Polly gave me a look that was usually one Dad and I reserved for her and Mom. “You’ve been setting more fires, Lucy?” she chastised.
That time I was successful at getting out of Keltan’s arms. I pretended it was because of my superior strength and not because he let it be so.
“No,” I shot at her before wandering back to the kitchen to refill my wine.
I regretfully snatched a beer and thrust it at Keltan. “Do not consider this an olive branch. I’m mad at you. I was just raised right and she—” I nodded to Polly, who was wandering back to her spot on the sofa. “—would totally tell Mom on me if I didn’t do such a pivotal thing as offer refreshment to a visitor.”
He took the bottle but didn’t let the distance remain between us. He lightly grasped my hip, his eyes engulfing me. Literally pulling me into him. Deeper. If that was possible.
“Not a visitor, baby,” he murmured, low enough so Polly, who was frowning at her phone, couldn’t hear. “Planning on making my presence permanent, so you don’t have to treat me like one. But by all means, if you want to keep offerin’ me beer, I won’t say no.” He glanced down at the bottle, breaking the eye contact but not the moment. The moment stayed. “Even if it’s nothing on New Zealand beer.”
He unscrewed the cap, throwing it in the waste bin before grabbing the wine from my hand and managing to unscrew that while still holding his beer, and fill my glass.
I watched the glass fill, then him.
He screwed the top back on. “I was raised right too, Snow. Dad made sure to show me how to treat a woman right. Did it by treatin’ my mum right. Then when he died, Mum made sure I continued doin’ that. Filled in the rest of the blanks,” he murmured.
I stared at his back as he put the bottle back in the fridge. How could he just drop emotional grenades like that and then wander away, not even fearing the explosion?
Then again, the explosion wasn’t entirely bad.
Polly stood up abruptly, bless her, forging through the smoking remains. “Okay, so my friend just texted me and said there’s this gig downtown at this bar. The band only just got let out of prison.” She hefted her small patchwork bag—vegan leather, of course—onto her shoulder. She eyed me. “Protesting the oil line that would desecrate national parks. Chained themselves to the bulldozers. So fucking passionate. And I heard they’re single.”
“Polly,” I began to warn, although I didn’t know why. Polly did what Polly wanted to do.
She waved her hand. “I’m going for the music, chill. And third-wheeling it is so not my style, no matter how hot your boyfriend is.” She winked at Keltan before leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll crash at the loft. Text you to pick up a key from your office or something tomorrow?”
I nodded, giving up. “Sure. We’ll grab lunch. This is L.A. You can’t throw a bunch of kale without hitting a plant-based raw café,” I deadpanned.
She grinned, blew me another kiss and was gone.
I made a mental note to call my mother and father the next day.
The silence without Polly was both deafening and comforting.
I turned to Keltan. This was the first proper alone time we’d had, in an apartment or office, that didn’t have other people around it.
Yet so much had happened.
And not enough.
“So… dinner?” he asked, glancing to me, as if unaware of the emotional detonation he’d set in motion.
I settled amongst it. “We need to talk about that,” I said sternly.
“Dinner?” he asked, sipping his beer and leaning against the counter, crossing his boot over his ankle. “Yeah. We do. You not eating enough of it.” He gave me a once-over. It wasn’t exactly the same as the one filled with erotic promise, though that was still there. But the overriding emotion was concern.
I felt uncomfortable under that gaze; it was too much like a mirror for my liking. Telling me my frame, that had always been slim but curvy, had lost most of its curves. And the bags under my eyes were accentuated by my pale skin. Even the best concealer in the world—I’d done the research—couldn’t hide them.
“I’ve been busy,” I told him.
He frowned. “Busy people find time to sleep and eat too, Snow. That’s not a fuckin’ excuse.”
I rolled my eyes. “I find a time to sleep. It’s called caffeine.”
My joke did not have its intended effect.
Instead of grinning like he was easy to do, usually at least, this new Keltan who I hadn’t seen in six months wasn’t exactly giving out those dimpled smiles. He glowered at me.
“How many coffees have you had today alone? And how many hours of sleep are they replacing?”