The Holiday Exchange (Boyfriend in the Bargain)

7. Kayla

7

KAYLA

I pull up beside Trevor’s mailbox at seven fifty-five. As I get out of my car, I zip my jacket against the morning chill and survey his house. It’s a mid-century rancher that looks well-maintained but a bit dated with twisted black iron railing, a half-screened metal storm door, and mud-brown brick. In my mind’s eye, I picture the brick repainted white and the scraggily bushes in the front replaced with hydrangeas. It definitely has potential.

But I’m not here to play HGTV. I’m here to build sets, so I grab my bag and march to the front door to announce my arrival. Trevor answers my knock within seconds like he was waiting for me.

“Come in.” He steps back to usher me into the foyer. I can’t stop myself from peering around, taking in my surroundings with interest.

The inside of the house shows clear signs of renovation, but there’s still work to be done to make it completely modern. The living room and hall have been freshly painted a bright white and the wood floors look like they’ve recently been refinished the same dark-stained color as the exposed beams crossing the ceiling. What I can see of the kitchen, however, calls to mind a Better Homes and Gardens spread from the 70s. I’m pretty sure I spy some patterned green linoleum.

“It’s a fixer-upper,” Trevor says, almost apologetically. “I’m renovating and bringing it up to date a little at a time.”

“I think it’s great. Are you doing the work yourself?”

“Mostly. When I first bought it, I had a plumber and an electrician come check out all the pipes and wiring and do a few updates. I’ve done the rest.”

I’m intrigued. It sounds like his carpentry skills might be more advanced than I thought. “Cool. What have you already done so far?”

“Would you like a tour?”

“Yes! I love seeing inside other people’s houses. Not, like, in a weird way,” I hasten to clarify. “I promise not to open your drawers. I just like a little insider peek into people’s lives.”

“Hopefully you don’t decide I’m a caveman by the end of this tour.”

I stare at him. Did he just make a joke? I don’t think I’ve heard him be funny before. I smile to reassure him. “I highly doubt that, but I’ll be on the lookout for mud murals on the walls.”

“So…” He clears his throat and looks around for a place to start. “You can see the living room is almost done. I just need to work on the fireplace.”

“What are you going to do with it?” I have my own ideas about how to update the red brick behemoth in the far wall, but I’m interested in his response.

“I definitely need to refinish the wood mantle and I want to take the bronze doors off, make it open.”

I nod along. “And you could paint the inside black and the outside white.”

He rubs his chin and stares at the fireplace, considering. “ You have an eye for this,” he says finally. “I think that’s exactly what it needs.”

His praise warms me, but I brush it off. “I just know what I like. It sounds like you have similar preferences or else you wouldn’t have agreed with my suggestion so quickly.”

“True enough.” He crosses the living room without another word, disappearing down a hallway. Am I supposed to follow him? I hesitate for a second then go for it and find him waiting in the hall. Several doors open up on each side and he gestures for me to enter the first one.

“This is the first room I refinished.”

It must be the master suite. It’s spacious, with several large windows that let in the morning light. It’s simple but elegant with soft gray walls and minimal furnishings, just a bed and a matching dresser. The floor is the same dark wood as the hall and living room.

“Does the whole house have wood floors?”

“This room actually used to be carpeted. I installed wood in here and the guest rooms before I refinished the wood in the living room and then stained them all the same color to match as closely as possible.”

“It looks great,” I enthuse, impressed. “I never would have guessed that the floors were installed at different times.”

He seems uncomfortable with the compliment, his face flushing as he rubs the back of his neck. “The bathroom is through there.”

I flip on the light in the bathroom and nearly gasp. While the bedroom design is simple, the master bath is full of details. To my right, double sinks are set in a swirling grey and white marble countertop perched on white cabinets. The floor is grey subway tile that blends seamlessly into a wide shower on my left, the tiles continuing to the ceiling. Through the glass wall, I see two shower heads, along with a couple of cut-outs to set your toiletries in. Beyond the sinks, a half wall conceals what I assume is a toilet, and opposite of that is a sleek white tub.

“Wow,” I breathe. “This is gorgeous.”

“Thanks. I’d never done any tiling before so that took a while.”

“Well, it turned out great.”

We continue the tour and he shows me the two spare bedrooms, which are empty and still sport wood wall paneling, along with another bathroom and a laundry room that also have yet to be redone. Through the laundry room window, I can see a spacious backyard with what I think is a covered-up pool. When I ask about it, Trevor tells me that it’s in pretty bad shape but he hopes to fix it up to be ready to swim in next summer.

“This is next on my list,” he says when we enter the kitchen.

“No offense, but I think that’s a good call.” I blink as my eyes are assaulted by the avocado Formica countertops and stained, outdated white appliances.

