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When I hear the door to the hotel room open and shut, followed closely by the smell of bacon, I can’t hide out in the bedroom any longer. My stomach growls loudly as I open the door .
Killian, still shirtless, is pouring coffee at the small table. He stops and looks at me as I enter the room. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t have to. His eyes say everything—that he’s attracted to me, that he wishes I were naked again and back in bed—but something is holding him back from doing what he really wants. I just wish I knew what that was .
I let my eyes drop to his body as I make my way over to the table that is large for a hotel room, even for a suite. From the looks of his muscles, it’s obvious that he works out but not in the obsessed-with-the-gym sort of way. Just in the I-care-about-my-body-and-want-to-be-healthy-and-look-good sort of way .
My mouth is gaping, I realize, as I stare at his body. “I, uh…your body…you look good,” I say, trying to make up for why I’m gawking awkwardly at him .
He chuckles at my broken words. I quickly bite my lip to keep it from falling open again and saying anything more embarrassing .
“I didn’t know what you would want for breakfast, so I ordered two options. There is a healthy or a I-want-to-die-happy option .”
I take a seat opposite him and grab the plate with the pancake, eggs, and bacon. His eyes grow wide, but he doesn’t say anything .
I smile. “It wasn’t what you thought I would choose?” I slightly raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to respond .
He frowns, shaking his head. “No .”
That’s when I look at the plate in front of him. A majority of the plate is fruit and vegetables along with an egg white omelet. He’s not drinking coffee, only water. He’s a health nut. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown my true colors in front of him, but I don’t really care. After breakfast, I will never see this man again .
“How are you feeling this morning ?”
I bite into my pancake, the food immediately settling my stomach .
“Hungry,” I say .
I dig more into my meal so that I don’t have to talk. I don’t know what you are supposed to say when having breakfast with a man you almost had sex with. And he doesn’t seem like a huge talker anyway. So, maybe he will just enjoy the silence .
“When did your father die ?”
I was wrong. He’s a talker. I stare awkwardly up at this stranger, not sure I want to confide in him. But I need to confide in someone, so why not him? He’s already told me that he doesn’t want me to get attached, so he’s not looking for anything beyond whatever happens this morning .
“He died four days ago.” I don’t look at him. I just shovel more food into my mouth .
“That’s what I thought,” he says, his voice sounds sad, withdrawn. “Were you close ?”
“Yes, he was the only person in my family who even remotely understood me .”
“I’m sorry,” he says after a long pause .
I give him a weak smile as I glance up from my food. He seems genuine. I nod, but words like that never make me feel any better, no matter how genuine they are .
A few seconds pass as we both make huge dents in our breakfast plates. Neither of us speaks. I barely even breathe .
“I’ve never lost anyone like that. I can’t imagine the pain you are going through …”
“It’s not something I ever thought I would go through. And I’m not sure how I’m going to get through it right now. The pain is unbearable. I just know that I have to find a way…for him .”
He nods and waits for me to say more, but I don’t .
“His death is what you’re running from,” he says .
I stare off into the distance. Is that what I’m running from? His death? I think for a moment. No, it’s not his death I’m running from. It’s my future .
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m running from family obligations that have been sped up now that he’s gone .”
His mouth turns upward into a slight smile. I have no idea why my statement would make a man who hardly ever smiles, smile .
“Now, that’s something I can understand .”
