You would think after being with Brian for the last twenty years that I would know absolutely everything about him, wouldn’t you? Well, you’re wrong. I know, I know, it shocks me too. All it took was a worldwide pandemic for me to uncover some of his strange and peculiar ways, don’t get me wrong, they’re not all bad… just, unexpected.


I’ll give you an example. Who would have thought he would be an expert at putting together flat-pack furniture? I know I definitely had no idea, especially as he never let any of that “Ikea shit” into the house before. But desperate times call for desperate measures and when the bookshelf in my studio fell apart while we were quarantined at Britin, I needed it replaced ASAP. I swear I spent over an hour on Google looking this up, but the only place I could get to deliver a new one any time soon was… you got it, Ikea. Apparently, everyone was using this time at home to renovate their homes, so places were backed up for weeks with no delivery date in sight.


Anyway, back to the topic at hand, The moment I told him I had ordered a Kallax bookshelf, he scrunched up his nose, completely clueless as to what I was talking about. I thought pulling up a picture on my phone might be better than me just saying, ‘oh, you know, one of those Ikea cubbies the girls had in their playroom to keep all of the kid's toys hidden away, and now they just used to hide crap from around their house when they have people over to visit.’ Yeah, so showing him the picture wasn’t any better than me telling him that.


I admit, once it sunk in with him at what I'd done he had a little queen out, but when I reminded him that the only other person besides me to set foot in my studio was him. So no one would know our dirty little secret, and everyone will continue to believe that all the furniture we own in the house is imported from Italy.


He huffed and puffed about it a little, but I worked my magic by blowing him in the kitchen and, my all-time favorite move when Brian needs his brain wiped clean… a finger up his butt - where I can press that sweet, sweet 'reset button' that sends him over the edge. He calls me a sneaky bastard when I do it, but I can guarantee you he usually walks away having no idea what we had just been talking about.


It arrived two days later and I could see him watching me from his office as I tried dragging the box along the gravel of our driveway, passed his window, and through the back gate where my studio was located. I won't lie, I thought he would stay where he was, seeing as he wanted nothing to do with putting together that “piece of crap.” But the moment I reached the back gate, he was there to greet me. He looked fucking delicious with his shirt sleeves rolled up and a pen tucked behind his ear. He gave me one of his smiles, the kind that no one else gets but me, and pushed me out of the way.


“Lead the way, Sunshine.”


I opened the gate and watched as he wrapped his arms around the long, heavy box and lifted it off the ground. I could hear him breathing heavily as he followed me down the alley and across the grass that led to my studio.


I truly thought he’d dump the box and let me get on with it, but nope. He started unpackaging everything, chucking the cardboard out of the door, and we both laughed as our cat, Jaffa instantly found it and claimed it as her own.


I like to read over the instructions a couple of times before I do something like this, and while I was doing that, I could see Brian on his knees, organizing the nails into groups. It was really hard to concentrate on the diagrams in front of me because 1. It’s not that often I see Brian on his knees and 2. He has such gorgeous fingers, I could watch them all day. The day I slipped a ring on his finger was probably one of the best days of my life... and not because I had finally married the man of my dreams (that was definitely part of it) but there was something so hot about him wearing a ring.


“Stop being creepy,” he laughed, waving his hands in front of me and wiggling his fingers. Oops, busted.


Before I even had the chance to start - or, more realistically, figure out where to start, Brian had started laying pieces out on the floor in order. It was only then I noticed he’d pulled up the instructions on his phone, and was working from that. Aww, my superhero.


He’d found the screwdriver I’d left on the floor in preparation, and started putting my bookshelf together as though he did it for a fucking living. I sat on the floor cross-legged and watched as he popped a nail in his mouth and made quick work on screwing parts together and hammering shit that needed hammering. Within thirty minutes, it was put together and I hadn’t lifted a finger. He even pushed it into place for me (without me even having to ask.)


“Close your mouth,” he’d said as I stood up and looked at him with my mouth wide open in shock.


“How did I not know this about you?”


“What? That I am a master with my hands?” He said this so confidently.


I shook my head and laughed, that he definitely was, but seriously, what the fuck?


“I used to build shit when I was a kid.” He said.


I nodded.


“Not anything like this, but...jump boxes.”


Brian could see he’d lost me and his cheeks pinked slightly as he explained.


“A jump box for my BMX. I used to make ramps and stuff out of wood I’d find in the park.”


I kissed him hard, not only as a thank you for building my bookshelf, but for sharing another secret from his past with me. We’re at that point in our relationship where he’d pretty much tell me anything, he’s gotten much better at that over the years, but so much of this stuff is hidden away, deep within his brain, and only comes to the surface when something like this awakens it.


It makes me wonder what else I don’t know about him.