Michael took one look at me when I walked through the door that night.
“My god, what’s wrong?”
I told him about the tile shortage. He sighed with relief. “I thought someone died.”
“Our floors are going to look like crap,” I almost sobbed.
He shot me his most reassuring smile. “They’ll look fine. No one will ever notice. And if they do it’ll just make the house more interesting. I’ve heard you say over and over again that perfect is boring.”
“I couldn’t possibly have said something so stupid.”
He rolled his eyes and headed to the kitchen. “How about a drink?”
“Maybe we could check some home improvement stores around here and see if we can find a match,” I hazarded.
He shook his head.
“It would cost a fortune to ship down.” Why, oh why did he always have to be so logical? “And anyway, how do you know you could match the color from memory?”
“I don’t,” I said, strolling toward the dining room buffet. “Luckily I brought a broken tile home with me the last time we were down.”
I pulled a piece of tile from a drawer and laid it on the kitchen counter.
He looked at me in amazement. “Why on earth did you do that?”
“I thought it might come in handy.”
“I already have a hobby. Obsessing over minor details.”
I stared at the shard of tile. “I’ve got it. We can look for a match the next time we’re passing through San Juan.”
He settled into his comfortable chair, eyeing me with good-natured tolerance. “Which is only three weeks away.”
Maybe it was the Grey Goose, but I felt better already.
Hello readers. I know you’re tuning in, but I haven’t heard from you guys in a while. Let me know what you’re thinking…good, bad or ugly. It’s lonely out here!