Hopefully my answer was obvious when I hung up on him mid-sentence.
So yeah, I’m tired. I’m cranky. I’m running on caffeine and spite, and the universe really should not test me today.
Although, there is one upside to arriving early.
The house is quiet enough that I can actually think. No power tools, no job site chaos, no dodging crew members like I’m in some kind of construction-themed obstacle course. Just me and the bones of this grand old girl.
And her bones are spectacular.
I move through the living and dining rooms, taking a closer look at details that are going to disappear the second demo gets underway. Most of it has already been stripped or damaged beyond saving, but in the dining room, I find a stretch of original crown molding still intact—ornate woodwork, hand-detailed, the kind of craftsmanship you don’t replace with something from a catalog.
It’s not perfect. There are cracks, a few sections pulling away from the wall, but it’s salvageable.
If someone takes the time to do it right.
I tip my head back, studying the height of it, alreadyknowing I’ll need a ladder to even attempt it. And even then… let’s be real. I’m a novice in this arena. Chances are I’d do more harm than good.
Still, it’s worth saving.
I make a mental note to grab Eddie later this morning. Maybe together we can figure it out.
The crew trickles in twenty minutes later, and the easy rhythm of the workday settles into place. Someone throws on a classic rock station, and for a second, I let myself relax.
This is good. I can handle this.
The crew tosses a few “good mornings” and nods my way. Nothing forced, nothing awkward. Just… normalcy.
At least until Eddie strolls in, looking far too good for someone who was out late last night. He pokes his head into the nook and manages what almost resembles a smile. “You’re here early.”
Yeah, well, I didn’t drag myself home at two in the morning after a fun-filled night with Romy the wonder assistant.
I bite the inside of my cheek, as the sharp response balances on the tip of my tongue, but I choose to be an adult and force a small smile instead. “Morning.”
And then, as if summoned by the universe specifically to test my patience, Romy breezes in.
Bright. Effortless. Glowing like she slept eight hours, drank green juice, and made life her bitch before sunrise.
Meanwhile, I have one glass of wine and spend the next forty-eight hours questioning every decision I’ve ever made.
Good times.
“Breakfast delivery.” She carries a cardboard tray loaded with coffee and baked goods, making her rounds like some kind of caffeinated fairy godmother.
I keep my head down and flip through my swatches, determined to stay in my lane.
Until a coffee and pastry appear in front of me. “Here you go, Kiki.”
I glance up, caught off guard. “Thank you, Romy.”
And I mean it.
There’s nothing accusatory in her expression. No judgment. Just a kind gesture from a presumably nice, sweet young woman—which somehow makes this whole situation worse.
Maybe Eddie didn’t say anything bad about me last night.
But of course he wouldn’t. That would require acknowledging I exist.
With a slow exhale, I return my gaze to the table as Romy circles around to Eddie.
