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“Thanks, Lee.”

She turned the TV show back on and we watched quietly for a while, but I couldn’t pay much attention to it. All I could think about was Ellis.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ellis

“You seem cheerful,” Lena said, catching me humming a little as I poured myself a cup of coffee the next morning.

I scowled. “Do I?”

“Well, not anymore.” She bumped her shoulder into mine. “Things going well at work, then?” After a moment, she leaned her back against the counter and raised her eyebrows at me. “Or… is there something else going on?”

“Like what?” I tried to sound skeptical instead of defensive, but my chest tightened at the implication anyway.

She shrugged and grinned before sipping her own coffee. “Meet someone?”

I snorted and shook my head. “Hardly. When do I have time to go out? I’m always working.”

“You’re hardly always working.”

“Almost every evening, I’m at the shop, either tattooing, drawing, or doing consultations. And now I’ll be spending my mornings working on fixing up the new space. My free time is next to zero.”

“Fine,” she conceded. “So it’s work that’s putting you in such a good mood then?”

“If you say so.”

She groaned in frustration. “You and Kieran are no different these days.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re both so tight-lipped. He had a date last night and he hardly told me anything.”

A cold wave of dread hit me. “What do you mean?” My voice sounded tight and I swallowed, trying to relax.

She gave me a quizzical look, head tilted a little, before continuing. “He wouldn’t tell me the guy’s name or job or anything about what they did. Basically all he said was that his mystery date is from Pine Bluff and that he’s hot.”

I forced myself to act casual, though anxiety was building in my chest. I hummed quietly in response and took a slow sip of my coffee.

“You’re not remotely curious?”

I shook my head. “His business is his business, Lee.”

“Just like the reason for your divorce is your business?” She sighed, an exasperated sound.

With a roll of my eyes, I nodded. “Exactly.”

“And you still don’t want to tell me what happened?”

The question had been asked a hundred times and though she said it gently, it still rankled. “Lena!”

She held up her hands, palms out. “You’re right. Sorry. I should quit asking. It’s just… I hate not knowing what she did to break your heart.” Her tone was still soft and caring, and I knew she didn’t mean any harm by it. Still, though.

“She didn’t—” I sighed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past now.”

“Well, if you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me.” She put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“I’ll let you know if I ever want to talk about it,” I assured her.