***
“I like your family,” he says as I open one of the boxes that have been put into his third bedroom. This is the only one not taped up for some reason. It’s one of eight large boxes and two large wardrobe boxes that were dropped off containing my things.
I also know Alana packed for me and I felt a little embarrassed about it because I have no idea what condition my apartment was in and no clue what she thinks of the fact that I appear to have moved in with her boss (even though I really haven’t, not officially).
“I think they like you, too. And you should definitely be prepared for a Thanksgiving dinner invite. If you’d rather not, that’s okay, too.”
He smiles. “Never been much for holiday meals, not since I was a little kid. Do you think they’d be cool with Will coming, too?”
“The more the merrier with my family. I’m glad you don’t seem to mind.”
He shakes his head. “Got a lot to be thankful for. I’ve always been a guy who likes to show gratitude. I’m fortunate.”
“You also work hard. That’s why you’re fortunate,” I point out, lifting out a brown envelope and feeling relief that I found this. Boudoir photos I had done for Ray for our first Valentine’s Day together. I’m glad to know where they are. There’s no nudity but they are definitely risqué enough that I don’t want them just floating around. I wonder where they were? I didn’t see them when I packed his stuff up.
Heat climbs up my face as I tuck the envelope into the back of another photo album and turn to Killian. His eyes are on the envelope.
“What’s that?”
“Just some pictures,” I shrug.
“Lemme see.”
“You don’t wanna see those,” I say.
He grabs my hand. “I’ve already seen them.”
I jerk back. “You have?”
He nods. “When I went into the apartment and got the chopsticks. They were on the coffee table, so I guess he was lookin’ at them. I recognize the envelope. If it’s the same envelope.”
“Pictures of me in lingerie?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says without inflection. “And nudes.”
“They’re here?” I look into the envelope again. What a relief. The stack of Polaroids are in the bottom. I dig in and see all five pictures are there. “Oh thank God for that.”
He growls. And it makes the hairs prickle on the back of my neck.
“I don’t exactly want these floating around. Oh my God, I hope Alana didn’t see them.”
“I have a confession,” he says.
I look at his face.
“I saw them when I picked up the chopsticks. I put them aside then. Popped them into this box yesterday.”
I’m dumbfounded by this news. But also grateful. I’m glad Ray no longer has these. Killian gently takes the envelope out of my hand and flips through the boudoir photos. I look over them with him.
My hair was a bit shorter, my face was three years younger, and I probably weighed ten or fifteen pounds more than I do now so my cheeks and hips show it, but I was full of confidence.
“Beautiful,” he says. “Even if they were for him.”
“Back when I thought he was who he claimed to be,” I say.
“I’m gonna burn these,” I say, nabbing the Polaroids. “Right now. Got a lighter?”
“In the kitchen.”
He follows me and watches me burn them in his kitchen sink. Watching my face (and other body parts) melt isn’t a whole lot of fun, but I’m relieved these are now gone. After I turn the water on to douse the flames and rinse the ash out of the sink, I turn to him.
“Why’d you leave that night he and I met? You were gone the minute he approached me.”
He sifts his fingers through my hair and studies my face for a moment, not letting go of me with the other arm.
“I wish I’d had the chance to talk to you. Maybe I would’ve exchanged numbers with you instead,” I say.
He touches my face, and his eyes… they’re almost haunted.
He hasn’t said anything so I say, “I noticed you guys standing there and I was hoping you were the one who would buy me a drink or ask me to dance.”
“I had no choice,” Killian says, gravely. “Couldn’t watch him come onto you.”
“Why?” I ask, tilting my head curiously.
He continues to look at me without speaking.
Finally I prompt him with a jiggling of both of his shoulders. “What happened? Did something happen that night?”
“I broke my rule,” he says, his expression dire.
“What rule?”
“I took a bet.”
I frown.
He lets go of me and backs up. Then he heaves out a heavy breath and looks at me with an expression. A remorseful one. He swallows hard.
“I had my eye on you. He and I are havin’ drinks with a couple guys from the old neighborhood. It was a bit of a reunion, one of our buddies called everyone to go out and celebrate, found out his girl was pregnant with twins. Most of the guys were headin’ out to a strip joint after that club. A couple of us took a pass. Raymond and I wound up in conversation and he saw me watchin’ you dance. He made some remarks, I laughed it off, and then he wanted to flip a coin and see who got to make the approach.”
My eyes bulge.
“I never take bets, Violet. It’s not my style. I make my living knowing people have a fifty percent chance of losing, often not even that good. But I fucked up.”
“You… took a bet?”
“I gave him the right body language that made him flip the coin. I don’t know how the fuck it happened, it was just the night I guess, everyone laughin’. Drinkin’. Hadn’t seen Iadanza in a couple years and got caught up with everything but then it was over. He won the toss and then he was headin’ in your direction with a smug fuckin’ look on his face and I couldn’t watch. Couldn’t watch because I felt something when I saw you that night, like I told you before, hit me right in the fuckin’ chest. And then I realized how much I’d fucked up, but he’d already flipped it and he was headin’ for you.”
Killian swallows and pulls his lips tight.
My jaw has dropped.
After a beat, he continues. “Saw him a month later and couldn’t believe the shit comin’ out of his mouth about how you were it, how he struck gold with you and was gonna put a ring on your finger. Fucker tried to bet me right there on that, lookin’ to get a payout if he got you down the aisle, and I wasn’t about to get bit twice.”
I shake my head. “A coin toss. Wow.”
“You pissed at me?”
Killian’s eyes look haunted. He looks afraid that I’m going to be upset.
“Because I’m pissed at me,” he adds.
I put my hand to his cheek and rub. “Of course not. You didn’t know me. I’m just sort of sad that you took that bet.”
“Me too, baby. Fuckin’ believe me. More than sort of. That’s why when I ran into him last month and he said you were still together, I had to see for myself, had to see if I was wrong about that feeling I had with you because I really couldn’t wrap my head around you still being with him because I knew, growin’ up in the same shitty complex as that guy what he was all about. Honestly, I was hoping I’d see you and realize you were a loser too.”