The Way Back

Silver Chain

Lindsey stepped back, dropping the brush into the paint tray. He folded his arms over his chest and squinted, peering keenly at the six varying gray squares he'd coated onto the white wall. The part-time painter could barely tell the subtle differences in four of the colors. He scratched the stubble on his chin and stepped closer to the wall. He cocked a skeptical brow and rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if he had put the same shade or tint on the wall more than once. He smiled as arms snaked around his middle. "Thought you were sleeping," he said, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. Lindsey laughed softly as she grumbled, scrubbing her face against his back. Her round belly pressed into him, and he knew why she couldn't nap as he felt the flips and rolls.

"I swear your son is going to flip sideways. He's moving so much," Stevie whined irritably and released Lindsey, placing her hands on the sides of her belly and smoothing her palms in slow circles. "Why isn't the furniture here yet?"

"It's coming tomorrow, Stevie," he answered and glanced at her. "Remember?"

Stevie waved a hand, silently cursing her foggy pregnancy brain. She leaned against Lindsey. "I thought it was today."

"Paint today. Furniture tomorrow," he recapped and eased an arm around her, kissing the crown of her blonde head. "Hey," he said with a nudge. "Are you still sure about gray? Absolutely sure?"

"Yes, Lindsey," she replied with a roll of her eyes. Stevie grew frustrated each time he asked that question. He doubted her choice every single time the nursery was discussed. She had a vision of gray walls, white furniture, and simple blue and pink bedding. She had considered white walls, but gray was the cooler, classier cousin of white that she couldn't stop thinking about.

Lindsey mumbled, "They all look the same to me." He gestured to the splotches on the wall in front of them.

"They are not, Linds," Stevie returned curtly and pulled out of his grasp. She moseyed to the paint samples, pointing to each color and naming them. "Silver Chain, Mole's Breath, Plumbago Gray, Gray Owl, Graytint, and Cloud," she finished proudly with a smile on her lips. "Which one do you like?"

"Gray Owl and Graytint look the same, Steph."

"Lindsey, they are not the same! Gray Owl is cool with a slight hint of green," she explained.

"Same," he muttered and took the few, short steps to stand next to her, bumping his hip against hers. He flapped his hand towards the two of the other grays. "Do you need your glasses? I don't see much difference between the Winnebago one and the mole one either."

She gritted her teeth and shook her head, glaring at him. "It's Plumbago, and I do not need my glasses. Plumbago has warm blue undertones. It's clear as day, Linds."

He huffed an uninterested sigh as she described each paint color to him. Lindsey flopped onto the floor and scooted until his back hit the wall. He stretched out his legs and closed his eyes until her droning descriptions lulled him to sleep.

Stevie stood over him, hands on her hips with a vicious glare fixed on her bare face. "Lindsey!" she bellowed as she swiftly kicked him with her foot.

He jolted and sprung to his feet. "Goddammit, Stevie!" he shouted. "You didn't have to kick me."

"You didn't have to fall asleep. This is important, and you're blowing it off."

Lindsey felt like pulling his hair out at the roots. He didn't feel as though he was undermining the importance of the paint choice, but he knew from experience how indecisive she could be. It had taken months to choose a color for Libba's nursery decades ago. Elisabeth's nursery had been half marshmallow pink and half strawberry sorbet pink up until two weeks before Stevie went into labor. He shook his head, recalling how she'd completely changed her mind on the room being pink. Lindsey ended up spending days painting the room a pale iris. "Steph, pick a color. The painters will be here soon."