Chapter 6 （Killian）
Killian
I stand in my suddenly quiet apartment, hands on my hips, breathing hard like I’ve run miles. Fuck! Fucking fuck!
I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose, but the only thing I see when I close my eyes is Caroline’s teary eyes, the sharpness of her voice when she said my name, the stiffness of her back as she walked out the door.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m walking towards the door and running down the hall. I jam my finger into the elevator button, pressing again and again but it doesn’t open. Switching gears, I rush to the emergency stairwell door and run downstairs, exiting at the side of the building.
The world looks a lot different now than it did this morning when I exited through this same door.
Maybe I stepped into a parallel universe, and all this is happening to another Killian.
I have no time to ponder the complexities of the universe as I round the corner and breathe out when I see Caroline standing at the stoop looking at her phone.
Night is slowly darkening the sky and down the street, I can hear loud music playing at the bar. One of my neighbors must have their windows open because I can hear the soft sounds of screaming coming from above, not the fun kind of screaming.
I stop next to Caroline, and she must sense someone standing beside her because she looks up quickly, her face set in anger which just intensifies when she sees me.
“Did you come here to make sure I actually leave?”
“You don’t have to go,” I say.
Caroline makes a face like I’ve just told her the filthiest joke and she’s utterly disgusted.
“Killian, please leave me alone. I’ve heard enough from you,” she says.
I exhale sharply and step aside when a couple walks by with their dog. They side eye Caroline and me, probably thinking this is the end of a relationship. I’m acutely aware that we can’t continue having this conversation here.
“Look, I was obviously surprised to see you here and I reacted badly. Why don’t we go upstairs and talk? If you still want to leave after that, I’ll drop you off at the hotel myself.”
Caroline looks at me blankly, clearly not impressed by my apology. She looks down when her phone buzzes.
“My ride is going to be here in three minutes,” she says.
I have three minutes to convince her to stay. Don’t ask me why I want her to stay now when ten minutes ago I was so eager for her to leave. Caroline is not my family, no matter how hard they try to tell me that she is. No matter how long or how much I stare at that wedding card.
“I’m sorry for yelling and for kicking you out,” I add.
All she does is blink up at me, those haunting gray eyes utterly unreadable. What does she want from me?
“Killian, what makes you think that weak ass apology is going to be enough for me to consider forgiving you?”
I can’t help it and I know it’s probably going to anger her more, but I laugh.
Not a full on belly laugh, more like a dry chuckle.
Because our families actually think Caroline belongs in that stuffy world where she can’t talk back and has to accept their ways of things when she’s an expert in talking back.
Caroline raises an eyebrow, unamused by my laughter. “Did I say something funny?”
“You don’t have to forgive me, you just have to come upstairs.”
A car rolls to a stop in front of us. I’m guessing it’s her ride share but Caroline ignores it, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“And if I say no?”
The driver rolls down the window and leans across the passenger seat. “Are you Caroline?”
Caroline and I both ignore him as I lean in towards her. She pulls back slightly, her breath stuttering.
“Then it really depends on how loud you scream because you can either come on your own or I carry you back.”
Her mouth parts in shock, eyes widening slightly and I think I want to paint her just like this, when she’s surprised by something I said. I also want to paint her when she’s angry, when she’s happy, when she’s frustrated. The Many Moods of Caroline Sinclaire.
“You can’t be serious,” she breathes.
“Try me.”
I can’t let her leave. If I do, my grandmother will never forgive me, and that’s the excuse I’m sticking with.
“If you’re not leaving, can you cancel the ride?”
Caroline’s phone is still in her hand and I take it from her, pressing the button to cancel the ride. As soon as the driver receives the notification, he drives off.
“You just cancelled my ride without my permission!” Caroline exclaims.
“If you call another one, I’ll do it again,” I tell her.
Dropping her phone into the side pocket of her bag, I grab the handle of her suitcase and drag it behind me to the front door of the building. Caroline has no option other than to follow behind me.
“Do you have some kind of chemical imbalance? Tell me now before I go up because I don’t want to risk my life.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” I say.
“You say that now but you also told me to leave. Very rudely, I might add.”
I call the elevator and turn to look at her. She’s got her heavy tote bag slung over her shoulder and without thinking, I reach for it, easing her burden.
Caroline looks surprised for a second, her body stiffening as my fingers brush against her shoulder. Slowly, I lift the strap of the bag and ease it down her arm, so she’s left only carrying her purse.