Trevor chuckles. “That’s the reaction my mom had.”

I look around, stretching for a thought that’s been hovering just out of reach as I followed Trevor through the house. Something feels off, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“You don’t have any stuff,” I say suddenly as the realization erupts like fireworks in my brain.

“What?” He looks confused.

“I mean, it almost looks like nobody lives here. You don’t have any photos or art on the walls or shoes by the door. Where is your coffee pot and your microwave? I didn’t even see any clothes in your room.” Although now that I’m thinking hard, I do recall seeing a toothbrush and some mouthwash on the counter in the bathroom.

Trevor frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. “I guess I just don’t need much. Too much stuff makes me feel…overwhelmed. Also, I don’t know how to decorate. ”

“Huh.” This feels very foreign to me, very opposite to my own personality. My own room and the shared kitchen/living area of my apartment are filled with little touches that make it feel homey. I hate clutter as much as the next person, but this house feels…sparse.

I glance at Trevor’s face. His expression is guarded.

“Hey.” I turn to face him fully. “I’m sorry if I offended you. There’s nothing wrong with not having a lot of stuff. People make entire livings nowadays teaching minimalism and decluttering techniques, so it’s not just you.” I shrug. “I was just noticing.”

His arms uncross and he relaxes a bit. “No harm done.”

“If you ever did want to do some decorating, I’d be happy to help. Very minimal decorating,” I assure him. “Just a few little touches to make things feel welcoming. If you wanted.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the offer.” His smile lets me know we’re all good. “The only place left is the garage. Ready to see where we’ll be working?”

“Lead the way.”

A side door in the kitchen leads into his two-car garage. His truck is parked on one side, while the second space is open, the wall lined with toolboxes and what looks like stacks of spare lumber pieces.

“I thought we could start with the biggest project first.” Trevor drags a set of saw horses from the corner.

“The fireplace?”

“Right. I’ve already marked where we need to cut, so we can go ahead and get started. You can help hold the pieces while I use the saw, then once we have it put together, we’ll paint it.”

“Sounds good. You’re the boss here, so just tell me exactly what you need and I’ll do it, no questions asked.”

“No questions asked?” He quirks a brow. “You’d better be careful with blanket promises like that. ”

“I’m not worried,” I wave my hand, watching him lay a sheet of plywood over the horses.

“What if I ask you to go make me a sandwich?”

I laugh. “At least I know how to do that. Why, are you hungry?”

“Not yet.”

“I trust you not to take advantage of my willing obedience. Now, where do we start?”

Over the next hour, I hold while he cuts, until we have a pile of oddly shaped wood that I hope will turn into a fireplace. I’m not going to lie – I can’t see how the pieces of the puzzle are going to fit. But Trevor seems confident so I defer to him as promised.

“We’re making good progress.” He dusts off his hands and surveys the stack of pieces. “I think we can get it assembled before lunch and maybe have time to paint it after.”

We dive back in and I again hold pieces while he hammers and drills until, like Christmas magic, a convincing, life-sized fireplace appears.

“Wow! I can’t wait to see it with the paint on. I still hate taking up your whole Saturday, though.”

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t have any plans.”

“How about you let me make you lunch? I know I’m not the most knowledgeable construction helper, but I can cook.”

Trevor winces. “I don’t think that will work.”

“Why not? I promise I don’t mind. Unless you’d rather I go get lunch somewhere and give you some time to yourself.” I hope he’s not already getting tired of me. I tried to keep the chatter to a minimum while we were working but maybe he’s ready for a few minutes of quiet.

Trevor is shaking his head. “No, I just mean I don’t think there’s anything here to cook. I’ve been putting off getting groceries. ”

“Oh, I see. Well, it can’t be that bad. I bet I can still find something to make, even if it’s not fancy.”

“I really don’t think so.”

For some reason, this feels like a personal challenge. Surely I can find enough food for a casual lunch for two. I march inside to investigate, Trevor on my heels.

“What are you doing?” he asks as I open the fridge. He’s right, it’s pretty empty.

“I’m taking inventory. I’ll make you lunch today if it’s the last thing I do. And you’re going to like it.” I punctuate my guarantee with a finger jabbed in his direction. I continue searching through his cabinets, feeling more and more unsure of what I just got myself into.

I stand in the middle of the kitchen, chin in my hand, thinking. I’ve almost forgotten about Trevor leaning against the doorframe watching me.

“Seriously, Kayla, why don’t we just order a pizza?”

“No, I can do this.” I’m trying to convince myself as much as him. The only place I haven’t looked yet is the freezer, and I throw my fists up in victory when I spot a pack of freezer-burned chicken and some mixed vegetables. “Yes! Now we’re in business.”

“What are you going to do with that?” Trevor looks dubious.

“Wait and see.”