We make our way to a retro hotel right on the beach, and that’s where the real work begins. His manager’s client is setting up a condo here as an Airbnb, and our goal for the day is to get all the boxes into her unit. It’s hot and sweaty work, the kind of physical labor that feels both exhausting and rewarding. We haul boxes into the service elevator, and up long hallways and into the client’s condo, stopping every now and then to catch our breath. I’m grateful for the exercise, and for the fact I’m not just sitting around like yesterday.
At one point, we take a break. I notice that Timmy’s energy hasn’t waned a bit, despite the physical labor and the Fireball he’s been sipping. “Come,” he says, taking my hand and grinning, leading me to a secret elevator that opens up to a hidden floor with a panoramic view of the beach and the city behind it.
To the right of the elevator is a chapel, and I can’t help but laugh as he gets down on one knee, wearing my big floppy hat, a wifebeater, and a pair of my sunglasses. He looks ridiculous, like a knock-off Kid Rock, but there’s something about the gesture—playful and sweet—that makes me feel lighter. He’s always finding ways to make me laugh.
Afterwards, he takes me into the adjacent bar, ordering drinks while chatting with the bartender and enjoying the view. The bartender is friendly, and Timmy is in his element, chatting away with her about his friend’s cacao farm, and I’m learning more than I ever thought I would about chocolate-making. There’s a part of methat loves how comfortable Timmy is in literally any setting, how he turns every opportunity to show off or make connections. But there’s still that nagging feeling, like this can’t go on forever.
When our drinks are done and I’ve paid our check, Timmy’s boss calls to check in. He reassures her that we’re almost done and that we just have a few more boxes to move. The remaining boxes are quite heavy, and there’s no cart, so we haul them one by one, sweat dripping down my back as I shove the last of them down the long hallway to the condo. By the time we’re done, I’m exhausted but satisfied.
Once we’re finished, the client pays us in cash, and Timmy immediately hands me a little more than half of the money. I blink at the bills in my hand. A couple of hundred dollars. Not bad for a few hours of enjoyable work.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He smiles and nods. “I really appreciate you helping me today. It would have taken way longer and been way less fun without you.”
“I had a good time, too.” I smile at him, although my muscles ache from the effort, and he leans over to kiss me.
I know this can’t last forever—going to work with him every day. His boss might tolerate it now, but what happens when she doesn’t? And what happens when Timmy can’t handle spending a day apart, even when it’s necessary?
For now, though, I push those thoughts aside and let myself enjoy the moment, feeling the weight of the cash in my hand and the warmth of his kiss on my lips.
36
WELL THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY
“Iwant to take you to the botanical gardens,” Timmy announces. “You’re going to love it! It’s very Jurassic Park-like, with the mountains in the background. And there’s this beautiful lake.”
“That sounds amazing!” I enjoy how excited Timmy gets around plants.
“Yeah, I love it there. I think you’ll enjoy it, too. It’s filled with all of my favorite native plants, and there are birds and stuff as well. I can show you all the wild ginger and palm trees I’ve been talking about. Succulents and so on. I can’t wait to take you! We can have a picnic!”
When we show up, it’s stunning, just like he promised. Lush vegetation sprinkled with vibrant, tropical flowers. The unique mountain-scape looms in the background. I really do feel like I’m in a scene from Jurassic Park. There are more common plants like giant monsteras and plumeria, and other exotic ones I’ve never seen before.
“I’m going to call my dad,” he suddenly says. “I want you two to meet. He’s really important to me.”
His dad, being a retired, decorated general in the army, is somehow a comfort to me, a bit like his friendship with Steve.
Someone who got to where he did in his military career, and his impressive corporate career following his military service as a VP for a pharmaceutical company, indicates there’s something genetic in his makeup that makes Timmy also capable of being a productive human.
Sure, he has one sister and one brother, both with significant drug and anger management issues, but he also has a brother who has his shit together, too. So it’s a theoretical possibility that he could ‘turn out well,’ I guess you could say.
Wow, this is feeling serious. An introduction to the parents already.
“Hello son,” says an older man’s voice on speakerphone.
“Hey dad,” Timmy smiles. “I want you to meet someone. Margaux, this is my dad. Dad, this is my girlfriend, Margaux.”
“Hi, Timmy’s dad,” I say, feeling nervous. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” says the voice. “Now son, girlfriend, you say?”
“Yes! We just met recently and we’ve fallen in love. Margaux is from New Zealand, and we have so much in common. And she takes care of me.” He’s bubbling with excitement, and I feel myself blushing.
“Well, son, you certainly need that,” his father replies. “Someone to take care of you.” There’s no humor in his voice.
The comment unsettles me a little. Timmy's about to turn forty, and I’m his girlfriend, not his babysitter.
“And guess what? She writes, dad! She’s a professional writer, and she writes dark romance, but I tease her and call it pornography. I’m in love with a pornographer!”