Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13) Read online

  Still, we'd been having fun, and there was a chance I could change his mind, so I said, "Why wouldn't you be comfortable with someone with more experience? What difference does it make how many men a woman's slept with?"

  He flinched a little and I realized he didn't like the blunter terminology. "I just think it's far better for women to have a lower number, or even to be virgins. There's something... unpleasant about knowing a woman's had a variety of partners."

  I certainly felt unpleasant. Actually, I felt filthy. I'd been with ninety-two guys and I knew he'd be disgusted beyond measure if I told him. I wasn't disgusted myself, usually, but now I was and I didn't like it.

  He gave my hand a squeeze. "It's okay if it's a little higher than three. I could tolerate four or five, maybe even-- but I can't imagine yours is all that high. Not because you're not attractive, because you certainly are, but because I can tell you're a good person."

  So I was either a good person with almost no experience or the slut of Toronto. I couldn't tell him I was either of those things: I wouldn't lie about my background because I didn't regret it but I also knew I wouldn't like the way he'd respond to the truth. I cleared my throat and gave him the best sweet smile I could manage given all the bitterness his words had raised in me. "Ah, but a lady never kisses and tells."

  "Seven?"

  It was obvious that even that number seemed ridiculously high to him, and I felt a wave of fatigue flood me. Why was it always the games? I was so tired of it. I could lie to Calvin, but I'd always know we had a relationship that started in deceit. I didn't want that, but up until now I'd liked him and I didn't want to lose him either. "Calvin, look. It's higher. But I honestly don't think it should matter. I think..."

  I trailed off because the disgust in his eyes had silenced me, which gave him the opportunity to say, "I didn't think you were that type of woman."

  I knew now I'd lost him for sure, and his tone made me angry enough that I didn't care any more. "What type is that, exactly?"

  He didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Ten?"

  I looked around the packed restaurant, my anger rising at the grimace on his face at the thought of such a revolting number. "Ten? You know what? You couldn't fit them all in ten restaurants like this one. Maybe even twenty restaurants. Is that what you want to hear?"

  Then I dropped enough money from my wallet on the table to more than cover my bill, since I couldn't stand the thought of owing anything to him, and walked out with my head high and my stomach churning.

  *****

  I stopped at Jack's to collect myself a sandwich to make up for the steak I hadn't eaten and a slice of cheesecake that would hopefully smother the sick feeling in my stomach, then went home and reluctantly took Paddington for a walk. He cavorted all over the sidewalk, happy to be outside and just plain happy to be alive, and I tried to let watching him lighten my mood but it didn't work.

  When we went home, I hung up his leash and collar but their weight sent the hook I'd installed in the closet for them tumbling to the floor. The screws had been loose for a few weeks and the hook had been wobbling around but I'd kept pushing it back against the wall and hoping for the best. I'd gotten the worst today, though, and one look told me that the screw holes were now far too big to keep the screws in place.

  I left the whole mess where it lay and hung up my coat, but the closet's doorknob came off in my hand as I shut it.

  My house was falling apart.

  My life was falling apart.

  I took the sandwich and cheesecake to the couch and tried to make myself stop being so dramatic. One guy thought I was too slutty for him. That didn't mean my life was falling apart. That meant he was unreasonable. He'd only have been happy if I'd had a third as many partners as he'd had, which I knew was ridiculous.

  But deep inside I still felt sick and sad, and though over the next half hour I piled the sandwich and the whole slice of cheesecake into my stomach those feelings remained beneath the food.

  I'd had friends in the past wonder whether I felt wrong or dirty for having so many partners. I honestly never had, and they'd been surprised, but to me it just made sense. I didn't hurt anyone, didn't lie or cheat or break up relationships, and the men and I both got what we wanted. I'd told the last friend who asked me, "I don't see why I should feel bad because I love sex," and I still felt that way.

  For some reason, though, the disgust in Calvin's eyes stung me. The easy answer was that I really did feel bad about having so many partners and just wasn't admitting it to myself, but when I thought hard I didn't think that was the case. It seemed like it was something else.

  A little more pondering didn't bring the reason to light, and I was tired of thinking about it all, so I went upstairs to take a shower in the hopes it would rinse my mind clean as well as my body. When I stepped in, though, I noticed several tiles near the top of the tub surround were crumbling and one was missing entirely, and though I still took my shower I didn't enjoy it as much as I'd hoped.

  My house was falling to pieces around me. Why wasn't I taking care of it? I loved the place and yet I wasn't giving it anywhere close to the appropriate amount of care. It was crying out for attention and it was time I listened.

  I scrubbed myself dry and put on my pajamas then cruised around the house with a notebook, eventually compiling a list of seventy-nine things that needed to be replaced or repaired. Unbelievable. And the worst part was that most weren't big repairs, or at least they wouldn't have been if I'd handled them when they first started to go wrong. Paddington's leash hook, for example, could have been fixed with a little glue or maybe even just with tightening up the screws, but now it wasn't going to be that easy.

