No, Kiki, you’re not going there right now.
“Thanks,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “I wouldn’t want to put you or them out.”
He shrugs. “It’s not any trouble.”
We fall into a rhythm after that, the only sounds between us the steady clanging of metal on metal and the creak of wood giving way as we work, but I steal glances at him when I think he won’t notice.
He’s still painfully handsome. His hair is a bit shaggier andhe’s sporting a short beard now, which gives him a rougher edge.
I debate whether to ask about it, but he said we weren’t fighting anymore, right? This is me not fighting.
I reach over and tap his shoulder, motioning toward his face. “Is this a new look, or did you just not shave?”
He considers my question, running a hand over his jaw. “I honestly don’t know yet.”
My gaze follows his movement, dropping to his gorgeous mouth.
I remember how talented that mouth is.
Romy probably knows it, too, after last night.
Just like that, jealousy sticks in my craw. Again.
“What does Romy think about it?” I mutter.
He snaps his head toward me and narrows his eyes. “We’re not doing that.”
Heat floods my face. Yeah, definitely not one of my finer moments. A forty-year-old woman behaving like I’m eighteen. What a great look.
“Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say, and for the record, despite what you may think, I have zero desire to play matchmaker for you.”
“Good,” Eddie replies. “Please don’t.”
He doesn’t expand on it, so I’m not sure whether he hooked up with Romy last night and is in no need of a matchmaker or whether the idea of his ex fixing him up with anyone is too terrible a concept for him to handle.
Who am I kidding? I’d rather subject myself to a root canal without anesthetic than set him up with another woman.
I ease another section of trim free, desperate to move on from our little exchange. “It looks really good on you, though.”
He pauses mid-motion, the hammer hanging in the air. “I thought you hated beards.”
“On other men,” I admit. “But the truth is, I don’t hate anything about you, Eddie.”
And on that note, it’s time to switch gears to a more neutral topic.
“How’s Theo?”
Eddie softens at the mention of his son’s name. “Amazing, as always. Although, sadly, he’s worse at hockey than he was at baseball.”
I giggle, a mental image of his six-year-old swinging a hockey stick flashing through my mind. “Give him a chance. He’s built to excel. Just like his dad.”
Once again, Eddie pauses like he wants to say something. Something deep and pointed, probably about why I’m complimenting him when I had the audacity to break his heart. But he thinks better of it and returns to his work, gently laying another piece of trim on the scaffold. “His birthday’s coming up.”
“I remember.” In fact, I had wanted to throw a party for the little guy. Sadly, that won’t happen now. “What are you and Deirdre doing to celebrate?”
“Taking him to an indoor water park. Making an entire weekend of it.”
“That’s nice. I’m glad you and Deirdre are doing better.”
