TROUBLE IN PARADISE

TROUBLE IN PARADISE


Angel's Pov

Ever since the interior designers finished my house, I've been fighting the urge to randomly squeal throughout the night. When I woke up this morning, it was the first thing I wanted to do. So I indulged myself, just once, before starting my day.

I walk out of my bedroom to admire the living room. It looks way less like a temporary home now, and I want to spend so much time here Andrew might think I'm missing again.

First thing they added was a rug that spanned the entire length of the room, a soft, almost fuzzy green. Next we're the couches; plush, round, pale pink chairs. There's a coffee table in the middle, transparent glass with what looks like glitter embedded in the limbs of the furniture, something I didn't notice in the pictures. They placed pictures on the wall too, abstract art that looks like women or animals or fruit or the president depending on how I squint at it.

That's the only thing I might swap out later, I think I'd prefer pictures of mountains or waterfalls, of nature. It's why I picked this particular style, the colour profiles remind me of nature but indoors.

They didn't do a lot to the kitchen, but what they did is just enough. All my cabinets are now green, matching the green of my rug. Plus they gave me a colour palette for anything I want to buy into the kitchen, and I'm kind of looking forward to that.

Even in my bedroom, they'd just added two bedside tables, an intricate dresser, all in deep brown wood. They'd printed on some soft relaxing swirls to one wall, which I like very much.

I texted Cecelia to postpone our girl's night, again, because by the time they were done yesterday, everything was so dusty with random wrapping paper everywhere. It still is, but it's not going to be that way by tonight

They offered a cleaning service which I quickly accepted. It would take me the whole day to clean up myself. Plus it's included in all this so there's no harm.

They left late, so Hank left late too, insisting that he'd stay with me until the strangers left. So I'm half expecting him to be a little late today.

But before it's even eight am, minutes into my appreciation time for my new apartment, I hear a knock at the door. Sleepy and way less anxious, I open the door to see Hank standing there, in a grey t-shirt and a light wash pair of jeans.

Okay then. . . Not late at all.

But it's not just him there. There’s four people, two men and two women, standing behind him wearing grey overalls. I blink at them, as my eyes are drawn to the orange logos on their chest.

Hank smiles and reaches for my hand. I let him take it and he pulls me close to whisper, “Good morning beautiful.” I think I would swoon if he wasn't holding me.

We turn to the other people, who are patiently waiting. The woman in the front, with curly hair piled onto her head, speaks when we give them our attention, confirming what I had in mind. “Mitsy’s cleaning services Ma'am,” she says. “I'm Mitsy and we're at your service.”

“Come on in,” I say and step outside, Hanks hand around my waist bringing him with me.

“They stepped out of the elevator right behind me,” he whispers, “they're very early.”

They're cleaning the living room so we make our way to my bedroom. It's messy as well so they'll be in here to clean when they're done with the living room. Maybe I could take a bath before then.

We're leaving when we're done. Hank is quite paranoid about leaving me alone in the house with strangers so he asked a colleague to cover for him today so he could as long as they'd be here.

I'm standing by my closet door, thumbing through, looking for what to wear when Hank makes a sound of disgust so thick I turn around to look at him. Do I have vermin in the house?

“Ugh, I hate that teddy bear.”

Oh, thank goodness. I laugh at his grumpy face, the exact same one he wore yesterday when I introduced Doug to him. “Oh come on, look at his cute face.”

Doug is very cute, truly which is why I still don't believe him when he says, “No I do. Throw it out, I'll get you another one.”

“Sure,” I joke, turning back to my wardrobe. Maybe I'll wear that yellow one I wore to the farmers market. “Let me just get a big enough trash bag.

“No need. I'll just bring it downstairs with us and toss it.”

That was quite a serious tone. I pause at this, the thought that perhaps he really isn't joking jumping into my head. “Hank, no, I was kidding. I'm not going to throw out my teddy bear.”

“I'll get you a new one,” he shrugs, poking Doug in the stomach.

I turn to fully face him now, still a little confused on why he doesn't like Doug. “I don't want a new one, there's nothing wrong with this one. I literally got it yesterday.”

“I don't like it,” he maintains, glaring at Doug, “and I want it gone. It smells like Andrew.”

“Because he's the one who got it for me, Hank.”

“I can get you another one,” he says, still glaring at Doug.

He's not listening to me and it's getting annoying. “I’m not getting rid of him.”

Maybe he finally hears the exasperation in my voice because he looks at me, his pretty green eyes as mildly confused as mine. “This is actually a non-issue, so I don't see why we're having the back and forth.”

I throw my hands up, walking closer to.
him. “So I should just present Doug so you can throw it out because you said so?”

“Well, yeah,” he says casually and for the first time ever I want to hold Hank and shake him. “All I'm saying is for things like this, it doesn't warrant an argument. I'm asking for something of no real consequence.”

“This is looking like it's going to have consequences,” I grit out. “I don't like what you're asking and I don't want to do it.”

“Why not?”

Those two words make me want to hold him upside down while he struggles. “Because it's a gift a friend got me! One I like, one I want to keep, in my apartment! I don't understand what you don't understand Hank.”

“It's not— ” he cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh and I nearly lose it. He's frustrated? “I said I'll get you another one.”

I take my hand down my face, biting down something snide and/or scathing. “That's not the point,” I start, chewing on the words.

“Pray tell, let me understand,” he says almost like he's talking to a five year old. I let it wash over me so I don't get distracted from the matter at hand.

“You can't just come in here and choose what you want me to have and not to have,” I say, impressed that I'm keeping my voice steady. “What's next? You won't like my sheets? My dresses? Are you going to tell me how to wear my hair or tell me I need to pierce my ears? Maybe you'll decide you want a child and that's that, I'll have no say.”

“I wouldn't do that, Angel,” he says vehemently.

“You're doing it right now!” I yell, then promptly fight to get my voice down again. “You're asking me to throw away Doug out of the blue for no reason. And you're insisting, trying to impose your wish over me! This is how it starts and I won't have you thinking that it's okay.”

“Angel—”

“I'm going to go cuddle Doug after my bath,” I say, walking toward the bathroom. “Maybe you s
hould go to work Hank because I don't know what's gotten into you. You're late anyway.”