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“He would get aggressive and scare me and you were…”
“Aggressive.”
I nod and then take a sip. I choke on it and it takes me a second to recover. And then Killian is right there, rubbing my back, trying to help, in a squat in front of me, hair in his concerned eyes.
He thrusts a hand through it to get it out of the way. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I’ve had a shitty few days. And I felt like a jerk for last night. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
“You were mad at me for not letting you hurt Ray. You were mad at Ray. And then last night things got weird,” I say.
“I was worried and pissed off, but don’t make excuses for me. Isn’t that what you did for him in the early days? You told me that, remember? You shouldn’t have to make excuses for someone else’s bad behavior.”
“These aren’t early days for us, Killian; there’s no us. I’m just the pathetic, broken marker you’re trying to help while you get your money back from my loser ex who refuses to accept he’s an ex.” I sniffle and take another sip of the water.
His eyes actively search my face, and this makes me uncomfortable, so I decide to get up off the floor, which must look just so pathetic. That’s how I feel. Pitiful.
“I apologize for being a poor houseguest. I’m sorry; I like to spend Sundays with Susanna. We made a pact today to do it wherever possible, so I’ll plan to do something with her next Sunday, too. Maybe you can lend me a set of spare keys to borrow for the rest of the time I’m here.”
He continues to stare from his squat.
And I stand there feeling silly.
“And you went out yesterday,” I say, “and didn’t say anything to me, so I kinda used that in my head as justification to not say anything, because yes, I felt weird about last night. About how you were before Ray texted me last night. About how I reacted in the … um… bed. About… all of it. I’m sorry you were concerned. I didn’t think about it that way, didn’t think about how after last night you might be worried about Ray.”
Finally, he rises. He scratches his chin, looking thoughtfully at me.
I try one more stab at an apology. “I’m fucked up. I’m sorry. Please accept my apology.”
His expression doesn’t change so I keep babbling.
“Fucked up from this three-year relationship that’s technically not fully over in his mind even though it’s been over for me for a lot longer than I’ve admitted aloud because I’m so messed up. I don’t know if he fully knows or has accepted I’m done. I just… I can’t even think about starting anything else with someone until I get out of this limbo-”
He cuts me off. “I’ll get keys here for you. The code I gave you the other night is your alarm code.” He walks down the hall to his bedroom and comes back out and hands me a set of keys on a silver ring.
And my mouth is still open from where he cut me off mid-sentence.
“There’s the key to the front door, the garage, and I’ll get you a spare later for the recreation floor with the gym, pool, and shit. Something happens again, you text or call me, not go to the fucking doorman unless you can’t get me.”
“Thank you. But, you said you weren’t gonna stop me from talking and-”
“If I let you finish what you were saying, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from tracking him down and laying a beating on him, so what do you want? You wanna talk?”
I shake my head.
“I’ll drive you to work and back. You tell me if you have plans otherwise. I’ll do the same.”
I nod. “I should go get my car and put it in the-”
“I’ll do it.” He holds his hand out. I reach into my bag and grab my keys. My hands are still shaky and I can see his jaw muscles bulging as he takes them. He walks out without saying another word.
With a hollow feeling in my chest, I head to the guestroom and stay there until morning, remembering that the bag from the mall is on the front seat. Guess I’ll get that later.
***
I wake at least five times through the night.
Killian does not climb in bed with me.
***
Monday morning, he’s in the kitchen when I wake. Today, he’s in a suit. He sees me and immediately turns his back on me. I blanch, but then realize he’s reaching into the cupboard for the travel mug. He pours me a cup of coffee and fetches the creamer I like from the fridge.
“Good morning,” I greet.
And I see on the end of the counter, my bag of new nighties. He brought it up last night, I guess. My keys are sitting on the counter, too.
