Page 43 of Silver Linings
“Did the hot maintenance man finally nail you to the wall ?” He leaned in, whispering loudly, before she swatted him on the arm, blushing furiously, sneaking a shy glance over at me to see if I had heard. I pretended I didn’t.
“I’ve got a list of things I need to get for the Park Ave project. What are we finding for you, Sil?
“My list will have to wait until later.” She tells him about the incident at the store and how it means everything unnecessary will have to wait.
He asks about the second floor, knowing that was what she was most excited for, and tries to soothe her when he sees the disappointment written on Silver’s face.
“It’s okay. These things happen.” She waves him off with a smile. “Where should we go first?”
The Brooklyn Flea is a maze of tents and tables hocking anything from jewelry to vintage clothes to home décor of all kinds.
We weave our way under the Brooklyn Bridge, where most of the stalls reside, when Kena pulls me into one with him, leaving Silver in a different section close by, looking at frames.
“I’ve been here for an hour, scoping out the wares ahead of time, and I saw this dining room hutch that’s perfect for my client.” He’s speaking animatedly, gesticulating wildly with his hands. “But the seller isn’t budging on the price. He’s this real hard ass man’s man, you know?”
“And?”
He stops abruptly, putting a hand on my chest before quickly removing it with a soft ‘oh my’, shaking his head out of a daze. “Keep up, brother wife. This is important.”
“You didn’t explain anything?”
“Context clues! I need you, a big burly man who looks like he knows how to hold a hammer, to come help me get this guy down on a price.”
“Okay, how do you want me to do that?”
“You’ll have to freestyle. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“You’re always throwing me into uncomfortable situations where I’m put on the spot,” I huff.
“Don’t act like singing ‘ What Dreams Are Made Of’ in front of a crowd wasn’t a transformative experience for you. I was there.” He grabs my arm, pulling me in the direction he wants me to go. “Silver! I’m stealing your boyfriend for a minute.”
Pink creeps into her cheeks at the use of the term ‘boyfriend’, but she doesn’t correct him. “Okay! But be gentle with him. He’s delicate.”
“We both know that’s not true.” I shoot her a suggestive wink, further deepening her blush.
Kena gasps next to me, clutching his pearls. Literally—he’s wearing a pearl necklace.
We head about two hundred feet in the opposite direction of where we left Silver, and each step away from her has me aching to run back, but I also want to get on Kena’s good side since he’s her best friend.
Walking up to the antiques vendor, I see what Kena was talking about. This guy looks more likely to be a butcher for the mafia than he does a furniture salesman.
“I already told you my price is final.” His New York accent is thick, and his ire is directed fully onto my friend.
“I understand, Vinny. I just brought my contractor over to take a look. I want to make sure it’ll fit in the space I’ll use it for.”
Kena nudges me, and I start walking around the mahogany cabinet with filigree embossing.
It was a nice piece of furniture, tall and sturdy, but nothing crazy.
I make a big show of opening the doors, tapping around the inside, bending down and checking the fluted styling on the legs.
Then I see the price, and I realize our friend Vinny here is a scam artist.
I stand in front of Kena. “He’s charging four grand for that?”
“I know, it’s insane. I’m trying to get him down to three.” Kena shoots daggers at Vinny over my shoulder.
“I could make that for you.”
His head whips in my direction. “Come again?”
“I mean, this is kind of what I do. My family owns a furniture design business back in Seattle. I grew up doing this.” I don’t need to go into the specifics of the family drama behind it all, but I would be damned if he got taken advantage of like this.
“How much would that cost you?” Oh, he’s serious. Part of me thought he wouldn’t take me up on it, and I didn’t want to hope for more than what I’ve already been given recently, afraid to jinx my good luck.
“Materials would probably cost a few hundred. With labor, we could round it out to a grand?”
“Hey!” Vinny yells, finally catching on to what we’re discussing.
“I’ll give you two grand.” He sticks out his hand to shake on it.
I shake my head. “That’s too much.”
“Let’s make it two and a half. Know your worth.”
And goddamn, if there isn’t something inspirational about that. Something that makes my chest flutter uneasily. It couldn’t really be that simple could it?
“I’ll get you some sketches by the end of next week?” I slip my hand into his and shake.
“That’s perfect.”
We turn and head back to where we left Silver, Vinny shouting a trail of expletives as he chases after us.
We weave through stall after stall until I see her, head thrown back in laughter at something the person next to her is saying as they rifle through boxes of tchotchkes.
I stop and stare, struck stupid by how beautiful she is like this, carefree, with sunshine pouring down over her skin, making her glow.
Kena clears his throat, and when I turn, he’s looking at me, looking at his best friend with a knowing smile.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
I want to tell him I love her, that I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she feels that love and security every day. But I don’t want to tell him before I tell her. “To put it mildly, yes, she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”
His grin stretches wider.
She looks over then, having spotted us, and jogs over. But instead of directing her attention to Kena like I think she will, she comes to me, face alight with happiness, and rests her free hand on my stomach.
“You have to come see this.” She starts to drag me towards the table she was standing at. “They have mini figurines of celebrities, and look!” She reaches down and grabs a miniature Paul Hollywood, searing demonic blue stare and all. “I’m gonna get him for the bedside table.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “For mine or yours?”
“We can work out a joint custody agreement.”
I can’t help myself—she’s just so fucking adorable, I’ll die if I don’t kiss her.
Leaning down, I brush my lips against hers lightly, testing how she feels about public displays of affection.
But she leans into me, deepening the kiss in a way that signals I need to pull back now, or this is about to get very inappropriate for a flea market.
She pouts as I retreat but reaches her hand out to wipe her lip balm off my mouth with the pad of her thumb.
The move is so familiar and intimate at the same time.
I plant a kiss on her forehead, resting my hand on her back as I pull away and look at the employee working the stall. “We’ll take one Hollywood.”