“What’s going on, baby?” I asked.
She yapped again.
I didn’t speak Bossy, though I was learning, so I did my best to translate and walked to the door of the powder room, Bossy on my heels.
I stopped in the door and stared at Deacon on his back on the floor, his head and shoulders wedged between the opened doors of the vanity, a wrench in his hand, a brand new, non-rust-stained, scalloped-edged, totally awesome sink where the old one used to be. A new, expensive-looking, beveled-edged mirror had already been switched out with the old, ugly, tawdry, gilt-edged one.
Suffice it to say, although I’d got rid of the ugly wallpaper and painted the room a pretty green, I hadn’t found the money to switch out the sink and mirror.
“What on earth?” I asked the room but it was aimed at Deacon.
What didn’t seem that long ago, I’d been having coffee with Milagros at my kitchen table.
Deacon, who was giving us space doing Deacon things in secret Deacon places (this didn’t happen much; when he was with me, he was with me in all the ways that could entail), walked one foot in the kitchen and stopped.
“Milagros,” he said, dipping his chin to her, and he looked at me. “Later, woman.”
Before I could ask, he was out the door.
Milagros had looked my way and raised her brows.
I’d looked at her and shrugged.
We’d had our gab while we finished our coffee and she went down to finish the cabins. I went down with her and got the sheets. I’d put sheets in earlier so I got caught up in that, as well as organizing the space and making note I needed to corral Deacon and get to a Costco to buy more detergent, fabric softener, and glass cleaner refill.
Now I was back.
And I had a new sink.
And mirror.
Bossy was doing her best to wedge herself in the bottom of the vanity to keep Deacon company as he kept working and didn’t answer my question.
“Deacon,” I called sharply.
“Sink was crap. Got you a new sink.”
“And the mirror?” I pushed.
“Arguably more crap,” he answered.
He was not wrong.
Still.
I drew in a breath and as I did, it hit me.
“So, in order to avoid an argument about who was paying for said sink…and mirror…you just didn’t bring it up at all and went about your merry way.”
“Yup,” he replied nonchalantly.
I clenched my teeth.
I unclenched them to snap, “Deacon—”
“Cassidy, do I use this sink?”
“Not the point,” I hissed.