We step into the elevator and she presses herself against the corner, her suitcase between us. Her eyes remain trained on the display, watching the numbers as the elevator rises.
“I did apologize,” I say.
She watches me throw narrowed eyes. “How magnanimous of you to apologize for being an utter ass.”
The apartment somehow looks different than it did just thirty minutes ago. Maybe because I’m not in defensive mode, trying to protect my peace.
“Well, what do you want to say?” Caroline demands. I leave her things by the entrance, giving her the option to leave if she still wants.
“Are you hungry?” I open the top drawer of the kitchen counter, which is stuffed with takeout menus from my favorite places. While I prefer to cook, sometimes I forget to buy groceries or even eat when I am locked in my studio, so I keep these menus on hand for midnight hunger pangs.
“Killian,” she says my name like an admonishment.
“Why can’t we talk and eat?” I push the menus across the island to her. Sighing, Caroline picks the top menu for a Mexican restaurant and hands it to me.
“You can order whatever, I’m not picky,” she says.
It’s not the first time I’ve heard her say it and I still wonder if it’s true or if she’s been taught that her choices don’t matter. I pick food I think she’ll enjoy and place an order.
“How long are you planning on staying in New York?” I ask.
“I haven’t decided yet,” she replies. She takes a seat at one of the bar stools, her back straight, arms crossed. She’s forcing herself not to relax.
Her answer makes me curious. She’s getting married in a couple of months. Shouldn’t she be busy with last minute wedding prep instead of being in New York indefinitely?
“You’ll go back in time for the wedding?” I ask.
Her eyes shift to the fridge and I suspect she’s looking at her wedding card. But she doesn’t answer me.
“Do you have something to drink? The flight completely dehydrated me.”
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and pass it to her. She must have been thirsty because she finishes half the bottle in one gulp.
“Do you want a snack?” I try to remember if I have anything she can snack on other than protein bars.
“Would you really have carried me up here?” Caroline asks.
I shrug. “Yeah. Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?”
It’s gotten dark outside now, the only light on in the apartment is the one above the kitchen island.
The windows provide plenty of light from outside and across the East River, Manhattan is glowing.
I leave my spot in the kitchen to turn on the lamps to give some extra lighting and also give myself space.
“Then why did you kick me out?”
“What would you do if you came home one day and found a random person in your home?” I turn to her, seeing her bathed in the warm light of the room. She looks comfortable, but at the same time like she doesn’t belong here. Like a mirage that is going to disappear as soon as I blink.
“I’m not a random person!” She exclaims. “You literally went to school with my brother. Our families own a law firm together.”
Funny how she doesn’t mention she’s engaged to my brother. When you think about it, that’s the biggest reason we’re connected. I’m going to be her brother-in-law. The thought is so vile I look away before she can see it on my face.
“Why are we blaming each other when the real culprit is Gran?” I say. “She’s the one who gave this apartment to both of us and neglected to tell either one.”
“Fine, we can call her tomorrow and find out,” Caroline agrees.
I’m pretty sure I already know what her answer is going to be. She’s never made it a secret that Caroline is her favorite, even more than me and Beckett. It’s not something which has ever bothered me. Caroline’s grandparents live in Georgia, so she always saw Gran as her own grandmother.
With nothing to say, we fall into an awkward silence.
Caroline turns to look out the window and I catch myself watching her profile, her slender neck, the arch of her chin, her small nose.
What is about this woman that makes me behave so unlike myself?
My life was a linear line until she showed up here unexpectedly and threw me into chaos.
I can’t quantify her presence in my apartment and I can’t figure out my emotions.
“I can feel you staring,” Caroline says.
“I’m just trying to figure out what you’re doing here,” I say.
She turns her head to look at me. “You cancelled my ride and grabbed my luggage, dragging me back here. Unless you mean why I’m here in the universe, and honestly, I don’t have the answer for that one.”
“I wasn’t being quite so existential,” I explain. “And I didn’t mean here in the apartment. I meant, what are you doing in New York?”
This time, she’s saved from answering when the intercom buzzes, announcing the arrival of our dinner.
I accept the food and put the bags on the table. Caroline joins me on the couch and I hand her the remote for the TV. I don’t broach the subject of her being here again and she doesn’t talk either. Instead, we let the sounds of the TV fill the silence between us.