Page 23 of Missing Pieces

Chapter Thirteen

“Told ya!” he exclaims as he brushes past me and into my house.

I throw my purse down on the side table in the foyer and walk into the living room to find him already looking at some of the pictures I put out.

“These your friends from back home?”

I nod. I don’t want to talk about my ‘friends.’ I only put the pictures up so Ivy’s house felt homier. I should have just put fake pictures of people in the frames, it would have brought more cheer to my life.

I must look sad because Easton walks over and gives me a hug. I don’t expect it and jump slightly but he holds on and I find myself relaxing after a few seconds, welcoming the comfort of an embrace that surely means he understands that it hurts to think about home.

He lets me go, walks around and says, “I like what you’ve done to the place. Those curtains needed to go years ago I just didn’t have the heart to tell her.”

I forgot that Easton had probably been in this house numerous times over the last ten years and knew how Ivy had decorated it. I had started to do some minor touch-ups that cost little to no money. The first thing I did was take down those awful floral tapestries and replaced them with slate gray curtains that I found at a thrift store in the next town over. My next step was to get rid of the dingy yellow walls, but that required more money and permission from Ivy.

“Yeah, I haven’t told her yet either. I just replaced them earlier in the week. I got a headache every time I looked at them.”

He looks back at me and says, “She’ll get over it. You should do the walls next. I swear she thought this color brought sunshine into the house, but I feel like it’s jaundiced.”

I smile, glad I am not the only one who felt the same way. “That was the plan, but I think I should ask her first.”

“Just do it. It will be worth seeing her reaction.”

I scoff and place my hand to my chest. “And have me take the blame and deal with the wrath of Ivy?” I shake my head and lean against the wall heading into the kitchen. “She told me she would have stapled Trace’s balls to the door of Sawyer’s if she caught him cheating like my husband did. No way am I dealing with that side of her.”

I realize right after I said it that I just shared a little too much personal information. Instead of waiting for him to say something I turn into the kitchen and grab a beer.

“I’ll take the blame. I’ll tell her it was my idea.” Easton stands behind me with a hand out asking for a beer. I hand one over and take a long swig of mine. “I don’t know if that will work. Doesn’t matter anyhow, paint is going to cost money and I need to pay you for my car.”

He sighs and leans back against the kitchen counter crossing his ankles. “You got plenty of time to worry about that car since you have a perfectly functioning vehicle right now.”

I change the subject because I don’t know how I feel about him giving me a truck or the fact I have plenty of time as he put it. Does that mean he thinks I am going to stay longer than I intended to? Does he think he’s the reason I would stay longer? It is a totally far-fetched idea since I am pretty sure he only wants to fuck me. My heart is feeling things it shouldn’t be feeling and I need to keep those feelings under lock and key. I need a lot more time than a few weeks to get over a divorce that isn’t even finalized. I really wish my lawyer would just give me a damn date.

I realize I have been spaced out and getting lost in my head again. Easton stares at me with questioning eyes. He knows I am going through some shit and I’m glad he doesn’t ask the questions aloud, but I can tell he is curious. I slam the rest of my beer and throw it in the recycling bin. I grab another because why not? I need to mute these emotions somehow.

I look at the clock and see it’s just past six. “I guess I’ll start on dinner. Any requests?”

Easton takes another swig from his beer and shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter to me. What have you got?”

Question of the day. I haven’t really been entertaining guests and my poor choices at the grocery store have consisted of mostly frozen pizza and macaroni and cheese. I look in the refrigerator and find some chicken. “Chicken with pasta sound alright?”

“Great,” he says as he walks to the fridge and grabs another beer.

I get to work cutting up the chicken and sticking it in the oven. As I chop up some vegetables, I notice Easton has left the kitchen. I don’t think much of it because I don’t care if he walks around. I have nothing to hide except for my vibrator and I am pretty sure he’s not going to go snooping in my underwear drawer.

I throw the vegetables into a pan to let them soften and marinate in oil. As I go to fill the pot with water for the pasta the smell of smoke permeates the air and within seconds the smoke alarm is beeping. Easton runs from down the hall into the kitchen asking what’s going on. I have no idea what’s burning. I am not exactly a master chef. In fact, I am sure I would probably get fired from McDonald’s with my lack of skills in the kitchen. I just hope Ivy never asks me to man the grill at The Scrambled Egg.

Easton opens the oven and smoke comes pouring out. He removes the chicken and shuts the oven off. He waves a towel in front of it to disperse the smoke. “Looks like there is some old cheese stuck to the bottom of your oven. Started to burn.”

I bend down into the oven and sure enough, see remnants of last night’s pizza. I put my hand onto the counter to push myself back up and realize my hand wasn’t on the counter but the handle of the pan of vegetables. I’m not quick enough and the weight from my hand flips the pan off the burner and onto the floor.

“Have I ever said I am a bit of a klutz and not the greatest cook?” I ask wincing.

Easton laughs out loud and grabs the pan off the floor. He throws me a towel to wipe the vegetables off my dress. He puts his hand to his chest in a mocking gesture and says, “Me? I have never seen you smack your head on a counter trying to pick something up or leave work covered in ketchup.”

I throw the towel back at him. “Well I am going to go change and then I’ll figure out something else for dinner.”

I start walking toward my bedroom when he yells, “Hey sweet cheeks. I happen to be a master in the kitchen. How about I take over, you change and grab us some more beers?”