Page 110 of Now That It's You
“Cara.” His voice sounded flat as he held the door open and stared at the woman he’d once laughed with, cared about, lived with.
“Don’t sound so excited,” she deadpanned, offering him a wide smile to show she wasn’t really offended.
“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you.” He ran a hand over his chin and realized he hadn’t shaved for days. When was the last time he’d showered?
“I brought you something,” Cara said, holding out a cardboard box.
Kyle looked down at it, staring into the clutter of his past life. Cara’s arms bowed a little under the weight of it, so he reached out to take it from her.
“What is all this?” he asked.
“The stuff I told you about the other day. Just a bunch of knickknacks you left behind at the house.”
Kyle stared down at the contents of the box. He spotted a charger for a phone he’d lost years ago and a sweat-stained baseball cap he used to wear on camping trips. There was half a roll of wintergreen lifesavers she couldn’t possibly have assumed he still wanted, but he thanked her anyway.
“I appreciate it,” he managed. He looked back up at her. “Did you want to come in for a second?”
He hoped she’d say no, but she smiled like he’d offered her a box of kittens. “That would be great.” She stepped around him, breezing into his home like she’d been here a dozen times before.
In truth, it had only been once, just a few weeks after their breakup. She’d stopped by to reclaim the muffin pan he’d forgotten was hers to start with, and they’d laughed about it and agreed to remain friends when all was said and done.
From her bed in front of the fireplace, Bindi raised her head. She looked at Cara for a few beats, then laid her head back down on her paws and closed her eyes.
Cara headed for the kitchen bar and pivoted to face him. She smiled again, and he noticed she wore a low-cut black dress he used to love on her. Her dark hair was held back with a blue and green silk scarf that matched her eyes. She looked fresh and polished and beautiful and not a single thing inside him stirred.
“I like the scarf,” he said, for lack of anything better to say.
“Thank you. You gave it to me for my last birthday.”
“I know.”
“I thought I was getting an engagement ring.”
“I know,” he said again. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged and leaned back against the granite counter. “It seems silly now,” she said. “Water under the bridge.”
“Right.” Kyle set the box on his dining room table. “Want something to drink? Wine or beer or water or something?”
“Beer would be great!” she sounded entirely too upbeat for a woman who used to hate beer, but Kyle rummaged in the fridge and found an amber ale he thought she might like. He poured it into a glass, trying to be a good host but mostly feeling like a curmudgeonly asshole who just wanted to be left alone.
He handed her the beer and eased himself onto a barstool beside her.
“You’re not having one?” she asked, seeming to hesitate as she raised the glass to her lips.
“I’m good,” he said. “Gotta work.”
“Work,” she said, taking a small sip of the beer as her eyes scanned his dining room. “How’s that going?”
“Good. Sold a piece to a gallery in Wisconsin.”
Cara smiled and reached out to trail a finger up his arm. “Not my piece, I hope? The calla lily?”
Kyle shook his head. “No. Not that one.”
“Good. I want you to have something that makes you think of me.”
“Why?”
