I skip toward the kitchenette and work on wrapping dishes in newspaper, humming a quiet tune under my breath, when I spot Zane checking his phone.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Contractor, calling about Magdalena’s,” he says. A couple months ago, Magda’s old house finally hit the market, and he made an all-cash offer that day. Little by little, he’s been hiring contractors to fix it up. It’s been hard to give it the attention it needs when we’re in the throes of football season, but come spring, that place is going to be fully restored and the most beautiful house on its block. “Just letting me know the drywall guys will be there Monday.”
“Perfect.” I beam. “Everything’s running on schedule.”
Zane isn’t sure what he’s going to do with the house when it’s done. He might rent it out or he may donate it to charity. He’d been tossing around the idea of starting a football club for underprivileged youth, a way to sort of “pay it forward,” and they could use the house as headquarters. I told him it was genius, and I offered to do whatever it took to get it off the ground.
He seals up the box on the floor, standing up and stacking it on top of two others by the door.
“Just about finished,” I call out.
“I’m going to start loading up.” He lifts two boxes, making them look light as feathers in his broad arms, and I get the door for him. “Sooner we get going, the sooner our happily ever after can finally begin.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, de la Cruz.” I let out a happy sigh. “It began the day you showed up at my door.”
THE END