Killian

All of You

       

Sidney

I'd been staring at the text I'd written to Killian off and on for the last twenty four hours, never working up the nerve to hit send.

Me: Can you come by my place tonight to talk?

I had been about to send it when I stopped. Damn him. He'd thrown a childish fit and stormed out of my office. He was the one who should be texting me.

Just then Nicole walked into my office, a greeting card in her hand.

"Sympathy card for Lenny Marino. He lost his mother a few days ago."

I knitted my brows together and waved her over. "I didn't know that."

"I'm sorry, I should've told you."

"No, I didn't mean it like that. Thanks for picking up the card." I took the pen she held out and scrawled my signature on the card.

"My list is done. What else can I do?" she asked. "The dry cleaning isn't ready yet."

Since I'd dressed her down over her outfit, Killian, and her general laziness, Nicole had been a model employee. I was relieved to finally have a decent assistant.

"Sounds like you're done for the day," I said. "And if you want to go home this weekend, book a flight on my credit card. I don't expect you to stay here every weekend."

"It's fine." She picked up the card, took the pen and left my office.

Did she think I was bothered by her frosty attitude? I wasn't. At all.

But my fight with Killian had been on my mind constantly. I'd tossed and turned for hours in bed last night. No matter how hard I tried to step back and see what I'd done wrong, I couldn't come up with anything.

We needed to talk about it. I grabbed my phone and pressed send. If he didn't respond, I'd know where I stood with him.

My phone dinged with a return text just a few seconds later.

Killian: I'll be there. Is six okay?

I breathed out a sigh of relief and wrote back that it was.

Though it was earlier than I ever left work, my focus was shot. I powered down my computer, grabbed my stuff and headed out.

As I made dinner this time my mood was more somber than it had been the last time I'd known Killian was coming over. Mechanically, I prepared the scallops and the salad, my mind wandering.

Hopefully I wasn't assuming too much by making dinner. I was still mad, and he probably was, too. But I was hungry, dammit, and he didn't have to eat if he didn't want to.

The doorbell rang, and I took a fortifying breath before walking into the foyer to answer it.

I opened the door and looked Killian over. His expression was unreadable.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"That's why I texted you."

"Smartass."

I stepped aside and he came in. When I closed the door, we regarded each other in silence.

"I didn't ask you over here so I could beg for forgiveness," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "But since I made the first move, I'll let you say what you want to say first."

"What's cooking?" He looked toward the kitchen. "It smells really good."

"Scallops."

He nodded and looked down at his feet. After a few seconds, he looked back up and met my eyes.