Page 46 of Not You Again
“It’s new. Give it time.” She studies me and twists the cord for her headphones around one finger. “Listen—this is my third season filming the show, and I can tell you, if you’re worried about how to make it work, it’s a good thing. It’s the ones who don’t think they need to try that are in trouble.”
I nod, not sure what to say to that. Making it work shouldn’t be what I want, right?
“Some days that’s all it’s about. Trying, I mean.” She gives me a small smile. “Show up. Try. Repeat. Some days are hard. Hardly any are perfect. But the good ones always follow as long as you keep showing up.”
I frown. Things were so easy with Kit the first time, but we really only made it a few months. Where would we be now if I didn’t expect everything to be easy with him forever? What if I let him in the door when he showed up after his absence, and what if I’d forgiven him for not being able to tell me he loved me too? I rub my forehead with my palm, shaking my head. I can what if myself to death, and it won’t change where we are now.
“Look who’s here.” Cassidy nods toward the kitchen.
Kit strolls in, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled to his elbows. It’s a look I’ve come to appreciate on him. A look that says he’s worked his ass off and now he’s coming undone at the seams, just a little. It isn’t fair how he looks so … so …
“God, that man is walking kryptonite, isn’t he?” Cassidy says, tutting as she shakes her head.
I crack my neck turning to look at her. Is she serious?
Cassidy laughs. “I have eyes. And I know you do too. I see how you look at him.”
I stutter, exasperated, and cross my arms over my chest. “How I look at him?”
“Cool your jets.” Cassidy gestures for me to turn around so she can flip on my mic. “I don’t want your husband.”
“What? Are you saying I’m jealous?” I say it too sharply, too loudly. Loud enough for Kit to look at me. The grin he gives me is devastating. I grip my skirt in my fists to keep my hands from shaking.
“I’m saying, Kit’s one of the good ones. It’s okay to want him. And it’s okay for him to know you want him.”
She flicks my mic on just in time to catch my mumbled, “The nightmare never ends.”
CHAPTER TWENTYKIT
Andie looks a mess. She’s pulled her hair back into a chaotic bun that’s now frizzing at the edges. Her skin is flushed and blotchy from kneading dough and managing being on camera while cooking for the last couple hours. She’s got marinara on one of her canvas sneakers and flour streaked across the neck of her blouse.
She is without a doubt the most stunning human I’ve ever seen.
I can’t help but smile as she approaches. Her tough exterior cracks for a moment, and she looks me in the eyes as a smile flits across her face too.
Its effect has me unraveling, as if she’s found the loose thread she left in my heart ten years ago and gave it a solid tug.
“Hey.” Her nose wrinkles as she says it, and that thread in my heart loosens again.
“Hi.” I lean on the counter because my knees have suddenly turned to Jell-O. “How was your day?”
“Long.” She gives me a flicker of a smile again. “I won’t bore you with the gruesome details of the charmeuse catastrophe of twenty twenty-four.”
“Was blood drawn?” My eyes fall to her hands.
“No more than usual.” She holds her palms up for me to see.
“I told her to use duppioni silk instead, but she won’t hear it.” Jamie pours a glass of wine and slides it across the counter to me.
“It’s too structured.” Andie shakes her head. “I need this to flow.”
“Are you a designer, too?” I ask Jamie. Andie’s hands are still between us, so I take one in both of mine and knead her palm like I did on our honeymoon. Her small intake of air, followed by a shiver and her eyes sliding closed, is enough for me to know I should keep going.
“Never professionally.” He waves off the idea. “More of a hobby, really.”
“You know, Andie could really use an extra pair of capable hands while she gets ready for Fashion Week,” I suggest.
Her eyes fly open and she glares at me, snatching her hand back.