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“That’s very grown up of her,” I tease. When he doesn’t smile, I more seriously add, “And how did that go?”

“Well . . .” he says, glancing out over the water and scrubbing his hand across the back of his head. “She said you and I have unresolved issues we need to work out in order for me to become more emotionally available.”

I bite back the laugh that begs to come out. “And do we?”

He blinks.

“Have unresolved issues that are keeping you from being emotionally available?”

“Do we?” he asks.

It’s a simple question but the way he spins it on me sends me back to the barstool where I was all but ready to rip my clothes off as our dates stood right next to us.

My neck heats.

I swallow.

Force a smirk.

And lie.

“I’m resolved.”

He looks at me so long I wonder if he’s trying to count my eyelashes.

“So,” he finally says, putting his hands on his hips and peering around me into the house. “What’s your plan here other than beating the hell out of the countertops to the tune of ‘Scar Tissue’? You hire a contractor?”

“I’m doing it myself.”

He laughs, incredulous. “You?”

“Yes, Ford.Me. In case you didn’t notice while you were palling around with my idiot brother and sneaking out with me to get naked on back roads, I didn’t exactly grow up having things done for me. I’ve been on my own a long time, I can figure it out. I have a toolbox with tools.” His amused expression almost makes me smile. “Plus, I’m trying to save money since I’m selling it. God knows Vince wants his full commission check.” He regards me for what feels like a full minute. “More important,” I add, “breaking shit’s cathartic.”

He smiles fully, white teeth and perfectly curved lips making his face more attractive. “I would say if anyone can do it, it’s you, Scotty.”

“Careful, Ford, that sounds like a compliment.”

“Might be.”

I hate every inch of myself that still feels like that naïve teenager that got swept up in make-believe twenty plus years ago.

“You know Wren was coming here?”

He nods. “I wasn’t sure if you’d met, but then figured you had when you described the girl feeding Molly.”

“She told me about the weed.” I squint at the water, the late afternoon sun making it blindingly bright.

“And?”

“And she said it wasn’t hers; I believe her. I also said I agreed with her overbearing dad. Too bad I didn’t know it was you, would have told her about the time we got stoned and naked under the bleachers after your game.”

He drops his head back with a booming laugh, scrubbing a hand across his hair to make the longer strands on top stick up on end. “Damn. That was another lifetime. Parenting is hard. Hell, life is hard.”

I have so many things I could say back, but instead: “Yeah.”

Molly trots across the yard and a pontoon boat cruises by with Jimmy Buffett music blasting.

“Birds were hungry.” Ford eyes the nearly empty feeders.