Killian
One look at Caroline, and you can tell she doesn’t belong in the hipster neighborhood of Brooklyn where everyone is trying hard to be someone they’re not while being a carbon copy of fifty other people.
Her whole outfit screams trust fund baby who’s never had to work a day in her life.
Not that it’s true. Last I heard, she was working at our family’s law firm and was doing very well for herself.
She definitely has the tenacity to make it as a lawyer.
Which begs the question, doesn’t she have clients to handle? How can she disappear indefinitely?
I don’t know why I asked her to stay last night, or why I asked her to come with me today. What the hell is she even going to do at the shop? She clearly doesn’t belong there. She belongs to the sect of people who buy my paintings, not those who get tattoos from me.
The only possible reason is I didn’t want to leave her alone. Not after the way she looked at Eve and Lilith. Those two are openly affectionate and there’s no denying how much they love each other. Caroline looked at them with unfiltered longing.
I grew up watching my parents' strained marriage and my mother’s unhappiness which she always ignored because image was more important.
I didn’t want to believe that Caroline willingly signed up for that, but when the wedding card showed up, I had to accept the obvious.
And so did Caroline because she made this choice.
If she wanted love, she could have chosen differently.
I have to keep my distance. Caroline’s life choices don’t concern me, not even if they bring her directly to my door.
She’s a few steps ahead of me and stops walking, turning to look at me over her shoulder. The sun shines brightly, a breeze ruffling her hair as it brings with it the scent of her perfume. Caroline smiles softly, and my heart thuds in my chest, banging against my ribcage.
Fuck.
She can’t stay here. I’ll lose my fucking mind.
“Where am I going?”
Shit, did I say that out loud? But no, she’s just asking for directions.
“Turn right at the end of the street,” I say.
She resumes walking, and I make a plan to call my grandmother and get Caroline out of here. If she wants to stay in New York, fine. Maybe my grandmother has another hidden apartment she can give to Caroline.
“Are you hungry?” I ask her, as we get close to a cafe. The large windows show that it’s not too crowded right now. Not that I have a client any time soon. I needed to get out of the apartment.
Not that it makes a difference since I brought the problem with me.
“Sure. Do you want me to get something for you as well?” Caroline asks, already moving towards the door.
“I can get it,” I say.
She looks me up and down and then back at the cafe. “Really? You’re willingly going to walk into a place that proudly serves lavender oat lattes?”
“I happen to like lavender oat lattes,” I defend, even though I’ve never had one in my life. I stick to espresso. I have nothing against anyone who prefers fancy coffee, I just prefer mine without fuss. But I am pretentious enough to want Brazilian medium roast coffee in a specific blend.
“Really? You seem like the kind of person who only drinks black coffee strong enough to make you see your past life,” Caroline quips.
“No, I only drink sugar with a side of coffee. Sweet enough that my present seems bearable.”
Caroline grins at me. “Perfect! Then we’ll both have the same thing. See, our thoughts are already aligning and we’ve only been roommates for one night.”
She turns around, her ponytail almost hitting me in the face as her hair flies.
I stare after her as she walks into the cafe.
What is she up to? She’s already at the counter and I walk in before she ends up ordering me a cupcake with the latte because it’s what she wants.
I draw the line at eating sugar first thing in the morning. The coffee is going to be bad enough.
The kid behind the counter looks way too eager to help her. He’s leaning over the counter, close enough to touch her as he points at the board displaying the coffee blends.
“What do you recommend?” Caroline asks, her voice sweet as sugar. It’s not a tone she’s ever used with me. Not even when she was younger and sneaking glances at me, blushing red when I looked back at her. Somehow, Gerry and I were the only two people around whom she didn’t have to hide her mess.
“I personally like this blend,” the barista points one out. “It’s got a nuttiness that I think goes really well with the lavender oat latte. But you can also try another blend.”
“Nope, this one works perfectly. If I don’t like it, I’ll know who to blame,” Caroline says.
I narrow my eyes as the barista laughs, his ears turning red. Is she flirting? He’s just a kid, can’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two, not that Caroline is ancient at twenty-seven.
“You can also try matcha,” the kid says.
