My Hockey Alpha

Chapter 303

Bonus 3: The Color of Love

Nina

Even though sleep was a luxury neither Enzo nor I could afford these days, I found myself energized by the whirlwind of wedding preparations and home renovations.

Thanks to the help of Enzo, all of our amazing friends, and a fantastic group of contractors, we were making huge strides with the renovations on our new home.

Now, all that was left was picking out paint colors for the various rooms in the house; something, anything, to cover that ghastly gray color that made the whole house feel like a depressing little box.

However, exhaustion was slowly creeping in-and with it came snappiness, moments of impatience, and a few disagreements we wouldn’t have had otherwise.

One such argument unfolded during yet another trip to the hardware store.

We were standing in the paint aisle, as we had been doing almost every day for the past week, surrounded by countless paint swatches that neither of us could seem to agree on.

“I still say we should go with yellow,” I insisted as I tapped my finger against a bright buttercup-yellow color on the paint swatch. “That kitchen really needs some color.”

Enzo grimaced, shaking his head. ” Nina, I can’t stand yellow. Besides, it’s too… bright, too flashy for a kitchen. It reminds me of the color of melted butter, or… or jaundice. What about this color?”

I watched as Enzo pulled out a millionth swatch, one which contained the color of slate blue. It wasn’t far off from the color that the kitchen was painted already. It was pretty on its own, but a whole room like that? It would only blend into the gray and blue landscape of the ocean.

I pursed my lips, crossing my arms right after I rubbed my exhausted eyes with my fists. “Blue is too gloomy, Enzo. A kitchen is supposed to be cheerful!”

out a low, annoyed growl.

than mine. But I wasn’t backing down,

is better than yellow, at

asked, throwing up my hands in exasperation.

did Enzo; that he wasn’t all that different from his father after all. But

the right thing to say, and I didn’t really mean it. Richard’s death was still too fresh, too raw to be making comparisons like that. And besides, despite Richard’s short-lived redemption at the end,

about his father. Instead, he pulled out another swatch, one which contained an even more sickly blue hue that could be likened to the deathly pallor

said, shoving the little paper swatch in my face. “This is better isn’t it? Can we just pick a color so we can go

the swatch out of his hands, my frown deepening as

This is awful!

voices echoed

them offering amused or sympathetic smiles, others giving us sidelong looks of disapproval. Neither Enzo nor I paid them any mind, too caught up in our

and seemingly out of nowhere, a croaky

green?” Both Enzo and I turned to find a small, elderly lady smiling at us, her eyes twinkling with a mix of

asked, his eyebrows shooting up

yellow and blue. And a lovely

her frail hand pointing at a particular shade of sage green. It was a color we

deny it; the green was indeed soft, warm, and welcoming-a gentle embrace of our two

at it more closely. It really was a pretty color; it reminded me of the color of the sea

spreading

hand with a somewhat-annoyed huff. But as he studied it, his face turned from an expression of annoyance into one

lady asked, chortling a bit