“God, what a day,” Romy groans theatrically, checking her lipstick in her compact before motioning to the bartender. “Nolan had me running errands forhours. Do you know how huge a tip you have to give to convince a baker to stay open an extra hour for buttercream frosting? Trust me, it’s obscene.”
The bartender steps over and Romy grins up at him. “Can I get an adaptogen mocktail? The one with the passion fruit? Thanks.” Then she turns her attention back to me. “Next time, I am letting you pick me up like you offered, Eddie.”
From my periphery, I see Kiki still, her mouth settling into a thin line. “You offered to pick Romy up?”
Kiki’s tone is light and pleasant, but there is a sinister glower simmering in her eyes.
She isnothappy with that informational crumb.
Romy waves a hand, completely oblivious. “He did. Isn’t he the best? And I was stupid enough to say no.”
God damn it, Romy. Please be quiet before you make this conversation any more painful.
Seems Kiki wants a different topic as much as I do. She runs her fingers along the smooth wood of the bar, another forced sunny smile on her lips. “How did your Valentine’s Dayturn out? With all those bouquets, you must have had quite the night.”
Of all the questions she had to ask, she chose that one, and I realize the temperature on this amiable chat is about to turn arctic.
Romy lights up, gesturing toward me. “It was the most amazing time. We went to see Theo play hockey and then had pizza afterward to celebrate. His kid is too damn cute.”
It’s like watching an impending car crash, with no choice but to brace for impact.
The words hit Kiki like a stray foul ball. Her jaw tightens, her shoulders tense, and every inch of her petite frame goes rigid.
“A pizza party. With Theo,” she mutters under her breath. “How fucking quaint.”
Then, without further explanation, she turns and stalks from the room, toward the unfinished portion of the house.
Jesus Christ.
“Did I say something wrong?” Romy’s eyes are wide with confusion as I slam the last of my drink.
“Trust me, it’s not you. It’s me.”
I don’t dive into details. There’s no time. Instead, I take off after Kiki, chasing her to the half-finished bedroom that now serves as her office.
She’s pacing the wooden floor, back and forth, back and forth, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? An absolute ridiculous excuse for a human being.”
Then she releases a strangled howl and buries her face in her hands, the agitation wafting off her in waves.
Okay then.
I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest. “Is that directed at you or me?”
She whirls around, eyes flashing. “Oh, that?I’mthe idiot.” Then she jabs a finger in my direction. “You’rethe asshole.”
I blink, completely thrown by the rage in her voice. “What the hell did I do?”
Her sharp, humorless laugh punctuates the air as she yanks the clip from her hair, dragging her hands through the dark strands. “Oh, I don’t know, Eddie. Is this your MO? Every woman you fuck gets a field trip to meet Theo?”
Excuse me? She doesnotwant to go there.
I step toward her, as my temper comes online. “Whoa?—”
“Guess Deirdre doesn’t have a problem with her, huh?” she barrels on, the words flying like bullets. “What is it about Romy? The fact that she’s not from here? That she’s twenty-five? Or is it the blonde hair and big tits? They’re fake, by the way.”
God Almighty, she’s so far off the mark.
“Hang on a second.” I hold my hands up as I close the distance between us. “You like Romy. I know you do.”