“I do love a good matcha,” Caroline admits. “Maybe next time you can make it for me.”
The kid’s face turns red. “Uh, yeah, absolutely. I’m Luke, I’m usually working the day shift.”
What’s next? He’s going to ask for her number?
I step up behind Caroline, glaring at Luke as he smiles shyly at her.
His eyes drift to me and his smile slowly drops, replaced by fear.
I’m sure my expression tells him exactly what’s going to happen if he doesn’t take a step back right now.
There’s an entire counter between them, but it’s still too close for me.
Caroline glances up and sees me, smiling brightly. My mind blanks for a second, like someone flashed a bright light into a dark room. Nothing but light, and then it flickers back to darkness when Caroline turns around.
“He’ll have the same thing,” she tells Luke. “I’m also going to have a danish and for him, maybe a bran muffin?”
Luke covers his laugh with cough and as soon as I turn my glare on him, he reddens, turning away to start preparing our drinks. Caroline puts her hands in her pockets as she moves down the counter, reading the menu.
She leans in towards Luke. “Do you enjoy working as a barista?”
What is she doing?
Luke shrugs. “It pays the bills. I’m in art school, and until I make it or get spontaneously discovered by a rich patron who wants to pay me to paint, I might as well get used to making coffee.”
“I don’t know anything about art, but I’m sure you’re great. I’d love to see your work next time if you want to show me,” Caroline replies.
I grind my jaw, completely missing whatever Luke says to her because I’m too busy watching her.
The way she talks to him, how she’s open, and leaning forward slightly, nodding along to whatever he says.
It’s not how she was last night or this morning when talking to me.
And why the hell is she talking to him about art when I’m standing right here?
She laughs at something Luke says, and it makes me irrationally angry. I want to grab her and make her stand outside while I get our coffees so she can’t flirt with him.
The thought is unexpected and absolutely fucking crazy. I have to get away from her before I lose my fucking mind.
Turning, I leave the coffee shop and wait outside. I think back to just yesterday, when I walked this same street with Eve back to our building. Life was simple. Sure, my best friend thought I’m a serial killer, but I wasn’t being driven crazy by the embodiment of sunlight in my apartment.
Caroline steps out, carrying our two coffees, and dessert for breakfast. There’s a small smile on her face as she stops in front of me, handing me my coffee and muffin.
I scowl at her, which doesn’t go unnoticed.
She rolls her eyes. “If you don’t want the coffee, I can get you another one. You can give this one to Eve.”
“What the hell were you doing in there?”
“Uh, getting our coffees?” She looks confused as she looks around, probably trying to figure out if she’s getting pranked.
“Did you also get his number while getting our coffees?” I ask through gritted teeth.
There’s a part of me that knows who she flirts with is none of my business. I need to stop talking. I realize I’ve crossed the line as soon as Caroline’s eyebrows shoot up.
“And if I did? What are you going to do, kick me out again?”
“Are you ever going to let that go?”
“It happened last night,” she says, her voice rising slightly.
We’re once again fighting on a street, and I’m once again the instigator.
Me. The man who avoids people, who just wants to stay in his apartment and paint all day.
And the thing is, if it was anyone else, I wouldn’t be bothered in the least. I wouldn’t care if it was Eve or Lilith flirting with Luke because what happens in their relationship is their responsibility unless I thought a line was being crossed and one or both would end up hurt.
But Caroline? She makes me lose my mind. Always has. Even when we were kids. Even when we grew up. Even when she turned away from me and chose to stay in that toxic hellhole we call our families.
“You’re changing the subject,” I growl.
“What is your problem?” Caroline demands. “So what if I was flirting with him? What’s the big deal? He’s cute.”
“He’s still in college.”
“And what am I? A forty-year-old divorcee?” Her eyes are the same color of clouds right before a big thunderstorm and she’s close enough I can see the gold flecks in them. “Why does this bother you so much?”
“You’re my brother’s fiancée,” I say. It’s the only sensible thing I can think of, and it’s true. I don’t have the right to do anything. I can’t be upset unless I’m upset on his behalf. “What do you think Beckett is going to say if he finds you flirting with another man?”
