Caroline
I jerk when Killian drapes his coat over my shoulders. Somehow, I’m a block away from the Met and I’m not sure how long I’ve been standing here. It couldn’t have been more than a minute because Killian’s not about to let me walk around the city while he’s with me.
It’s interesting, when he’s not with me, he trusts that I’m capable enough to look after myself. When he’s with me, it’s almost like he expects that I rely on him entirely because I shouldn’t have to worry about my safety when he’s there to protect me.
“I’m sorry I left,” I say, watching the traffic. We should move. We’re literally standing on the sidewalk on Fifth Ave and we’re getting strange looks from people blocking the pedestrians.
“Seeing Rebecca was a shock,” Killian says.
I nod, not looking up at him. “Do you remember her?”
“Vaguely.”
“Her last name is Perry. Her family is the firm’s biggest client.”
I finally look at him. He’s watching me with a blank expression.
“We’ve been gone for about two minutes so I’m sure everyone knows by now.”
Killian blinks once. “You don’t want them to know.”
“I didn’t say that,” I say. I’m feeling antsy so I start walking, crossing the street with the flow of traffic.
“What do you want me to infer from that?” Killian asks. He’s keeping pace with me easily.
There’s something about this city at night that’s so invigorating and it fucking sucks that I can’t enjoy it or my post coital glow.
“I wanted to tell them myself instead of making it some sick, salacious gossip,” I say.
“You think that would have made a difference? That they would understand if it came from you?”
I glare at him. “Why are you fighting me?”
“I’m not, I’m just trying to understand your point of view,” Killian defends, his eyes flashing in anger. “Because I fucking love you, and first you panic at the thought of marrying me and now you’re freaking out about our families finding out. I don’t know what the problem is.”
His words are like cold water thrown in my face. In a good way. Because they ground me and ease the panic in my chest.
“Of all the things I feel guilty about, loving you isn’t one of them,” I say. “Loving you is the best part of being free. It makes me feel more like myself than anything else ever can. I don’t know who I am if I’m not loving you.”
Maybe we really are chaotic because why else would we confess our love in the middle of Fifth Ave like we’re in a movie?
Killian steps forward, his eyes soft as he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “Remember that day on the ferry you asked me what my ex-girlfriend found.”
I nod. “I hope you’re really going somewhere bringing your ex-girlfriend in the middle of our love confession.”
His mouth tilts up into a small smile. “She found you, Caroline.”
“What do you mean?”
Killian sighs. “I mean, she found paintings of you that I’ve done over the years.
I always thought you must have been mine in some past life and in this one, I’m forced to bring you to life in paint while I watch the real life version of you be with someone else.
When I came to you five years ago and asked you to leave with me, it was right after she found the paintings. ”
“Killian,” I breathe out. I grip his wrist where he’s cupping my cheek.
“You’re the most beautiful part of my life and I’ve always been told I can’t have you because I’m not good enough,” he whispers. “When you refused to come with me, I believed you thought the same thing.”
I grab his shirt, pulling him close as I tilt my head back to kiss him.
“Killian, I was scared. Scared of leaving and scared of how much I wanted you. I didn’t realize until now that I was basically injecting myself with a slow poison by staying there. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”
I pull back to meet his eyes. “For the record, I’m not scared of marrying you. I’m scared of marriage altogether. I need some time before I stop associating it with everything our families wanted my life to be.”
Killian’s hand slips to the back of my neck as he leans down to kiss me.
“For the record, I’m not going to propose.”
He turns us around so we’re walking back the way we came, back to the Met.
“What are we going to do?” I ask, looking up at him.
“We won’t have to do anything. They’ll come here when they’ve had the time to digest the information,” he says.
“And that’s a good thing?”
His eyes cut to mine. “It means you won’t have to go back to California where they can emotionally manipulate you into agreeing to whatever they want.”
I open my mouth to argue and Killian presses his thumb on my lips.
“I’m not saying you’re easily manipulated,” he says softly. “I’m just saying that they will try everything in their power to make you feel guilty for living your life and to make them feel better and ease your guilt, you’ll be more likely to agree with them. They know how to play with people.”
Back outside the Met, he gives his ticket to the valet to get the car.
