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“I heard you blew up the balloons?” Brook cocks an eyebrow.
“I was happy to help.”
“Nice work. Though, helium isn’t good for you in heavy doses. I’d lay off inhaling it. Not that I need to tell you that, bein’ a doctor and all.”
“I’m a surgeon.”
They're still shaking hands…
“Oh, that’s right. I get the two confused. Education around here borders on hog calling and tractor maintenance, stuff I’m sure you know nothin’ about.”
“I’m actually handy with a hammer or two.”
“Is that so?” Brook’s eyes shift to mine and I give him a warning look, one that I’m positive he will choose to ignore. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind. I have a few fences around the property that could do with a hammerin’…”
“I tend to hire people to do menial jobs like that around my place.”
Brook’s eyebrows raise. Oh, no.
“Menial? I guess using your hands to build somethin’ isn’t the same as havin’ them inside somebody, right?”
“I’m a plastic surgeon.”
Jesus.
They finally let go of the grasp thing they had going on. I watch in horror as Kirk shakes his hand out.
“Oh, so you lift people’s faces and make them unrecognizable?”
Kirk’s eyes narrow. “Actually, that’s exactly what I don’t do. I specialize in rhinoplasty. That’s a nose job, in case you haven’t heard the term before.”
“You think you could do some work on my honker?” Brook turns on the side to showcase his nose, scrunching it from side to side. I shake my head in disbelief. “Accordin’ to my sister, my nose is too big for my face.”
Kirk is about to answer when I cut in. “Well, enough of that. Kirk’s had a long drive. How about I show you around outside?” I look up at Kirk with pleading eyes, hoping he will take the hint and we can get out of this awkward back and forth thing they’ve got going on.
“Don’t go whiskin’ him away now.” Brook smiles like a Cheshire cat. He leans closer and whispers behind his hand to Kirk, “I’d also be aware of old lady Verne, she’s the one who made the cupcakes and may force feed one down your neck. Don’t be alarmed, she likes older guys, though rumor has it she’s frisky as a bobcat and has a thing for men in suits with tassels on their loafers…”
We all simultaneously glance down at Kirk’s shoes. He’s wearing gray loafers with tassels. Something so unassuming seems to now stand out like a sore thumb.
I curse Brooklyn to the pits of hell.
I link my arm with Kirk’s. “Speaking of food, we should go and find a plate.” I smile as sweet as can be. Kirk flicks his eyes to mine. He does not look happy.
“That sounds like a great id—” His phone rings loudly once again. He holds up a finger. “Sorry, honey. I’ll be right back.” He glances at my ex-husband. “Brooklyn.”
“Kirk.”
I watch as Kirk takes the call and wanders his way out to the other side of the barn while I try my best to keep a smile plastered on my face. Try being the word because I’ve no clue what the hell Brooklyn is playing at.
Today of all days?
I try counting to ten, but I get to five and then I let it rip…
8
Brooklyn
“What the hell has gotten into you?” Eden pulls me aside right after the birthday cake my mom made has been cut up, and the kids are all sitting down having a slice.
