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“Fuck,” I whisper, which is pathetic in itself because now I’m getting weepy, and there hasn’t even been any wine involved. There was some binge eating, though, eating my feelings, so maybe that counts. And now I’m talking to myself. Great.
I could have chased Kayden away for good. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to or couldn’t find the strength. It was that it would have hurt him to know the truth, and I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it eight years ago, and I couldn’t do it this morning. I knew Kayden would know if I was lying. He did then, and he still knows, which is actually why I think he’s here.
Maybe he’s not here to ruin my life.
Maybe he’s here to save it.
Which would also be ruining it because it would never work between us. The fundamentals haven’t changed in almost a decade, and they wouldn’t change in a hundred years. We had our time together, and it was up long ago. I should have moved on. He should have moved on. We both should have moved on.
I can’t handle this. I have to call Sadie. I need her to talk me up, talk me down, talk me into a plan, god…just talk me something because I’m going insane here. Above all, I really do need to keep my head focused. When I lose focus, bad things happen, Kayden things happen. And Kayden things cannot happen. Kayden things only lead to heartbreak. Believe me. I know that for a fact. I’ve had enough experience.
Just as I’m about to dial Sadie’s number, inspiration hits.
For once, I actually have an idea—an evil idea. They don’t come often, and usually, I have to force them. But this time, it was all me. Dang, this is going to be good. I mean evil. I mean tasty—evil tasty good. A sly grin spreads over my face as my fingers move, dialing a number that isn’t Sadie’s.
CHAPTER 10
Kayden
Well, shit on a biscuit. At least I’m clean, but I’m still starving. I never thought to bring groceries. Of course, I have to get them in order to cook. Duh. That was an oversight on my part. I should have just dug into that pizza Rea appeared to be offering. She was acting too nice about it, though, and it made me leery.
My stomach grumbles noisily as I take a seat on the floor. I haven’t bothered with furniture yet, but I really should get on that—just open up my phone, make some purchases, and have it sent over here. It’s not that hard. The place is a dump, though, and part of me is resistant to ordering new furniture when it will have to get covered and moved around when the renovation starts.
Wait, what?
Am I seriously considering taking that on?
I bought the house and didn’t make any plans for it beyond just having it because it was right next to Rea. Should I hire a crew to come in and start? A few crews? I don’t really know anything about fixing anything up. Hiring a general contractor would probably be the place to start, although fuck if I know. I better flip on some home reno shows on my phone or do some serious amateur research from my air mattress on the floor, which is also extremely uncomfortable, even though it’s one of the best ones on the market.
One thing that still works is the doorbell, oddly enough. I guess the previous owners didn’t have a use for that. Copper pipes? You bet. The toilet? Hell yeah. Some of the drywall here and there? Apparently. But the doorbell? Guess they weren’t expecting guests wherever they went. It’s probably more likely that no one wanted to buy it.
And I’m a little surprised there’s someone out there ringing it right now. I stand up slowly and take my time getting to the door, figuring it’s probably someone selling something. If it’s cookies, I’m in for the whole trunk load because gotta support young entrepreneurs and all that. But if it’s anyone else, I’m probably going to have to duck and run.
The bell rings again, and once more right after. I make it a point to hurry it the heck up because whoever is out there means serious business. Damn, I really hope it’s cookies. I don’t usually eat that kind of stuff, but right now, I’m hungry enough to consume a whole box. Literally probably the box as well as the contents.
I pull the door open slowly and stare down at a teenage guy. He looks young, and his hair is dyed that peroxide blonde that’s more orange than yellow. He has his hat turned backward, and his pants ride low to his knees. I know how much Rea hates that. I used to call her a granny for pointing it out, back when we were in our early twenties.
