The image is grainy, but I’ve seen so many pictures of my nephews at this point I know what I’m looking at. “Aww, look. He or she is going to have their daddy’s huge head.”
“Big cranium. Big brain.” Nothing is going to dent how happy he is. He carefully tucks the image back into his wallet. Takes off his Cubs hat and clasps his hands behind his head as he relaxes back in his gaming chair. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing much.” I pop a cheese puff in my mouth and suck the orange dust off my fingers. I’m living my best life, doing nothing and loving every minute of it. Also I might be texting my new buddy Cap in between drooling over Henry Cavil. Someone bring that man some water. He’s dehydrated. “Going to work on my carrot collection.”
“Ah, the old carrot collection.” He waggles his bushy eyebrows.
“Yeah. I’m making a wedding dress and veil to add to the collection.” I shrug.
“And you’re putting these on the carrots?”
“I do.” Hell, I would if I thought it would get my mind off a certain someone. But nope, joking about carrots makes me think about him. And Hairy Walt, but for completely different reasons. Well, the same reason, but in completely different ways. Hairy Walt saw those pictures and wanted to marry me. Vale acted like I was the last girl on the planet he’d want to see naked.
“Where’s Kiki?” Lewis demands. “You need to get kitted up and go dancing. Have a girls night out or something. Do something to get him off your mind.”
“Can’t. Dal flew out to spend the day with our girl.” I toss a cheese puff into the air and catch it with my open mouth. “I’m perfectly content on my own anyway.”
Okay, I’m twenty-five and single. I should be out with friends or dancing with a stranger or just being a girl having fun. But I’m also splendidly okay with chilling on my own. It’s second nature from all those afternoons I spent alone when Hud was in college or working. So while my besties are both off living their own lives, I’m going to spend my weekend in my ratty pajamas, devouring cheese puffs and way too many Netflix shows while I wait for Monday morning so I can get back to work.
We’ve had a productive couple of weeks so far. An army of electricians and plumbers and painters have swarmed each floor. Cabinetry and other fixtures are all on schedule. Kiki and I have sourced all the new furnishings and décor. The flooring will be installed starting this week.
It’s a tough schedule, but this project has to be perfect. I want the Gladstone group to ask us to do all their hotels.
“You’re thinking about work again, aren’t you?” Lewis asks.
“I am not.”
“Sure. That’s why I’ve been talking to myself for the last five minutes.” He groans.
“Well, then you shouldn’t have mentioned it.” I stick out my tongue at the screen.
He laughs. “I’m serious. There’s nothing you can do at nine on a Friday night that can’t wait until Monday.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll stay here and talk to my new best friend.”
“Who would that be?” His voice is colored with curiosity as he leans closer to the screen, his gaze boring into me as though searching for clues.
“You caught that, huh?” I groan. One day soon I am going to learn to stop opening my mouth and letting whatever thought floats to the top come out of it.
“Spill, Lilly Pilly.”
“Fine.” I give in. “It’s some guy from the Icebreaker app.”
“What?” His eyes widen. “You’re actually using it?”
“I’m reviewing it,” I mutter. “Because you dumped it on me.”
“Hey, Trix, babe?” he shouts, and I jump. “You’ll never guess. Lily’s using that dating app I told you about.”
“She’s using a dating app?” Trix calls from somewhere off screen before she suddenly appears. She bends down so she can smile at me.
“Hey, Trix.”
“Hey, Lily.” She waves. “Let’s talk hot spunks.”
Have I mentioned that Trix hails from Australia? And over there they call good looking guys spunks. Which automatically makes me think of spunk, which takes me back to Hairy Walt and what he was doing to his banana. Eww. I need brain bleach. “I think we need to work on your slang.”
“So tell us about your dating options,” Lewis says.
“Puh-lease.” I roll my gaze at him. “It’s not dating. I’m chatting to one guy. We’re talking. Like the app was designed for. We used the questions provided until we ran out of them. I’ve already taken my rating to a four out of five based on the damn wolf whistle every time I get a notification. This app had to be made by a guy.”
Lewis’s grin grows wider and wider, like a shark sensing blood in the water. “You like him.”
“Sure. That’s what you take away from that. He’s fun to talk to.” I shrug. “But that’s all.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “You can tell me. You can admit you’d say yes if he asked you out on a date.”
“That’s not what this is,” I say.
“It’s a dating app.”
“Yes, but—"
“Better yet. You could ask this guy out,” he suggests. “If it keeps you from pining after that dill pickle then it’ll be worth it.”
I don’t know that dill pickle is the word I would use to describe Vale. I snort under my breath. “Not pining.”
“Sure.” He shakes his head as he pulls Trix onto his lap. “Can you believe her, babe? The jackass tells her he doesn’t want her to her face and she’s still pining after him.”
“Ouch,” I say.
“Be nice.” Trix presses her hand into his chest and gives him a stern look.
“That’s your job.” He tucks her hair behind her ear, a gentle expression taking over his face. “Mine is to point out that some men are assholes. And if that means I need to give her some tough love, so be it.”
They’re so intimate. I might as well not even be here.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Would you two like to get a room?”
“Oh, we will.” He chuckles. “As soon as you and I have finished this conversation.”
“Lewis.” Trix gasps as she rises a couple of inches in the screen.
“We don’t need to finish it.” I glance away. I don’t need to see to know what’s going on out of frame. “I can hang up.”
“Don’t you dare.” He leans in to whisper something to Trix before turning his full attention on me. “I know you’re still hung up on him.”
“I’m not.” I have this whole spiel ready about how I don’t want to date. Not first dates or blind dates or double dates. Not with a stranger or a friend or a fox in socks. And I have absolutely no interest in being the chick who doesn’t understand that when a guy says something, he means it. I was raised amongst a flock of men who don’t say shit they don’t mean. Believing differently is a waste of time. But that doesn’t make it easier to block out that I do have these feelings.