Bonus Kisses - Freya Barker Page 0,63

I should really get going. Lots of stuff to do before the kids come home.” I quickly stuff my things in my bag, but not fast enough.

“You mean your sister’s home.”

There it is. I thought I might be able to get away without a confrontation, but I guess that was too much to ask. I could ignore her and walk out, but I promised myself I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Actually, it’s technically Rafe’s home—his name is on the deed—and I guess since I live there on invitation, it’s my home too.” I force a wide grin—determined to kill with kindness—and toss my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, Mrs. Myers. Same time.”

I have my hand on the door before she has a chance to hiss her response.

“Shameless.” She intends the word to injure, but ironically it does exactly the opposite.

I should be without shame. There’s been enough of it loaded on my shoulders, by myself as much as others.

With my shoulders straight and my head held high, I walk out the door, not even giving her the satisfaction of a retort.

I assume Rafe is out on a call since I don’t see his truck parked in the driveway when I get home. The house is quiet without the dogs he either has with him, or left at the clinic. With nothing demanding my attention, I head upstairs to try out the Jacuzzi tub in the master bath I’ve been eyeing for months.

I spend a few minutes filling the tub with sudsy water and adjusting the jets before lowering myself in. I lie back and manage to enjoy it for about two minutes before I get restless. Not wanting to waste the tub full of water, I grab for my phone I left on the ledge.

“What’s up?” Kathleen answers on the third ring.

“Nothing much. I’m having a bath.” Knowing she would understand.

“You hate baths.”

“I know, but I thought maybe the jets would make it more interesting,” I confess a little sheepishly. “I’m a little disappointed.”

Kathleen laughs at me. “You haven’t changed one bit. Still can’t sit still long.”

“Whatever. What are you doing anyway?” I hear clanging in the background. She accuses me of not being able to sit still, but she’s no different.

“Emptying the dishwasher.” See? “Damn kids, I grabbed for a glass this morning and the cupboard was empty. Thirty-six damn glasses and not a single one on the shelf. Spent an hour going around the house with a tub, collecting plates and cups and cutlery from every nook and cranny. Jesus, some of the plates looked like science experiments—you don’t even wanna know.”

I stifle a chuckle since she was no different growing up. I clearly remember Kathleen’s bedroom looking like the aftermath of a bomb explosion most of the time. Her own mom used to be forever on her case, trying to get her to clean her room and bring down the dirty dishes.

“I remember—” I barely get the word out before she cuts me off.

“Yeah, yeah. Mom would probably have a good laugh at my expense if she could see me now.”

Kathleen lost her mother fifteen years ago quite suddenly. “Do you still miss her?” I ask, suddenly serious.

“Every day. People say it gets easier, but I think you simply get used to the pain. Do you miss Nicky?”

“Every day,” I echo, trailing my fingers through the disappearing suds. “I can’t wrap my head around how it is possible to be happy, and still hurt so much.”

“Oh, honey…that’s life. That’s adulting. Nothing is ever all good or all bad.”

“He bought me a bed.”

It’s silent on the other side. I try to wait her out, my hand reaching for the edge of the tub, holding on tight. “Kathleen?” I finally prompt.

“Wow. Not wasting any time.”

I can’t quite gauge from her tone whether that’s a good thing or not, so I nervously start rambling. “My bed was lumpy and his bed…well…anyway, I know it sounds fast, but it’s really not when you think about it. Besides, he has plans.”

“I’d say,” she interrupts, but I ignore her.

“He showed me his drawings.”

“I’m sure he did.” This time she chuckles and I take that as a good sign.

“He wants to build a new master suite. When the time is right, of course. Although that might be sooner than we planned now that bitch, Sheila, is probably running off her mouth.”

“Stop,” Kathleen orders and my mouth snaps shut. “I’m having a hard time following. How does Sheila fit into building