The toast pops, so after I’ve set the skillet on the stove, I go in there to butter up, thinking that my original thought of this room being unnecessary is coming in handy right now, allowing me to get out from under the intensity of those eyes.
A few minutes later, I’m serving him my cheese and vegetable frittata and toast.
A minute after that, he’s groaning with delight as he shovels it in.
“This is good,” he says after swallowing. “Really fucking good.”
I smile with pride.
“I was chopping all sorts of vegetables for the salad so figured it was a good dish to make since I was sort of already prepping for it.”
“Lookin’ forward to that salad later, too,” he says before shoveling in the last forkful of food.
My phone rings as I take another bite of toast.
I zip over to the kitchen counter to grab it.
“My mom,” I say.
He’s behind me. Oh. He has his plate in his hand.
“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.