“I don’t think so. I did that piece myself. Smooth like a baby’s butt.”

I grimace to myself, standing. “Felt like there was a rough patch.”

“Shelby needs you upstairs.”

“I heard. I’m just wrapping up.”

“Sanding?”

I brush off my jeans and remove my goggles. “No, I guess not. Seems ready to go for the painters tomorrow.”

“I’d say so.” The corner of his mouth twitches.

“I’m nervous,” I admit.

“About the painters or my daughter?”

I ignore his obvious attempt to wind me up. “The painters. I don’t feel like we’re ready. Like I’ve done enough.”

“We’re ready.”

“The addition—”

“Is ready. It looks great. It cost a chunk of money, but it was worth it. We’ll recoup it and then some. She was right, as usual.”

I release a slow breath and he grins, reassuring.

“You were right, too. I know she was stubborn about it, but you backed her and you were right to do so. The nook is perfect, and you did a fine job on that master bath. You two make a good team.”

“Well”—I scratch at my beard, feeling my face prickle—“I guess that’s why they hired us for this show. We do well together on-screen.”

Daniel shakes his head, reaching down to pick up his lunch pail and belt. “Not only on-screen, Riggs.” He widens his arms, gesturing to the house at large. “You did this. She has the vision. Shelby always has. But you make things happen. You bring her visions to fruition. That’s special.”

I swallow hard. I’ve been floating a long time. Trying this, chasing that, never quite finding anything to tie me down.

But this? It’s something I could do. Maybe I wasn’t looking for something to tie me down. Maybe I’ve been looking for someone, an anchor. And not just any someone. Not like the proverbial “someone,” but her. As in, she is the only one.

As if that first day, when I knocked on Shelby’s door and helped her finish those shelves, her soul entwined itself with mine, holding me down and passing me a brush loaded with varnish, and said, Stay with me and we can build something together.

I’ve never really delved into the whole “soul” business before, but if we do have souls and those souls have mates, Shelby’s soul is mine. After all, I am hers in every literal iteration. Why should my soul be any different?

I don’t know how long I stand there thinking, but it’s long enough that I’m snapped out of it when Daniel shuts the front door behind him. With everyone gone, I take the stairs two at a time up to Shelby.