Her reaction to that question is unexpected. She doesn’t get angry, cry, or ask me to not tell Beckett anything. Instead, she laughs. She’s standing there laughing like I’ve told the most amazing joke which has her gasping for breath.
“That’s a good one,” she says, when she can finally catch her breath. “I really needed that.” Reaching up, she brushes away a tear with the back of her finger. “Anyway, which way to the shop?”
My anger falters in front of her bizarre reaction. All I can do is tell her to continue walking straight. I take a sip of my sweet coffee and I can’t even hate it because it’s exactly what she’s tasting right now. And if that’s not the most fucked up thing, then I don’t know what is.
“What exactly are you up to?”
I’m outside the shop, on the phone with my grandmother. Through the window, I see Caroline and Eve behind the counter. Eve is showing Caroline her artwork and Caroline is looking on with intrigue, her chin resting on her hand.
“What do you mean?” Gran sounds so innocent, and as much as I love my grandmother, that’s the kind of bullshit I can never deal with.
The May afternoon sun beats down on my back and after the harsh winter, it’s exactly what’s needed. The early spring breeze carries with it the scent of yeast and fresh baked bread from the bakery down the street.
“I mean, why the hell did you give this apartment to Caroline and me? And why didn’t you tell her I’m living here?”
I thrust a hand into my hair. I’m growing agitated, which doesn’t happen often when I’m talking to my grandmother. She’s the only one who lets me live my life without constantly reminding me what a huge disappointment I am as the eldest son of the York family.
“I figured she’ll need a place to escape to one day,” Gran says, insouciantly. “I was trying to help the sweet thing.”
I recall the look in Caroline’s eyes before she walked out of the apartment. If anything, it was vicious and wild. The murderous gleam in her eyes when I asked her to come back. The storm when I’d accused her of flirting earlier.
She isn’t sweet, at all.
“You should have told me,” I say through clenched teeth. “Unlike her, I’m actually living here. This is my home, not a vacation spot.”
Gran breathes out a sigh. “You’re right. I should have told you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ambush either of you. I know you won’t believe me, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”
I exhale loudly. I can’t stay angry at her, no matter how hard I try.
“You need to get her out of here. Find her another apartment. She can’t stay with me.”
“She’s only been there one day,” Gran says.
“Which is more than enough,” I counter.
Gran is quiet for a minute. “What’s wrong, really?”
“I can’t have Caroline here. I like my peace.”
“How is she disrupting your peace? Is she really loud?” Gran asks.
Her presence is.
“No, she’s not loud. She’s…” I don’t want to go down this path with my grandmother again because I already know her opinion on this matter. “Doesn’t she have a wedding to prepare for? A wild bachelorette party to throw?”
The silence is loud and longer, ringing down the line. It makes me pause. I look back at Caroline through the window and watch her giggle over something Eve is showing her on her phone. Something about this whole situation is off.
“Gran, is there a wedding?”
Before Gran can reply, my mother interrupts.
I hear her voice in the distance, asking her if Gran is still planning on staying for lunch.
For a second, I think she’s going to ask who Gran is speaking with and I’ll be forced to speak with my mother.
I haven’t talked to her in months, not since she called to confirm if I was coming for the wedding. But her voice fades away quickly.
“I should go before Julia tells the cook to put rat poison in my food,” Gran says. “How are you, darling? Last time we spoke, you were having trouble finding inspiration to paint.”
Why does no one want to talk about this wedding?
“I’m fine,” I answer, even though the subject change frustrates me.
“You’re painting again?”
“Yes.” No.
“That’s good. I’d love to come see your exhibit,” Gran says.
She always says the same thing and she’s never visited. She, more than anyone in my family, understands I don’t want any part of my life mixing with theirs. If she comes, it’s going to be another thing my mother holds against her and me.
Not that there’s going to be an exhibit since I haven’t painted anything to showcase in months.
“I have to go,” I tell her.
“Of course,” she acquiesces. There’s a pause, and then, “Think before you act, darling. I’m sure the answers will come to you.”
With that cryptic message, she hangs up, while I’m still wondering what I’m going to do next.