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When he cut the call, Eoghan and Declan did as well, though they shot me a smirk apiece, which left Finn on the line.
“Thank you for that, deartháir.”
“You’ve done more for me,” Finn dismissed. “But I meant it. It might not wake him up to the nonsensical attitude he has toward her, but it might make him cut her some slack.”
“I appreciate that.” I hunched my shoulders. “I really fucking do.”
His lips quirked to the side. “See you at the warehouse. I hope the kick she gets out of it was worth that confession.”
I grinned. “I know it will be.”
He winked then ended the call which turned out to be perfect timing because Star suddenly ambled into the room, sans Katina, Ren and Stimpy in her arms.
For once, they weren’t trying to bite her and she was muttering soft sounds at them and—was the world ending?—nuzzling them against her cheek.
“You drugged them?” I asked warily.
She sniffed. “No. They’re sick.”
“They are?”
Nodding, she moved toward her desk and dragged their bed beside it.
As she placed them inside and tucked them between the blankets, she explained, “Just went into the kitchen and saw they’d had a feast of the chicken skin we threw in the trash last night. You need to get the waste disposal repaired.”
“I’ll contact the super now,” I said immediately, pulling up my emails and shooting off a message right then and there.
With that done, I rocked back in my seat and watched as she fussed around the kittens she professed to dislike, but those cooing noises of hers made a liar out of her.
When they were snoozing, she retreated with a sigh to her computer.
I pulled a small box from my desk drawer and called out, “Heads-up.”
That drew her attention. A second later, the rattling box landed in her hand and she smirked as she tore open the Boston Baked Beans.
“Thanks, Conor,” she sang as she started snacking before plunking her ass into her chair.
Working with someone in here was new, and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. I’d thought I might need some space, what with how I’d lived before, but I appreciated her presence.
She broke up the silence I hadn’t realized was infesting my life.
She filled the spaces that had been expanding with time.
The thought had me sighing with contentment as I cracked on with my own work too.
An hour later, when an email came through confirming a train of thought I’d had the other night, I broke into the silence to state, “Belyaev’s sister, Yelizaveta, is still alive.”
She frowned at me over her monitor. “I never thought she’d be dead.”
“Why not?”
“Umm…” Her nose crinkled. “I genuinely forgot to tell you.”
“You mean this isn’t you holding intel back from me?”
“I promise.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I teased, deciding that giving her shit was important for keeping her ego in check.
