I click the pen and jot down “wall” on the paper, then hand it over.
Rooney nods, then reads the next item. “Hot water system? Does yours need to be replaced already?”
I shake my head.
His confusion hangs between us, but I don’t address it.
“Okay, I’ll run this by Wilde. A few of us will help with the wall, but the funds for the hot water system will be something I might have to argue for.”
I’d expect nothing less. I have a feeling that once Wilde knows what I’m planning with that, he’ll magically find the money somewhere.
“Cool, was that everything?” he checks.
When it comes to supplies? Yes.
But as we walk side by side out of my mine, I can’t help the words forming on my tongue.
“Have …”
He pauses, waiting me out.
“Have you ever been in love?”
“In love?” My question has thrown him. “Yeah, of course. I was married too, for a minute.”
He wasmarried? I have so many questions to ask him, but I don’t know where to start or how to make them come out. I’m worried I’ll ask the wrong thing and make him mad because when it comes to Wilde’s End, we have one rule. Don’t ask.
Rooney waves a freckly hand my way. “It’s a long story. But yeah, I assume we were in love.”
“What … what was it like?”
“Being married or in love?”
“In love.”
“It was …” He tucks his hands in his pockets along with my paper. His mismatched colored eyes squint as he thinks. “Confusing. It was like there were all these rules I was supposed to follow, but no one told me what they were beforehand. I had obligations. Things people expected of me. Love is … effort. And losing yourself.”
Well, fuck. That’s not too far off what Kennedy hinted at either. How love would consume him until he wasn’t acting like himself. Between that and Wilde’s answer, I’m starting to question why anyone would want to fall in love at all.
“I thought …” What did I think? I have no experience with any of it. “That it’s supposed to be … good.”
“Eh …” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “For some people, it might be. Ask Wilde. He seems head over heels for his man.”
I don’t answer, and Rooney tilts his head my way.
“Did that help? With whatever you’re trying to figure out?”
Love is pain and confusion. And losing yourself.
Rooney leaves while I’m still trying to figure out the answer to his question.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
KENNEDY
“And where the hell have you been?” Hart asks, leaning against the side of the house, arms crossed over his favorite black tank top.
