“Here you go, handsome.”
And just like that, Little Miss Sunshine treads on the last thread of my patience.
Apparently, the crew also feels the need to rehash what occurred less than twelve hours ago. Fucking fantastic.
“How are you so chipper, Romy?” one of the guys asks, earning a laugh from the group.
“No joke,” another adds, “considering you were trying to drink us under the table.”
“So long as no one hands her any darts,” Eddie says, humor edging his voice. “You’re a menace.”
“It was one time, and the guy was fine,” Romy protests. “Besides, you had fun.”
“I did,” Eddie replies. “Even if Mike is a bad influence.”
“Hey,” Mike calls out from somewhere behind them. “Don’t drag me into this.”
More laughter rises from the little group. And once again, here I sit, excluded from their fun. A ghost, existing but unseen, and always unwelcome.
The group breaks apart a few minutes later, with everyone dispersing to their corners of the job site.
Everyone except Eddie.
He remains at his makeshift workstation, clipboard in one hand, and phone pressed to his ear, fielding questions for the crew. He barks out answers, already juggling three things at once before the day has even properly started.
But he makes it look effortless. There’s a quiet authority in the way he handles it all, calm and controlled, like nothing could possibly rattle him.
God, it’s sexy as hell.
No doubt Romy agrees with me.
No, you will not go there, Kiki. Just stop right now.
But then he starts singing under his breath, a few lines from a Pearl Jam song, and a flash of memory overtakes me. I’ve heard him sing that before. In his kitchen. Barefoot, smiling over his shoulder while he stirred a pot of spaghetti for Theo and me.
We were so happy together.
I swallow the memory and smooth my hair, as if the motion alone might shove my emotions into place.
Back to reality, which right now, is getting that molding down before his demo crew reaches it.
I walk over and stop on the other side of his workstation, silent and still, waiting for a moment to cut in.
Eddie doesn’t notice me at first. He’s mid-conversation, pacing, flipping pages on his clipboard.
“What do you mean it won’t be here until Thursday?” he snaps into the phone. “That’s not going to work. I need it sooner than that. Yeah, I know what the order says. I’m telling you that’s not going to cut it.”
I continue to hover, determined not to invade his space any more than I already have.
He finally glances up, his eyes flicking to me briefly before dropping back to his notes. “Can I helpyou?”
Great. We’re off to a stellar start. Seems his good mood from earlier has abated.
“I, uh…” I shift my weight. “I wore more sensible shoes today.”
He pauses, dragging his eyes up my form. “Well,” he replies, completely deadpan, “that’s smart.”
Jesus Christ.