  Well, easy or not, it was going to happen. I had that stupid dog walking session tomorrow morning but after that I would take my list to the hardware store and get everything I needed to fix all my problems. Then I would spend the rest of the day fixing them. I'd no doubt be exhausted after but I'd also know I'd stepped up and done what needed to be done.

  Calvin might think I was the slut of Toronto, but at least I could be a slut with a perfectly functioning house.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The slut of Toronto might have been good at finding guys but she was lousy at home repairs. After the dog walking, no more fun than the last time, was mercifully over for a few more days I went shopping for what I needed to fix the house, but though I bought everything the guy at the hardware store said I'd need it turned out that I was missing one thing.

  A clue.

  I did manage to handle some of the problems, like putting plastic anchor things into the wall so Paddington's leash-hook screws would stay in place and replacing the barely-attached broken shower tiles, but I was only able to take care of the easiest repairs. Even those took me much longer than I'd expected, so by eight o'clock that night I was sweaty and exhausted and frustrated and still had the twenty-two most difficult tasks on the list.

  I was starving too, but I decided to take a quick shower to get rid of the day's grime and sweat before ordering dinner. The shower ended up being far longer than planned, though, because I couldn't stop staring at my newly pristine tub surround. I'd done that. Me. The tiles were straight, since I'd spent forever lining them up, and they looked great. Yes, I'd hated the process, but I loved the results.

  Seeing the fruits of my labor revitalized my determination, so once I was dressed I ordered a pizza for dinner and spent a while searching the Internet for the techniques I needed to complete all the repairs. I wanted them done this weekend, wanted it with a ferocity that surprised me. Some of these problems, like the amazing collapsing closet rod in my bedroom, had been issues for months, and yet it seemed so crucial that I finish them before Monday morning. I found the solutions I needed, but I'd have to work all weekend to put them in place.

  To do that, of course, I had a plan to cancel.

  Percy, sorry but I can't do tomorrow's work session any more. I'm in home repair mode. Raincheck?


  He wrote back a few minutes later, after I'd finished my research and was settling onto the couch with a glass of wine.

  What are you repairing?

  My pizza arrived then, so I paid the guy and loaded up a plate before returning to the couch and sending my response.

  I don't have enough text messages in my plan to list everything.

  I smiled as I hit 'send', hoping he'd remember what I'd said before and pick up what I meant, and he didn't disappoint me.

  Didn't you tell me you have an unlimited plan?

  Exactly.

  My phone rang right after I sent the last text.

  "An unlimited list, eh? You know, I've never thought of you as the handywoman type."

  "Yeah, and you haven't even seen how bad this place looks. It's a little better after today, but it needs work. Serious work."

  "Tell me what you need to do."

  I glanced at my list. "Curtain rods, drilling into the ceiling to hang a light I bought months ago and never installed, my doorbell doesn't work... shall I go on?"

  "Yes, please."

  Surprised, I read him the rest of the list.

  "And you plan to finish all those this weekend? It's a lot for one person."

  I looked down at the snoring lump at my feet. "Paddington's here."

  "Paddington isn't a person, Lydia."

  "Don't let him hear you say that."

  He chuckled. "I won't. How about I don't let him hear me tomorrow, when I come over to help?"

  I blinked. "I wasn't asking you to do that, I was just telling--"

  "I know." He cleared his throat. "I'd like to. If you'd be willing to have me in your house all day."

  Two things surprised me. First, that the frequently lazy Percy had offered to spend half his weekend slaving in my house, and second, how much I wanted him to do it. "It's going to be a lot of work," I admitted.

  "I got that from the mile-long list. But..." He cleared his throat again. "My mom had a bunch of things she wanted me to fix for her and I didn't get on them before she died. I guess I kind of feel like doing them for you will make up for that."

  A third surprise: how little I liked the idea that Percy saw me as a mother replacement.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  If the Guinness people gave out a world record for the most fun anyone ever had doing home repairs, that Sunday would be miles ahead of its competition.

  Percy arrived at nine armed with a toolbox and Starbucks cups for us both, and his calm confidence relaxed me. We sipped our drinks and I walked him through the list, then we got down to work. From the first job, prying out several damaged kitchen backsplash tiles and attaching replacements, I knew he did indeed know what he was doing.

  I tried to defend myself and my lack of knowledge on home repairs at first, but he clearly didn't think any less of me for it so I stopped worrying. While we worked he explained what he was doing, guiding me to help by saying things like, "And now my lovely assistant will mix the grout", and I did everything he told me to with my best magician's-assistant flourishes and learned more than I'd ever expected about how to keep my house in good condition.

  We had fun but we worked hard too, only taking a short break for leftover pizza at around one o'clock when our stomachs were growling too loudly to ignore. I offered to order us a fresh one but he said we should save that for a celebration when the work was done. "Pizza for us and Paddington can have the crusts."

  Paddington, it turned out, adored Percy. When they met Paddington rolled over immediately so Percy could rub his furry stomach, something he usually only did for me or Larissa or my dad, then followed him around the house all day showing off his retriever instinct by fetching him gifts. His favorite chew toy was first, followed in steady succession by nearly every other toy he had. After lunch he presented one of Percy's shoes, and then to my horror the black lace-trimmed underwear I'd worn the day before, no doubt sweat-soaked after all my hard work on the house, from my laundry hamper.

