Caroline
I have thirty missed calls and about twice as many messages and emails.
Apparently, I’m insulting Beckett and the Yorks.
Do I realize how embarrassing it is for them that I’ve left without a word, months before our wedding?
Do I realize how lucky I am that he wants to marry me after everything I did?
I’m not going to find anyone as forgiving as him.
He’s right about that last one. I’m definitely not going to find another man who loves his reputation so much that he won’t publicly admit to being stabbed by his fiancée in the ass because she caught him fucking his assistant in his office. I truly was so lucky.
My mother is texting me like everything is fine and I’m just taking a short trip because all her messages focus on the wedding.
The only person behaving somewhat normally in my messages is my brother, Carter.
Carter
Mom is losing her mind. Dad is pretending that everything is fine but he broke a cup yesterday.
Will you be back in time to handle the Matheson case or should I assign it permanently to someone else?
Did you really stab Beckett in the ass?
Can you please tell me you’re okay?
The last message stares back at me as I sit at the front counter of Black Ember Ink. It’s quiet except for the people waiting for Eve and Killian to finish with their current clients. Behind me, I can hear the whir of the tattoo gun.
I briefly wonder if I should message Carter and tell him I’m in a tattoo shop with no further explanation.
Will he tell our parents? Of course, he will.
Carter and I used to be close when we were younger.
There was a time he used to protect me from our parents, especially our mother.
She always listened to him so he could sweet talk into letting me stay at home, into not putting me in suffocating dresses.
Then he went to college and suddenly, he wasn’t the brother I knew anymore.
He was just a reflection of our parents, cold and distant.
So, I don’t message him back. I don’t tell him I’m okay. I know he’s not asking because he’s worried. He’s only asking so he can talk me into coming back for our parents. As far as they’re concerned, Carter is the least threatening person they can use against me.
Turning off my phone, I slide it back into my pocket just as the sounds change in the back.
Killian walks out with his client who thanks him and wraps one arm around him in a hug while the other remains tucked between their bodies.
Killian doesn’t return the hug. His body remains stiff, all six foot four of him standing there like a pole.
I have this unexplained urge to get up and pull her away from him. But unlike Killian, I can control my insane thoughts, so the only thing I do is look away. Who he hugs or doesn’t isn’t any of my business.
From the corner of my eye, I watch her detach herself and move towards the door. Killian turns to his next client, who is also a woman. We’ve been here for six hours and all his clients have been women. According to Eve, that’s just how things are.
It makes me realize I need to leave the apartment. Because eventually a woman is going to find her way back there with him. I can’t stand the thought of Killian with someone else under the same roof as me.
Killian starts to lead his client back as I return to my ereader. I’ve gotten to meet some interesting people, but I don’t understand why he wanted me here in the first place.
Just as I reach for the fries sitting on the stool beside me, Killian stops and turns to me. I look up, a fry halfway to my mouth.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I answer, a little confused by his question.
His eyes drop to the fries beside me. “Hungry?”
Okay, admittedly, the fries are hours old and cold, but they still taste good.
“Don’t judge,” I say. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a carb?”
“You know you can order more fries,” he says.
“I want these fries,” I reply stubbornly.
His mouth does this weird twitch thing that I think is his attempt at a smile. But he doesn’t actually smile. There’s no amusement in his eyes, either. Only grimness. He must really hate me eating these cold fries.
“This is my last client, and then we can go,” he says. “We need to talk.”
His eyes stay locked with mine for a moment before he nods and walks away. I drop the fry back into the paper basket. My stomach suddenly feels full and I can’t stand the thought of having to swallow something.
I know he spoke with Gerry earlier so I can only assume he’s kicking me out again. I should tell him I’m leaving before he has the chance. Though, even after one night, I know I’m going to miss that view.
I’m helping Eve close the shop when Killian comes out with his last client.
Eve and I are behind the counter as she works on the laptop, looking after the accounting stuff.
Running a business is fascinating. According to her, Killian does most of this stuff at the end of the week and I somehow have a hard time picturing him chasing after numbers.