“So we just wait for them to show up and until then, we pretend our lives aren’t being used for gossip fodder?” I ask.
“When were our lives not part of the gossip cycle?” Killian asks.
This is true. I still feel this restlessness in my chest, which has replaced the guilt and anxiety. Now that I know the band aid is about to be ripped off, I want it done and over with so I can be free.
“Will you show me all the paintings you did of me?” I ask, resting my chin on his shoulder. In my heels, I can just about reach that far.
“If you want to see them,” he says.
“I can’t believe you have a soft ooey-gooey center inside this grumpy exterior.” I smile at him which quickly turns into a laugh when he glares at me.
When the valet comes back, Killian takes the keys from him and we drive back home. The whole while, I can’t stop looking at him, the way he easily maneuvers the car through traffic, the way he still hasn’t let go of my hand. The light flashing across his face every so often.
He glances at me and smiles, soft and confident and my heart feels like it’s going to burst. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, or the day after. I do know that, tonight, the man I love told me he loves me back, and that’s all I want to remember.
Killian is right. Our families are master manipulators because they leave us hanging for three days before I receive a text from Carter telling me they’re at The Plaza and want to see me.
“Do you think all of them are here?” I ask. I show the message to Killian who’s lying in bed beside me. He looks up from his sketchbook and at the text message.
“Of course they are,” he says with a scoff. “When I had Bronchitis, Gran took me to the hospital because my parents were too busy. This is more important than that.”
“When I twisted my ankle falling down from the bicycle, my parents didn’t find out until three days later,” I say.
Killian smirks at me. “When I jumped off the second floor balcony and cracked my head open, my parents were in Aspen and told our driver that if I was old enough to think I can fly then I’m old enough to be left alone in the hospital. I was ten.”
“We should sue our parents for negligence,” I say.
“Why do you think I went no contact?” Setting his sketchbook aside, he slides under the covers and turns to face me.
“When should we go see them?”
“Tomorrow? After work?” I chew the inside of my lip. “I want to get this over with.”
Killian brushes strands of hair off my face. “I love you.”
I can’t stop my grin. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing that.”
“I’m never going to get tired of saying it.”
He turns onto his back and I move closer, resting my head on his shoulder as he wraps an arm around me. I trace the outline of the butterfly on his chest.
“What’s this?” I ask, tracing the date on the side of his rib.
Killian’s lips brush against the top of my head. “That’s the first time I made you laugh.”
I move my head back to look at him. “What?”
He looks back at me with shimmering blue eyes.
“You were always such a serious child around people. When you were on your own, you had so much fun, running around, playing in the garden at the club,” he says.
“You used to watch me, but if I tried talking to you, you’d turn red and run away. Until this day, when I slipped on mud and fell directly into the fountain. You were what, nineteen? It took nineteen years for me to hear you laugh for the first time.”
I push up onto my elbow, looking at the date on his rib.
He tattooed the date when he first heard me laugh onto his body.
“Killian, I—” I choke because I’m not sure what to say. What can I possibly say that will put words to this mountainous feeling inside my chest?
I don’t say anything. Instead, I kiss him, and I pour all my feelings into that kiss because I love you somehow doesn’t feel enough right now.
The kiss is soft at first, just brief touches of our lips. As we continue, it grows more heated, as it always does with us. Killian flips me onto my back as he settles between my spread thighs. The kiss grows more frantic and needy, tongues tangling together, hands all over our bodies.
Killian’s hands push under my shirt and we break the kiss only for a second for him to pull it over my head. His heated eyes land on my heaving chest as he cups a hand over one breast.
“Each time I see you like this, I’m stunned by your beauty,” he says. “I’ll never get enough of you.”
His mouth wraps around the tip of my breast and I groan, my hips jerking upwards. Squeezing my tits together, he licks one tip then the other, sucking and biting until they’re so sensitive. As he tweaks one between his thumb and forefinger and sucks the other, I come with a sharp cry.
Killian smiles against my skin, kissing up my neck to my lips.
“I love when you come from your tits being played with.”
I open my eyes and look at him, hovering over me. “I love everything you do to me.”
Kissing his way down my body, he removes my panties and then his mouth is on me, while his hands play with my tits. I grip the back of his head as he peeks up at me.