Chapter 30

BETWEEN THE LINES

30

The book-desecrating man I'm not dating walks in, the fatigue etched on his face still unable to overshadow his unfair good looks.

"Hey," he says casually, his only sign of surprise at finding me still up a raised eyebrow. He pauses when he sees my expression. "Is everything okay?"

Do I confront him with the whole "our relationship is a lie" thing? Do I ask him directly, or do I beat around the bush until he breaks?

Instead of coming up with wild theories, I should've locked in an interrogation strategy while I waited for him to get home. Read manuals on reverse psychologization and mental warfare.

Now, I decide on a mix of both because who says you can't have your confrontation cake and eat it too?

"Yeah," I say, but even to my own ears, it sounds more like a question than an affirmation. I cross my arms and lean against the kitchen bar.

Killian sets his keys down and takes off his jacket, a small furrow forming between his brows. He's gone into problem-solving mode; I can practically see the cogs turning in his head. "Why are you still up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

He sighs, coming closer. But he stops when I nearly recoil. "You're clearly upset about something. Want to tell me what it is?"

"I don't know." I mockingly tap my chin. "Is there anything I should be upset about?" I know I'm practically rewriting the book on how not to handle a mature discussion, but I can't help the pettiness.

"Spoon, it's late." Killian massages his forehead. "If I forgot to replace the toilet paper roll or squeezed the toothpaste wrong, just tell me."

I scoff.

"Is it my hairs in the sink again? Because I'm pretty sure I left it clean this morning after shaving."

"Don't try to be cute. I'm mad."

"About what?"

"You lied," I accuse, pointing a finger at him.

He frowns. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"About what?"

"I don't know," I yell. I'm at my wits' end.

"Sugar, it's late, and you're not making any sense?—"

"Don't Sugar me anything."

Killian holds up his hands in surrender. "Fine," he concedes with a dramatic sigh, taking a cautious step forward. "What did I do?"

"I already told you, you lied."

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

He tilts his head, still definitely trying to be cute. "Then tell me about what so I can explain."

"I already told you I don't know what you lied about."

"Then how do you know I lied?"

"Because the book says so," I snap, pointing at my bed.

"The book? You can't seriously be mad at me about something that thing said."

"Why not?"

"Because it's just a book."

"A magical book that you magically splashed out of that knows both me and you almost better than we know each other." I storm toward the bed and pick it up. "And this ‘thing,' as you call it, is saying that our entire relationship is based on a lie."

"And I have no idea what it's talking about."

"So you never lied to me, not once since we met."

Killian thinks hard, and I can pinpoint the exact moment he figures out what the book is talking about from the way his eyes widen and a shadow crosses his face. "Okay," he admits, holding his hands out like a traffic cop halting cars. "I've never lied since coming here."

I cross my arms and tap my foot. "And before?"

Killian lets out a huff of frustration. "Does it really matter what happened in Lakeville Hills? You always say it wasn't real."

"And you always say our feelings were real, so if they're based on a lie, I'd like to know."

"There was no other investor, okay?" At my confused frown, Killian explains. "For your bakery. I bought it because I wanted to open an upscale wine bar."

I gape. "So that entire tale about you saving the day was made up? Why even bother?"

"Because by that point, I was in love with you and didn't want you to hate me."

"So you lied to me? Why? What made you think that was a better option than just telling me you'd been an inconsiderate douchebag and had simply changed your mind?"

Killian gets a fazed look that I haven't seen since the first few days he was here. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"It's hard to explain." He starts to pace, passing a hand through his hair repeatedly. "It feels like I didn't have a choice."

That's when the hard truth dawns on me. "Of course, because it was scripted. You're scripted. You're not in control of how you act or what you feel. The only reason you want to be with me is because you can't help yourself. Someone pre-programmed it into your very essence, like a line straight out of a cheesy rom-com. You're the ‘bad boy with a heart of gold' trope to the letter."

Killian stops pacing and looks at me, his eyes earnest. Then he comes over and grabs me gently by the biceps. "It might've been that way in Lakeville Hills, but I've been nothing but in control since I've come here. I'm staying with you because I want to, not because I'm programmed to. I like you because you're adorably cynical with a humor so dry it can absorb an ocean. And you're smart and funny and fierce. And I haven't lied to you once since that day you pulled me here. Do you believe me?"

I look at him and then stare down at the magical book still in my hands.

Killian squeezes my arms. "Don't look at that damn book for confirmation. In a real relationship you can't rely on a magical trinket to tell you if you trust your partner. You have to feel it in here." He punches his chest twice. "Do you trust me?"

I shrug free. "How can I trust you when I cannot even trust you're real?"

Killian's face hardens. Without another word, he turns and grabs his gym duffle bag, shoving his few possessions inside.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to give you space."

"What does that mean?"

"That I'm going to check myself into a motel and leave you time to figure out what you want." The way he zippers up the bag has a sense of finality that turns my insides cold.

"Are you trying to prove you're a real man by leaving like all real men do?"

Killian drops the bag to the floor and wheels on me. I take a step back because the expression on his face is truly frightening, only I have little room to travel backward as my shoulders hit the wall. And then he's on me, caging me in.

"I'm not leaving," he says, the softness of his voice a stark contrast to the fury on his face. "I'm giving you space to figure out what you want. You have to decide if you want this, me, us. I can't be with someone who doesn't trust me. If you're too scared to give us a chance, then, yes, I want out."

"Surprise, surprise," I spit bitterly.

Killian pinches his nose. "Spoon, I'm trying real hard to do the mature thing here."

"What exactly is mature about leaving?"

"Everything," he hisses. "I'm giving you time to think, decide what you want. The me in Lakeville Hills would've simply kept you pressed against this wall until I had my way." He pushes his hips into me for emphasis, causing all sorts of reactions in my body: heat that spreads through my belly, a flutter in my chest, and a tingling awareness to my lips of just how close our mouths are. All signs that yeah, he could probably get me to do whatever he wanted simply by pinning me to the wall. "But I won't do that or pull off some extravagant grand gesture." He eases the pressure of his lower body against mine and I almost cry out in protest. "What you see is what you get. I've been here for over a month. We've slept together every night of that time. I've been patient, understanding, but I'm done waiting for you to make up your mind about me. So figure out what you want, Spoon. Quickly. Because I can't do this dance forever."

He takes a step back, and all the heat leaves my body.

Without another half look my way, he pulls his jacket back on, grabs his bag from the floor, and leaves.

And I could've almost believed that collected, mature speech about him just giving me space if not for the loud, angry slam of the door.

"And you shouldn't dog-ear other people's books," I yell at the closed door.