Page 64 of Star-Crossed
Marty thumbed condensation away from the bottom of his glass. “She’s been through a lot, son.”
“I’m aware,” Cy ground out.
“Seems like your time with a lot of your recent lady friends has been pretty short-lived.”
“I guess.” If he wasn’t careful, Cy was in danger of pulverizing his molars.
“Woman like Lyra McKendrick is the kind worth maybe slowing things down for, don’t you think?”
Oh, the rich fucking irony.
“Sure does.”
“Giving any thought to it?”
In fact, Cy had given it a lot of thought. Had given it just abouteverydamn thought, if he was being honest with himself.
But what aboutLyra’sthoughts?
The deluge he’d been trying to stave off all morning swept over him in a merciless blast.
Whatexactlyhad she been thinking as she sat across the table from him, deciding how she wanted to tell him that she intended to keep her options open? How long had she spent choosing her words? Crafting her argument?
Because he had no doubt she had. Like the lawyer she’d been sure to remind him that she was, she had made her case. And Cy would be damned before he’d make a plea.
“I’m not really in a great place to start anything right now, Dad.” He took another sip of his lemonade and instantly regretted it. The acid felt like it corroded rather than lubricated his vocal cords. “With all the work I’ve got on my plate—”
“How’s that going, by the way?” Kiki swept over to them, one of their mother’s favorite bowls carefully cradled in her hands.
“Good,” Cy said, immeasurably grateful for the change in topics. “Got more work than we know what to do with.”
“Just remember, if you need any advice or want to run anything by me, I’m always here.” The picnic bench creaked as Marty swung his leg over it.
“Appreciate it, but I’ve got things under control,” Cy said, hoping to put an end to the conversation. He knew his father had trouble letting go of the business he’d built from scratch, but Cy was determined to prove he could at least handle this without requiring a whole damn village of reinforcements.
“So, you’ve got enough manpower for the jobs next week?” His father’s voice ripped through Cy’s focus like a chainsaw through bark. “Moving that ash is going to be a hell of a lot of work. There are bound to be a few unpleasant surprises once you get below ground.”
“Not when you have a 3D model of the roots,” Cy pointed out.
“Speaking of the tree,” Kiki interrupted in an obvious bid to defuse the mounting tension, “I’ve gotten a slew of complaints about the safety barriers you have up around the yard. Seems certain residents feel they’re ‘unsightly.’”
Unsightly.
A Caryn Townsend word if ever there was one.
“Do you have any kind of ETA when those will be coming down so I can tell Caryn when she’ll be able to extract her panties from her ass?”
“Couple weeks,” Cy said. “But I can tell her myself. I’ve got a major job to do up at the Townsend Manse grounds this week too.”
“Two major jobs in one week?” their father asked. “You’resureyou don’t want to call in someone to help?”
And all at once, something clicked.
“You know, Dad,” Cy said, fixing a contemplative look on his sweat-stiffened face, “I think you may be right.”
Marty’s pleased expression only served to make Cy feel like more of an asshat.
“Yeah?”
