“Am I?” She shakes her head again. “Lately, I’m not so sure.”
I think about Slade being Krissy’s guardian, and I know Kat helped ensure she stayed with him.
She lets go of her hair and sits up as the long waves cascade around her again. “Ugh. Enough of my whining. So, you found a cesspool in your basement over the weekend. What’d you do?”
“Well, I called a plumber who was completely unhelpful, so I ran over to the neighbor who just so happens to be Slade.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Really?”
I nod slowly. “Turns out the main broke.”
“Is it fixed?”
“Yeah. But the water was off all weekend.”
Her face scrunches. “What did you do? I mean, you have the kids, and your ex doesn’t live here, right?”
I’ve not shared anything about Miles. Would anyone in Cincinnati know who he is? Not likely, but that’s all about to change when he hits New York and The Morning Show. I need our marriage and the disparagement that followed to be left behind in Chicago.
Would Kat believe me? Maybe. She’s smart and has seen the worst of relationships end in war. Am I willing to take a chance? No. This is my job.
“He doesn’t. We stayed with Slade and Krissy.”
A slight smirk replaces her surprise. “How was that?”
Slade helped me carry everything across the street this morning before I dropped the kids off at the retirement community with Helen.
I thought I’d lost my cookies agreeing to stay with him and Krissy, but when Slade told me everything was ok, he must have meant it because it was. There were parts of it that were even nice. Better than nice.
It was fun going to the park and watching Slade lift Ollie onto his shoulders when he was too tired to walk to the car. But when I turned and saw Frankie wrapped in his giant arms, giggling her squishy face off, I couldn’t look away. I wanted to absorb every second. It was a moment Frankie hasn’t had and one I’ll never stop wishing for her—the safety and security of a man’s arms.
My chest warms at the memory. “It was actually really great. Ollie had the best time.”
We had fun, and that’s something we haven’t done in quite some time.
Her eyelids fall, and her mouth slides sideways even further. “You know, he’s tall, ruggedly handsome, and there’s this soft, sensitive side he seems to keep locked away under that forthright personality.”
Slade is nothing if not straightforward, but I sensed a whole lot not being said this weekend. I could almost feel his mind working, and I wanted to know what was happening behind those long pauses and green-eyed stares.
It all stirred feelings I thought were withered by misplaced trust and betrayal—thoughts and feelings that generate joy, excitement, and anticipation. Annnndd a few sexy thoughts I have no business thinking.
But I don’t have room forthosekinds of feelings. I have to keep my head down, focused, and never get distracted again.
“You’re right,” I admit. “But we’re just neighbors, and I think it’s possible the big grump might even say we’re friends.”
She laughs. “Boy, do we need those.” She fills her cheeks with air and blows it out. She stands. “If you have time, I’m reviewing a new case. Now that you’re an expert, I could use some help sorting through assets.”
“Sure. Send it my way.”
She stops in the doorway. “You know, it doesn’t hurt to flirt a little with a big hunk of a man.” She winks and disappears.
I roll my eyes for no one to see. The absolute last thing that will be happening is flirting. My mouth has a mind of its own, and I can’t help the involuntary sarcasm that spills out. It’s what helped me survive my childhood and my mother’s constant obnoxious dramatics. I’m about as good at flirting as I am at answering a rogue question on social issues.
My phone buzzes, and I flip it over.
SLADE: Did you hear from the city? Is the water on?
ME: Hi! How’s your day?
