Page 30 of First Date: Divorce
The younger man’s words slowed to a stop.And here Eric had always heard the Irish were great talkers.
Silence was fine.It was the uncomfortable feeling that Kiernan had something to say, something trying to get out, that Eric didn’t like.
“Yeah,” he offered in the mildest of invitations to continue.
“You said you’d had a breakup.A divorce.”
“Yeah.”
“Suppose the kick in the teeth is even harder when you’ve been married.”
He remembered Kiernan saying he, too, had a bad breakup.
“Don’t know if the feeling in your gut’s any different or worse with a divorce,” he said.“Involves a lot more lawyers, forms, and regulations, that’s for sure.”
Kiernanhuh’din empathy.“Glad to miss that.”
His expression softened and Eric figured Kiernan was thinking of Bexley Farber and that they’d never face a divorce.
Eric’s mouth lifted.Hilary had done a number on him, but he wasn’t cynic enough to think Kiernan didn’t have a good shot with his Bexley.
Kiernan still stared out the window when he broke the silence abruptly.“You made a play for Bexley.”
Eric turned to the profile of the younger man.“I didn’t.”
Kiernan faced him.“I don’t hold it against you.I surely can see why any man would.And I might need to thank you.”In response to Eric’s raised eyebrows, he added, “How I felt about the idea of you and Bexley … It started me seeing straight.”
Eric smiled back at him.“Glad to be of service.”
Kiernan’s expression turned more serious.“I hear your ex is visiting.There seems some confusion about the exact situation with the two of you…”
He left the blank for Eric to fill in details.He said only, “Confusing to me, too.”
“Ah.Well … If there’s ever anything I can do that might help…”
Eric thanked the other man as they shook hands.Maybe he should dig more to find out what rumors circulated, but he didn’t want to lie to Kiernan, so he let it rest.
Still gripping his hand, Kiernan said, “I mean it, Eric.I owe you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When Eric pushed open the shop door after parting from Kiernan, K.D.stood on one side of the counter and Mrs.Cavendish on the other.Between them sat a small pile of clothes and a larger pile of clothes.
“This is what we’re taking.”K.D.rested her hand on the small pile.
Mrs.Cavendish spotted him and smiled with more relief than if he’d been the cavalry, and she’d used her last bullet.
She addressed him.“Truly, Mr.Larkin, these pieces are entirely necessary for what you indicated.”She patted the larger pile.
He picked up K.D.’s pile and placed it atop Mrs.Cavendish’s.“We’ll take them all.”
“Eric.”He wouldn’t have ignored K.D.’s tone in a cop-citizen situation, but this wasn’t that, no matter how she pretended it was.
“All,” he repeated.
“Excellent, Mr.Larkin.In the end, she dresses beautifully and I believe you will be pleased.”
K.D.glared at the woman.The kind of glare that should have criminals quaking in their bad-guy boots, and irk high-class shop managers who already appeared frazzled beneath a calm veneer.
