I toss my phone face down on the empty space in my bed. I don't want to talk to Hugo anymore, or think about the truth in his words. Penn is a massive interruption in my life. An interruption I am very angry with, while remaining very much attracted to. The emotions are opposing, and confusing, and I cannot wrap my mind around them.
There's a knock at my front door.
Penn.
I throw off the comforter and pop up from bed. Not a single care about my bedhead or the mismatched pajamas I threw on when I got home so very early this morning, when the sky was at its darkest and the birds were silent.
Emotions tumble through me, but the greatest is relief. My Penn is home.
I throw open the door, not bothering to check to see who it is first.
The man standing on my welcome mat brings me up short.
Duke.
"Hi," I greet, stepping back so he can come in. My neighbors from down the street are on their morning pilgrimage, and now they're peering at us with well-meaning nosiness. When Duke steps inside, I wrap my arms around him. He hugs me back, shutting the door with his foot.
"What's up?" I ask, letting him go.
He shrugs, looking around. "I had some time in my schedule this morning. I thought I would come over and see how much damage you've inflicted on this place without anybody knowing." He throws me a wink.
Spying all my kitchenware stacked up in one corner of my living room, he says, "I take it you don't have cabinets yet? Bathroom or kitchen?"
"That would be correct," I answer, walking with him to the kitchen. Internally, I'm cringing because I know what he's going to see.
"Dai-sy," he admonishes, whistling in surprise when we walk in.
"I know it looks bad," I say, taking in the scene. My kitchen is practically a skeleton except for the large appliances.
He turns to me. His eyes are soft, but worried. "Why don't you get dressed, and we'll go get some breakfast."
At his mention of food, my stomach growls. He grins at my hunger, telling me he'll wait for me in the living room.
I dress quickly in boyfriend jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. I don't have the energy for one of my cute dresses today, and I'm feeling raw. I want the softness of these worn fabrics, a plate of comfort food, and the biggest coffee they can pour.
Duke's standing in my living room like he said he'd be, back to me and on the phone. "I'll leave her front door unlocked. Thanks again, Scott."
"Who was that?" I ask, rolling up the sleeves on my sweatshirt.
"A contractor friend. He's coming over now to measure for new cabinets."
I snap my fingers. "Just like that, huh?"
He frowns at me. "Tell me it's wrong for me to use my connections. Tell me it's wrong to want you to have a functioning home."
"It's not wrong." I bite the inside of my lower lip as I try to parse through my feelings. "I feel stupid. It was dumb of me to rush forward with a remodel without doing any planning."
Duke wraps an arm around my shoulders, giving me a friendly squeeze. "I'd say it's true you've made better decisions on other occasions."
We exit the house, leaving the front door unlocked, and Duke drives to Good Thyme Café. The hostess seats us at our normal table, and the server grins as she approaches, taking our order and asking how much longer until our wedding.
"Three and a half weeks," Duke says, hand snaking across the table to affectionately squeeze mine. "Can't wait to watch my bride walk down the aisle."
I smile my Daisy St. James smile, the one that is expected of me. "I'm the luckiest girl in the world," I tell our server, handing her my menu.
When she's gone, Duke leans forward, gaze earnest and intent. "Things have seemed off with you lately, and I want to check on you. Despite the deal we've structured, you're one of my closest friends, and I want to make sure you're ok."
My hand is still in his, our heads bent toward each other. To an observer, we look like we're having an intimate conversation. And I suppose we are, but it's more secretive than intimate.
