“Noticed you changed your wallpaper back. That’s a shame.” He reaches for the serving spoon and saws through the rest of the frittata out of the dish on the stovetop and spoons half of what’s there onto his plate.
My eyes bug out.
Shit. He saw that? I’m mortified.
I covertly changed it at the hospital yesterday, thinking I was silly for doing it in the first place while drunk on Friday night.
Embarrassment stains my cheeks with heat as I answer the phone to my mother, grateful that’ll give me an opportunity to pretend I didn’t hear him.
Fat chance. He’s looking at my pink cheeks with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.
40
Killian
Violet’s expression goes from embarrassed to falling after she answers her phone.
“Oh no. You’re kidding. He’s okay though?”
I head back to my chair and sit, shoveling more food into my mouth. Best frittata I’ve ever eaten. Is that because it’s the best or because of the fact that Violet was in my kitchen making it, flashing those dimples at me, envisioning me grilling on an imaginary barbecue?
Fuck me.
This girl.
She disappears down the hall to her bedroom.
I check my own phone and there are no further updates from Zack Jacobs since his last message that stated Iadanza was released from the drunk tank and went straight back to the apartment to bed.
I look in on Violet in the bedroom via my phone app and she’s pacing with her phone to her ear, talking to her mother about her grandfather.
I exit the app and clear it off my phone, then tap my toe impatiently waiting for an update from her.
Clearly there’s a problem.
A few minutes later, she’s back and she’s no longer on the phone.
“Grampa’s heart is beating too fast. And they’re having trouble with his blood sugar. They’re keeping him in for another day at least. Dinner’s canceled.”
“You want me to take you to the hospital so you can see him?”
She shakes her head. “Mom told me not to come. She’s there with Aunt Sara and they’re just waiting for more news. Grampa is sleeping anyway. She’ll keep me posted with updates.”
I get up and go to her, putting my arms around her.
She jolts briefly but then wraps her arms around me, too. I put my chin on top of her head.
“Sorry, baby. Better he’s there when that happened than back at home, right?”
She nods and then shivers, snuggling into my chest.
I absorb how right this feels, her snuggled into me, for a good minute before walking her over to the couch and sitting down with her, keeping my arm around her and putting my lips to her temple.
“What can I do?” I ask against her skin.
She shakes her head. “Nothing I can think of, but thank you.”
I squeeze her with affection, and she immediately rises, face pink. “I’m gonna just clean up and…”
“Why don’t you let me do that?”
She nods and bites her lip. “I’m gonna go call Suse, then.”
I give her a tight smile and reach out and squeeze her hand. Her eyes widen at that before she disappears back down the hall.
And I grind my teeth, because all I want right now, is to do what feels natural with her, what feels a hundred per cent right with her, but she’s fighting it.
The way she sank into my arms a minute ago, I know she feels how right it is, too.
41
Violet
I’m unable to reach Susanna; I get her voicemail. I send her a text, but ten minutes later she hasn’t answered or even read my text, so drats.
I’m biting my lip, staring out the window, wishing she’d answer so I can try to revive our plans for today and get out of this apartment, away from Killian and his gorgeousness. His strong, comforting embrace. His scent. Those sexy eyes. That voice. Everything that is him.
I don’t wanna be with Mom and Aunt Sara, getting the third degree about Killian, about Ray. I don’t want to be in the same room as Killian unless I have to be, because he keeps looking at me like he wants to fuck me.
And maybe I want him to, so it’s definitely safer to hide out in here all day.
His signature four beat knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts.
“Come in,” I call out, bracing for what might be next.
“I ran you a bubble bath. Thought it might help relax you.” he says, leaning against my doorframe.
He smiles. And it’s disarming.
“That’s incredibly sweet of you,” I say.
And it is. Wow.
“Go enjoy it. I’m gonna head down to the gym.”
“Can I use that gym, too?” I ask. “Later, I mean. Later today?”
I could definitely use time on a treadmill to blank my brain.
And having a place to work out could be very convenient as an escape.
“Use it whenever you want. I’ve found a spare key fob for the door in my desk. I’ll leave it here for you.”
“Thank you. I haven’t worked out since I’ve been here. I could use a good run.”
“Go for it. You wanna skip the bubble bath and come work out with me right now instead?”
“Absolutely not. A hot bath sounds perfect.”
He smiles at me.
“Thank you, Killian,” I say with sincerity.
“My pleasure, Violet,” he replies softly.
I follow him down the hall to his room, feelings flitting around in my chest like a confused moth that has been bit by a flame it got too close to but doesn’t know how to fight the urge to fly right back toward the fire.
Urges. I’m definitely overcome with urges, despite my fear for everything going on and I’m feeling guilty about it, too.
Everything in Killian’s room is tidy. He even makes his own bed on Sundays. That says something about him to me, for some reason. I watch him walk around the column that leads to the nook where his desk is. He returns with a key fob. “I’ll pop this onto the desk in the guest room on my way down.”
“Thank you.”
I slip into the master bathroom.
The lights are off, the blinds down, making it all dark and atmospheric because there are three candles lit on the corner of the tub and bubbles are high up, floating three or four inches above the top of the big soaker tub.
I twist the lock and then peel myself out of my clothes and sink into the hot bubbles with a moan.
42
Killian
The gym in my building has too many fucking people in it. This is why I never use it on Sunday mornings. I should turn my third bedroom into a home gym.
After fifteen minutes of lifting, I abandon the workout because it’s jam-packed and these people aren’t acting like they’re here to work out, more like it’s social hour and they try to pull me into conversations, despite that I’ve only taken one earbud out to reply and quickly put it back in, which most people would take as a hint. These people don’t take that hint.
It doesn’t take long before I’ve had enough and head back upstairs deciding I’ll do some push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups in my room.
When I step in, I see that the bathroom door is still closed. Shit. She’s probably still in the tub.