“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’d ever left work, my focus was shot. I powered down my computer, grabbed my stuff and headed out.
As I made dinner alone 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.
“I’m sorry I got so mad at you,” he said. “I realize I overreacted.”
“It was a shock. I thought you’d be happy, and I wasn’t prepared for that reaction. But I also could’ve handled it better. So, I’m sorry too.”
He took off his hoodie and threw it on the couch. “Do I get to stay for dinner?”
“First you have to apologize for saying I shoved your face in my cunt.”
His brows arched with amusement. “Why? You did. It was fuckin’ hot.”
“You make me sound like a sex-crazed maniac who makes you service her.”
“You’re making me hard, Sid.”
I glared at him. “I’m serious. You want the scallops, you apologize for what you said.”
“It wasn’t an insult!”
“How would you feel if I made a comment about you ramming your cock down my throat?”
“Turned on.”
I rolled my eyes and threw up my hands. “Fine. Forget it.”
He laughed softly and covered the distance between us, wrapping his arms around me.
“Hey, I was teasing.” He tipped my chin up so we were at eye level. “I’m sorry for making you feel like shoving my face in your pussy was anything but amazing. I loved it, Sid. I jerked off in the shower while thinking about it this morning.”
“Okay, you can stay for dinner.”
“Should I ram my cock down your throat so you can make a comment and we’ll be even?”
I couldn’t help smiling. “You’ve got to play a lot of cards right before that’s happening, Captain.”
We headed into the kitchen and he helped me get dinner on the table. We ate a few bites before talking again.
“So I need to tell you something,” he said, setting his fork down. “Something I don’t talk about much.”
“Okay.”
He rubbed both hands over his face and took several sips of wine.
“So I grew up in a small town in Maryland,” he said. “My parents tried for a kid for several years before they had me. And then my dad passed away suddenly before I turned one.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He nodded his acknowledgement. “My mom never remarried. She raised me on her own. And even though money was tight, she always found enough for me to play hockey. I started playing when I was five and I was hooked. She was in the stands for every game I ever played. The day I got my scholarship offer, she cried her eyes out. Said it was the best day of her life.”
He was looking down at his plate as he spoke. I wanted to move closer to him, but I stayed still, wanting to give him my full attention.
“So she moved close to Penn State to be able to attend my college games. And at the start of my senior year, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was advanced, stage four. She fought it, but . . . it was a losing fight. It would’ve been for anyone. She died three months before my graduation.”