"Aryan," she whispered, her hand rising to cover her mouth.
"Yeah," I breathed, staring at my own face in the photo. "Stan is... Stan is a wizard with a lens."
"Look at my face," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I look... I look so happy."
"You are happy," I said, turning to look at her. "Right?"
She turned to me, dropping her hand. She launched herself forward, tackling me into a hug that sent us both toppling backward onto the soft rug.
"Oof!" I grunted as my back hit the floor, Wanda sprawled entirely on top of me.
"I am so happy," she laughed, pressing frantic kisses all over my face. My jaw, my cheek, my nose. "I am so, so happy, Aryan."
I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist, laughing up at the ceiling. "Okay! Okay!"
We lay there on the rug for a minute, catching our breath.
"We have to hang it," she decided, pushing herself up to rest her hands on my chest. "Right now. It cannot sit on the floor."
"Right now?" I groaned, looking at the ceiling. "Wanda, it's a giant piece of mahogany. It requires tools. It requires precision. It requires a stud finder."
"You are a doctor," she teased, poking my chest. "You have precision. Go get the tools."
"You are a slave driver," I grumbled, but I rolled out from under her, pushing myself up to my feet. "Fine. Let it be known that I am risking my drywall for love."
I walked through the kitchen and out the side door, stepping into the cool night air to access the detached garage.
I flipped the light switch. The fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, illuminating my workbench.
I didn't have to fake the tools. I actually owned them. A man needs a drill, even if he can alter reality. It's the principle of the thing.
I grabbed the yellow DeWalt power drill. I grabbed the little plastic organizer box filled with drywall anchors and screws. I picked up the spirit level with the bright green liquid bubble and a tape measure.
I looked toward the corner, catching the invisible 'lens' of the audience.
'Look at me.' I thought, a smug grin pulling at my mouth. I'm Bob the Builder. I'm about to put holes in my own house because my Scarlet Witch is impatient.
I carried the armful of tools back into the house, dropping them onto the coffee table with a metallic clatter.
"The arsenal has arrived," I announced, hefting the power drill. I pulled the trigger twice.
VRRR.
VRRR.
It is a proven fact that no man can hold a power drill without pulling the trigger twice just to hear it spin.
Wanda was standing in front of the fireplace, her hands on her hips, inspecting the large expanse of wall above the mantle.
"Here," she commanded, pointing to the center. "It must be the focal point of the room."
"Alright, Foreman," I said, grabbing the tape measure. "Hold this end."
I handed her the metal tab of the tape measure. She held it against the left edge of the mantle while I pulled the yellow tape across to the right.
"Sixty inches exactly," I muttered, doing the mental math. "Center is thirty. Give me the pencil."
She handed me a pencil from the coffee table. I reached up, making a small tick mark on the white drywall.
"Okay, now we measure the wire on the back of the frame," I said, walking over to the portrait. I pulled the wire taut, measuring the drop. "Four inches down from the top edge. Perfect."
I walked back to the fireplace, grabbing the spirit level. I placed it flat against the wall, watching the little green bubble float between the black lines.
"Is it straight?" Wanda asked, leaning in close to inspect the bubble.
"It's perfectly level," I confirmed, making a crosshair mark with the pencil. "Okay. Stand back. Safety goggles on."
"I do not have safety goggles," she pointed out.
"Then engage your safety squints," I joked, picking up the yellow drill and slotting a drill bit into the chuck.
I positioned the tip of the bit against the crosshair mark on the drywall. I took a breath, bracing my weight.
I pulled the trigger.
RRRRRREEEEEEEE.
The drill whined loudly, biting into the drywall. A fine powder rained down onto the mantle, dusting the brick. I pushed until I felt the bit break through the back of the drywall into the empty space between the studs.
"Hole one, complete," I announced, pulling the drill out.
"It is very dusty," Wanda noted, brushing the white powder off the mantle with her hand.
"That's the dust of progress," I said, grabbing a plastic drywall anchor. I pushed the anchor into the hole, grabbing a screwdriver to twist it flush with the wall.
"Hand me a screw," I requested, holding my hand out like a surgeon asking for a scalpel.
She placed a silver screw in my palm.
I swapped the drill bit for a Phillips head attachment. I drove the screw into the anchor, the drill clicking loudly as it torqued into place. I left about a quarter inch of the screw head sticking out.
"Alright," I said, putting the drill down and dusting off my hands. "Grab the left side."
Wanda moved to the left side of the heavy mahogany frame. I grabbed the right.
"Lift on three," I instructed. "One. Two. Three."
We heaved the massive frame up. It was awkward, our arms crossing over each other as we maneuvered it over the mantle.
"Okay, tilt the top toward the wall," I said, peering behind the frame to locate the screw. "A little to the left. No, my left."
"I am moving it to your left!" she argued, straining slightly under the weight.
"Okay, down. Slowly. Down... down..."
Click.
I felt the heavy wire catch the groove of the screw. The weight transferred from my arms to the wall.
"Got it," I breathed. "Let go. Slowly."
We both stepped back, lowering our arms.
I grabbed the spirit level one last time, resting it gently on the top edge of the mahogany frame. The green bubble floated perfectly into the center.
"Level," I declared, stepping back to stand beside her.
We stood in the center of the living room, looking up at the mantle.
The photograph dominated the space. It transformed the room from a generic house into a home. The joy in the image seemed to radiate outward, warming the very air around us.
"It is perfect," Wanda whispered, slipping her hand into mine.
"It really is," I agreed, squeezing her fingers.
"We have two smaller ones," Wanda reminded me, pointing to the brown paper still resting on the floor.
"Right," I sighed, picking up the drill again. "Where to next, Foreman?"
"The library," she decided immediately.
"And the last one?" I asked.
She turned to look at me, a slow smile spreading across her lips.
"The S&M Suite," she declared. "Above the bed."
I choked on a laugh, nearly dropping the drill. "You are really embracing that name, aren't you?"
"It is accurate," she shrugged innocently, walking toward the hallway. "Come, Dr. Spencer."
I watched her walk away, the emerald dress swaying with every step.
I looked down at the yellow drill in my hand, then back up at the massive portrait of us laughing over the mantle.
"Yes, ma'am," I whispered, following her into the hall.
PS: This is the third bonus chapter for this week. We need 106 more Power Stones for the next bonus chapter. Come on guys, let's see how many bonus chapters we can unlock this week, haha.
PS: There are 30+ Advance chapters available on the Patreon for those who want to read ahead. www.patreon. com/Drrajnovel