Chapter 21
We Were Magic
Kiki
Iarrive on the job site early, mainly because I need a few minutes to settle into my skin before facing the day.
I barely slept, but that’s normal for me now. I’m running on coffee and a highly questionable diet of chocolate and ice cream, which feels like a perfectly reasonable life choice given the current state of my existence.
Not that I’m spiraling or anything.
This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Eddie went out with Romy and the guys last night.
Nothing at all.
Look, I don’t care if the guys hook up with Romy. Good for them. Live your best lives, gentlemen.
But Eddie?
Yeah. That’s where things get way more complicated.
Despite how often I remind myself I don’t get a say in how he lives his life, that doesn’t stop my brain from helpfully supplying images I do not need of Eddie and Romy laughing, talking, kissing, and any number of X-rated activities in some podunk bar across town.
That’s the stuff nightmares are made of, folks.
But I don’t get to be jealous. Apparently, I don’t get to feel anything anymore.
And if that fun mental slideshow wasn’t enough to warp my brain, I also received a call from Drake’s defense attorney last night.
Per him, it was urgent that I come to his office to discuss options before the trial.
Which is a load of bullshit.
It’s just a polished way of asking if I’m ready to get on board with whatever twisted version of reality they’re planning to sell a judge.
Hopefully my answer was obvious when I hung up on him mid-sentence.
So yeah, I’m tired. I’m cranky. I’m running on caffeine and spite, and the universe really should not test me today.
Although, there is one upside to arriving early.
The house is quiet enough that I can actually think. No power tools, no job site chaos, no dodging crew members like I’m in some kind of construction-themed obstacle course. Just me and the bones of this grand old girl.
And her bones are spectacular.
I move through the living and dining rooms, taking a closer look at details that are going to disappear the second demo gets underway.
Most of it has already been stripped or damaged beyond saving, but in the dining room, I find a stretch of original crown molding still intact—ornate woodwork, hand-detailed, the kind of craftsmanship you don’t replace with something from a catalog.
It’s not perfect. There are cracks, a few sections pulling away from the wall, but it’s salvageable.
If someone takes the time to do it right.
I tip my head back, studying the height of it, already knowing I’ll need a ladder to even attempt it. And even then… let’s be real. I’m a novice in this arena. Chances are I’d do more harm than good.
Still, it’s worth saving.
I make a mental note to grab Eddie later this morning. Maybe together we can figure it out.
The crew trickles in twenty minutes later, and the easy rhythm of the workday settles into place. Someone throws on a classic rock station, and for a second, I let myself relax.
This is good. I can handle this.
The crew tosses a few “good mornings” and nods my way. Nothing forced, nothing awkward. Just… normalcy.
At least until Eddie strolls in, looking far too good for someone who was out late last night. He pokes his head into the nook and manages what almost resembles a smile. “You’re here early.”
Yeah, well, I didn’t drag myself home at two in the morning after a fun-filled night with Romy the wonder assistant.
I bite the inside of my cheek, as the sharp response balances on the tip of my tongue, but I choose to be an adult and force a small smile instead. “Morning.”
And then, as if summoned by the universe specifically to test my patience, Romy breezes in.
Bright. Effortless. Glowing like she slept eight hours, drank green juice, and made life her bitch before sunrise.
Meanwhile, I have one glass of wine and spend the next forty-eight hours questioning every decision I’ve ever made.
Good times.
“Breakfast delivery.” She carries a cardboard tray loaded with coffee and baked goods, making her rounds like some kind of caffeinated fairy godmother.
I keep my head down and flip through my swatches, determined to stay in my lane.
Until a coffee and pastry appear in front of me. “Here you go, Kiki.”
I glance up, caught off guard. “Thank you, Romy.”
And I mean it.
There’s nothing accusatory in her expression. No judgment. Just a kind gesture from a presumably nice, sweet young woman—which somehow makes this whole situation worse.
Maybe Eddie didn’t say anything bad about me last night.
But of course he wouldn’t. That would require acknowledging I exist.
With a slow exhale, I return my gaze to the table as Romy circles around to Eddie.
“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 help you?”
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.
Why am I like this? I’ve slept with the man countless times. Why can’t I speak to him like a normal human being?
Oh, that’s right, Kiki. Because you’re in love with him. Ridiculously, pitifully in love with him.
Eddie goes right back to his call. “No, listen to me, if it doesn’t ship today, I’ve got a problem on my end. I need you to—hold on.” He pulls the phone away from his mouth, his brows lifting. “Was there something else, Kiki?”
“Yes. Sorry, I just… there’s some crown molding in the dining room, and I was hoping—”
He lifts a finger, silencing me as his attention snaps back to the call. “Yeah, I’m here. No, you’re good. Go ahead.”
I press my lips together, waiting. Again.
He resumes pacing, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fine, then overnight it. I don’t care what it costs—no, I care what it costs, but I care more about the timeline right now.”
He ends the call with a sharp tap and tosses the phone onto the table, scribbling something down on his clipboard before finally scowling in my direction, clearly out of patience. “What do you need, Kiki?”
“Ten minutes.” I force the words out before I lose my nerve. “There’s a section of crown molding I think we can salvage if we remove it carefully—”
“I don’t have ten minutes right now,” he cuts in, exhaling like he’s trying to rein it in.
He’s not lying. It’s a three-ring circus with all the activity swirling around him.
But my needs are important, too, right? I’m part of this crew, no matter how loath Eddie is to admit it.
“I know, but if we wait, the crew is going to—”
“Kiki.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales slowly, like I’m one more problem on his very long list. “Can’t you handle it? The design side is yours, right? Then handle it. I can’t deal with anything else right now.”
His phone rings again, and he snatches it up. “Yeah, sorry, I’m here. Go ahead.”
Just like that, I’m dismissed.
I stand there for a few seconds longer, waiting for some sign—any sign—that what Eddie and I shared isn’t gone. That I’m more than just a nuisance in his life now.
But it never comes, and something inside me snaps at the realization.
Fine, Eddie. You want me to handle it? I’ll fucking handle it.
I drive the short distance to my cabin, grateful it’s close to the job site.
Not that I’m here to rest.