Not because he’s not smart! The man graduated top of his class from an Ivy League law school and left it all to be an artist and somehow makes the same amount of money he would have as a lawyer. It’s only that, I always think of him painting, and not doing accounting.
Eve looks at him over her shoulder. “I was double booked today because someone forgot to add a client to my schedule after confirming them.”
“We already fired her, Eve,” Killian says.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not salty about her trash talking me,” Eve mumbles.
“What do you suggest I do now?”
“Can’t we hire someone who actually wants to do the job?” Eve asks. She closes the laptop and turns her kohl-lined eyes to Killian.
“How about Luke?” I suggest. “He’s an artist, I’m sure he’d love to work here.”
Killian looks at me like I suggested he sacrifice his beloved pet. “No!”
His voice is harsh, ringing with finality.
“The barista from Beanie’s?” Eve clarifies.
“That’s him,” I confirm.
“I said no,” Killian says through gritted teeth. I swallow my irritation, looking away from him. I don’t know why he’s behaving this way. Granted, I don’t know Luke or his work ethic, but that’s why you have internships, trainings, and a probationary period.
Eve looks between the two of us as an awkward silence descends.
“Well,” she says. “I’m done here, so I should go. Lil is waiting for me.”
She grabs her purse from under the counter and her jacket from the coat hanger on her way out. Killian and I stand in silence, the lights dim around us. I cross my arms, looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain himself.
“That was incredibly rude,” I say.
“You don’t even know Luke,” he counters.
“Do you?”
“No, which is why I’m not randomly offering him a job.”
I stay quiet because I know he’s right. I’m not entirely wrong, but I don’t know why I’m butting into his business. It’s like a part of me wants to argue with him over stupid things and that’s not like me at all. If anything, I’ve learned to keep my emotions locked away.
“You said you wanted to talk?” I ask.
Killian frowns and for a second, I think he’s disappointed I backed off so easily. Crazy, I know. My mind wants to give him emotions which probably aren’t there.
“Are you hungry?” He asks.
I want to deny and refuse to eat with him out of principle.
I don’t, though, because I actually am hungry.
I nod, grabbing my purse and pulling on my sweater.
I shiver as we step out of the shop after Killian has locked up and turned on the security alarm.
There’s a chill in the air now that the sun is starting to set.
The sky is painted a rainbow of pinks and oranges in the distance.
Somewhere nearby, a bar is playing incredibly loud music. I hear laughter and shouts, footsteps running on the sidewalk. It makes me realize how far I am from home. According to my parents and Beckett, anything less than five stars or a Michelin was seedy.
“Come on,” Killian says.
He leads me in the opposite direction of where we came from this morning. Everything around us is gray. The pinks and violets of flowers blooming in window boxes and planters add some much-needed color. They stand out against the dullness of the concrete.
I’m looking everywhere as we walk, my head constantly spinning around, observing everything around me. I want to be able to come back here on my own.
Killian leads me to a bar on a street corner, its once vibrant red logo now faded. The red awning over the door looks new, there are lots of people dining on the patio, lost in their conversations.
There are stairs leading up to the door and Killian opens it, ushering me inside. It’s crowded, music playing softly on the speakers, some sports playing on the TVs above the bar. The hostess leads us to a table in the back, which thankfully is next to a window looking out onto the street.
I hate sitting in the middle of a restaurant. I feel like everyone is watching me.
“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess says. “Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?”
I look at Killian and he glances back at me, waiting for me to order something. I stare at him blankly, in a mild panic. I’ve never ordered at a restaurant before.
“We’ll start with water,” Killian tells her.
She nods and leaves.
“Thanks,” I mumble, my face heating slightly. It’s embarrassing to never have ordered for myself before. My mother always ordered for me, and then Beckett took over after we got engaged. My opinion mattered very little.
“What do you want to eat?” Killian asks. He’s looking at the menu. Though, why do I suspect he’s not actually reading it?
I pick up my menu and look over it. There are a lot of delicious options, and I suddenly want to order everything.