Chapter 6
513words
I checked my phone and nearly choked at the repair quotes.
Then I looked at James sitting cross-legged on our threadbare carpet.
No contest—James it was.
Why pay for a pro when I had free labor right here?
So I steadied the wobbly ladder while chatting up at him as he worked.
"James, why do you think..."
I gripped the ladder, rambling to pass the time.
"Rich people act so damn superior?"
His deft fingers pried open the heat lamp cover, methodically checking each component.
I suddenly remembered how useless he'd been with repairs when we first got together.
Once, our apartment door lock jammed, and I was locked out in the hallway.
Panicking, I called a locksmith who charged me a fortune to spray some WD-40.
That hundred-dollar lesson stung for weeks.
I ate instant noodles for a month to make up for it.
James never commented, but after that, he started watching YouTube repair videos.
He snapped his fingers to get my attention, then pointed at the switch.
Click.
The heat lamp blazed to life.
Blessed warmth flooded the bathroom again.
He flashed a satisfied smile and hopped down.
He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and gulped it down.
His Adam's apple bobbed hypnotically.
I found myself swallowing hard as I watched him.
"Don't overthink it. You should get some sleep."
He tousled my hair affectionately.
"Sure... Hey, James, when am I going to meet your parents?"
His hand froze mid-sip, his expression suddenly guarded.
I know it's a bit forward for me to bring this up.
But after five years, I needed to know where this was heading.
I know we're both just ordinary working stiffs, but that shouldn't matter.
I just want to meet his family, and have him meet mine.
If all goes well, maybe we could even get married this year.
Have a real home of our own, not this cramped rental.
"Sophie, about that..."
He drummed his fingers on the table—his classic tell.
I've learned this means his brain is working overtime.
He met my eyes briefly before looking away.
"I need to make some arrangements first."
Of course he does. Arrangements. Right.
Truth is, I have complete faith in James. Back in college, he was the guy everyone called a genius.
Any competition with James Carter's name on the roster might as well have had his name engraved on the first-place trophy in advance.
Even Professor Harrison—the human equivalent of a stone-faced sphinx—said James was destined for greatness.
So even though he's just pushing papers now, plenty of geniuses were late bloomers.
I believe in him completely.
—
So the whole meet-the-parents thing got shelved for now.
I burrowed under the covers, mentally tallying our expenses against our dwindling bank balance.
On the sofa lay James's tie, the edges frayed and pilling from years of wear.
I'd given him that tie for his birthday two years ago, and he'd worn it religiously ever since.
I made a mental note to buy him a new one before New Year's.
