Chapter 7
?
Nvm. I’m doing a less-than-great job…
Clara
Beaming, I put my eleventh little bunny sticker on myYay, I haven’t been assaulted yet!calendar, which I keep securely under the mattress in my very own bedroom—ever since I graduated from the guest bedroom. The furniture Lukas ordered when we went shopping came in last Monday, so he helped me move everything from the guest room to the room beside his.
Most nights, he plays piano, and the notes drift through the wall we share, lulling me to sleep after I plan the next day’s meals. I’m living perpetually on an edge, overlooking waves that crash upon sheer stone spikes…but up here on the cliff? It’s beautiful. The scent of sea air consumes me, and Lukas is holding my hand.
That is to say, have I been Stockholmed? Absolutely!
Smiling, I tuck my notebook back in its secret spot, rise, and get ready for the day.
Per usual once I leave my bedroom, Lukas is waiting for me, leaning against the hall wall. His eyes lighten—black and white going warm. “Morning, E-clair-a.”
“Morning, King.”
A predatory glint overwhelms him, but it can’t scare me anymore. No, no. I’m going on two weeks since I started living here, in a baking and cooking lap of luxury, and I’ve beenthoroughlyStockholmed.
I mean,pah-lease. There’s even alibrary! Someone call me Belle. I can live with this. I just need to worry—every second of every day—that I’m going to mess everything up.
Ahhh.
What blissful peace I’ve found!
Humming to myself after reaching my lovely kitchen, I put together breakfast parfaits, heaped high with yogurt and fresh fruit and granola. I chat with Crisis while everyone eats, and she tells me about her upcoming book series, which I can’t wait to read. As is usual most days, Kyran doesn’t show up for breakfast, so after everyone’s finished with their breakfast, I make him a sandwich and leave it marked for him in the fridge. Then, as I have for the past two weeks, I make sure I’m on track for any recipes today that have longer prep times while I think about the cozy reading corner that’s waiting for me upstairs.
Once I’ve prepped what I must prep, I melt into my bed with a book from the library. Beneath one of the twenty fluffy blankets Lukas got for me on that homegoods store run, I tumble merrily into fantastic worlds far, far away from stress, concerns, and senses of security that may or may not be false.
Engrossed in the dragons and forbidden love scrawled before my eyes, I don’t hear a knock on my door until Lukas calls, “Clara?”
I jump, cramming a piece of scrap notebook paper between the pages of my epic fantasy. “Huh? What? Yes?” I scramble to assess myself, look busy, look like I haven’t been wasting time reading like an idiot.
My door opens, revealing Lukas in a dark fitted t-shirt that can barely contain his rippling abs. I gulp, glance at my phone, freeze as my eyes lock onto the time.
Breath sticks in my chest.
Two. It’s two in the afternoon. It is two in the afternoon, and I haven’t made lunch.
No… No, no, no. My heartbeat hammers, lurching and slamming around in my chest. I set a timer, didn’t I? Did I not hear it? This can’t be happening.
The world crashes down around me as consequences spiral, spotting my vision.
I failed.
I’ve failed.
At the one simple thing I do around here.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, scrambling off my bed and out of my blankets. “I lost track of time. I—” I nearly crash into the plate of food he’s holding, but Lukas lifts it out of the way before I do.
He settles a hand on my shoulder to brace me. “Whoa there, cutie pie.”
My stomach knots.
Tears…spill down my cheeks.
