space for her to walk around them.
“I’ll be right back,” Steven says, and runs out of the room as Riley passes me a stack of shoe boxes.
“You can start unboxing those and placing them on the shelves, and I’ll come behind you and organize them based on color and style.”
“This is really involved,” I reply.
“You have no idea,” Riley says, nodding. “But it’ll be so worth it. It’ll get you laid for days.”
“Gross,” Steven says as he comes back in the room carrying an ottoman from her office. “She doesn’t use this, and it’ll look great next to the dressers. She can use it to sit on to put shoes on and stuff.”
“Brilliant!” Riley says, clapping her hands. “That chandelier is a great touch.”
“I thought it made the space feel more feminine,” I reply, happy that we’ve done a good job.
“This is Girl Central,” Steven says. “I’m gonna have to go play football or something, just to get the girl germs off of me.”
“What are you, nine?” I ask, and throw a sparkly shoe at him, hitting him in the shoulder when he dodges.
“No, I’m out of here,” he says, and grins. “Have fun touching all the girl stuff, man, but this is above my pay grade.” And with that, he escapes.
“Punk,”