  I snatched the garment from the floor in front of Percy, blushing so hard I felt like my cheeks would explode, and hurried away to stuff it back into the hamper and the hamper into the bathroom so I could close the door and keep the rotten little beast out.

  "Sorry about that," I said, still blushing, when I rejoined Percy where he was working on the closet rod. "Stupid dog."

  "He is stupid." Percy grinned at me. "I told him to raid your underwear drawer but I didn't think he'd really do it."

  I swatted his arm, glad he assumed the underwear had been clean. "Don't lead him into temptation. He gets there fine on his own."

  Percy scratched behind Paddington's ears and the dog danced beneath his hand. "He's sweet. High-energy, though. How old is he?"

  "Nearly two. I thought he'd start to slow down soon but so far not so much."

  "How much exercise does he get?"

  I grimaced. "Not as much as he should, probably. He does get out at least a few times a day but it'd be good if he could have more. It's so hard to find the time with work and everything."

  Percy went back to the closet rod. "But you're volunteering at the pet shelter?"

  "Well, yeah. But those dogs live in cages all the time. I feel bad for them."

  "Does Paddington ever get to run free?"

  I shook my head. "I don't know anywhere around here where he can."

  "Me either, actually. But my mom had a dog until last year and she used to take him a little outside the city to a nature preserve where he could run. Might be good for Paddington."

  Most likely, but when would I manage that?

  Percy tightened the last screw on the closet rod. "There. Don't hang anything up until tomorrow so the plaster we put into the holes can finish drying, but once it's set this should hold forever."

  "Got it. Thank you."

  "You're welcome." He cleared his throat. "I don't know about you but I could use a bit of a break." He stretched his arms out in front of him, no doubt stiff from working on the high-set closet rod. "How's about we finish reattaching the dryer vent hose then take this hairball for a nice trip to the nature preserve?"

  "But it's snowing."

  "And? It's just a few flurries. You're Canadian, aren't you? Don't tell me you're afraid of a little frozen water."

  "Okay, I won't."

  We laughed, and I said, "I'm really more of a 'sit inside and drink hot chocolate' girl than a 'go out in the snow' one."

  "Well, let's go out in the snow, then have some hot chocolate. Best of both worlds."

  "Do you think we'll be able to get everything fixed today?"

  He nodded. "I'll stay until midnight if I have to."

  "The Hogs are playing tonight," I warned. "You'll miss it if you're still working at midnight."

  He smiled at me. "Then we've got incentive to work faster. But I do think a little fresh air would be nice. All I can smell right now is grout sealant from the kitchen."

  "True." I wavered another moment, then gave in with, "You promise we can have hot chocolate?"

  He took Paddington's front paw and patted my knee with it. "We can trust him, Mommy."

  Two Mom-related reference in as many days. Wonderful.

  *****

  "Are you surviving? Not frozen yet?"

  The snowflakes had been falling steadily as I drove us the thirty minutes or so to the preserve, and now that we were walking in the forest they drifted lazily between the trees before floating to the ground. The air was still, cold but somehow pleasantly so, and though we'd been walking for at least five minutes without talking the silence was even more pleasant, not remotely awkward.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and gave a huge mock shiver, then admitted, "It's gorgeous out here."

  Percy didn't say he'd told me so, even though we both knew he had. Instead, he said, "Good. I used to love coming here with Brutus."

  "Who?"

  "Mom's dog."

  I smiled. "Nice name."

  "It's nicer when you know he was
a Chihuahua."

  We laughed together, then fell back into that same relaxed silence.

  Paddington romped around, running to us then away again as the mood struck him, and watching his ears flipping around and his wildly wagging tail made me wish he could spend all his time running free.

  The preserve was crisscrossed with paths, and though several times we heard people talking on paths nearby we didn't see anyone but each other. I'd never felt so relaxed and happy outside before. Solitude was clearly good for the soul.

  Paddington bounced up to Percy carrying a sock he'd found somewhere in the trees. He dropped it at Percy's feet then sat wagging his tail and looking up hopefully.

  I laughed. "That's not a ball, buddy. I don't think it'll work for fetch."

  Percy picked up the mud-caked sock and tied it into a knot. "Let's find out."

  He flung it away into the trees and Paddington raced after it, returning in moments to again spit it on the ground before Percy.

  "You do know he's a retriever, right? You'll be doing that all day."

  He smiled at me. "There are worse things."

  We walked on, pausing several times for Percy to throw the increasingly wet and sludgy sock, then fortunately Paddington found a patch of snow that he simply had to roll on and lost interest in fetch.

  With no dignity my dog rolled around, all four legs in the air, tossing himself back and forth flinging snow everywhere and making little grunts of satisfaction.

  "That looks like fun."

  I gestured to the snow. "He'd share. Go for it."

  He chuckled. "Maybe later."

  After a few more minutes of walking, Percy cleared his throat and said what I'd hoped he wouldn't. "So how was your date Friday?"

  I sighed. "Do you remember what you said about Patricia this week?"