I lean back against the convertible watching the scene before me unfold. A smirk of amusement slips out. She grips one leg of the table, an aggravated sigh escapes her. I look on as the table is flipped at a new angle. After a few forceful pushes she takes a step back.

I rest my head against the car and let out a chuckle. A few seconds pass before I look back at her. Her flushed face make me laugh louder. I give her one of my famous ‘You should have listened to me when I told you it wasn’t going to fit’ looks.

She glares at me as I open my mouth to speak.

"Told you it wouldn’t fit." A sweet smile covers my face.

She takes a few more steps in my direction.

"Well maybe it would fit if the genius who put it together didn’t do such a crappy job."

I fold my hands across my chest in mock hurt. "What?" I point at the table and use my best serious voice. "That is some quality Davies’ craftsmanship."

She laughs. "Davies’ craftsmanship? No wonder it looks like a piece of crap."

We both share a laugh at her words. She steps forward and I wrap my arms around her waist. Her head instantly finds comfort in my shoulder. We stay like this for a few moments before she break the comfortable silence.

"How the fuck are we going to get it inside?"

I stay silent for a moment before speaking. "Maybe we should get everything else inside and worry about the table last." She pulls away from me and looks back at the house, arms still wrapped around my neck.