Chapter 38

MY NUMBER ONE

38

The first light of dawn seeps into the room, casting a soft glow on Killian's face as he opens his eyes. I'm surprised by how awake I feel despite the early hour. My core melts when he reaches over and gently pulls one of my curls, the first thing out of his mouth a quiet, "I love you."

My heart stumbles over itself as I search those silvery eyes. There's no hint of doubt or teasing there, only sincerity.

"I love you too," I breathe. The words slip out unbidden. I've lost all control and left my heart unguarded. But I can't find it in me to regret this leap of faith. I'll cherish every moment I'm given with him, be it minutes or forever.

Our words hang in the air, the weight of them settling around us as we lock gazes. I grin and lean in to kiss him, soft and slow. We take our time, hands roaming, relearning each other's bodies in the new morning light as we make love again.

I must doze off afterward because I wake again with the sound of the front door clicking open and then shut.

I stretch my arms above my head and sit up, gathering the sheet around me just as Killian walks in carrying two steaming paper cups of coffee and a white cardboard box.

"Morning, Sugar," he says with a grin.

He sets the coffees and the box on the nightstand and leans down to give me a quick kiss.

"My hero."

He picks up one of the buns from the box and hands it to me wrapped in a paper napkin. "How many of these do I have to bring over before you declare me a true and authentic cinnamon roll?"

"Still hung up on that?" I pat his cheek, chuckling. "I'm sorry, Bun, once a beautiful bastard, always a beautiful bastard."

"You still haven't told me how they do in bed?" He winks.

"Oh, what can I say? I'm more of a show, don't tell kind of gal," I steal his line.

I take a long sip of the hot coffee, letting the bitter liquid warm me from the inside out. Killian grabs his own cup and slides over the covers next to me. Then he leans over with a voice like velvet. "No need to say anything, Sugar, the way you dragged your nails down my back last night gave me a pretty good idea."

"I did not."

"Did, too. I might bear the scars for a while." He licks frosting off his fingers. "But don't worry, I'll wear them with pride."

"Jerk." I playfully push him aside. "Definitely still a beautiful bastard."

We eat the rest of our cinnamon buns in comfortable silence, shoulders touching.

After, I reluctantly crawl out of bed and get ready for a class that I wish I could skip to spend the morning in bed. Killian walks me to the door, pulling me in for a lingering kiss.

"See you later for body pump?" Killian has joined the fitness ranks and is now almost a fanatic of our workouts.

"Sure." I flash him a smile, stamp a quick kiss on his mouth, and head out the door.

We meet again on campus a few hours later, holding hands as we stroll the outdoor paths headed to the gym. It's a great day that mirrors my mood, the sun is shining, and it isn't too cold—even by Illinois standards.

As we pass the science building, I spot Dr. Hammond emerging from the front doors.

We're on an open pathway with nowhere to hide. I still hope my advisor won't see me, but when our eyes meet across the distance, I know there's no escaping saying hello.

"Dr. Hammond!" I call out, flashing him a strained smile.

"Ah, Leighton!" Dr. Hammond huffs, waving as he strides over, briefcase in hand, and sporting an amiable grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I meant to email you… your article evaluating the efficacy of generative language models in natural language processing has been published in Nature in their ‘Machine Intelligence' section."

He rummages into his briefcase and hands me a copy of the magazine. Excitement bubbles up in me as I take the publication from him, flipping through the pages until I find my article.

"Congratulations," Killian says, smiling at me.

My eyes widen with satisfaction as I stare at the glossy four-page spread. But as I reach the end of the article, my heart sinks. There, in black and white, is only Dr. Hammond's name. No mention of me whatsoever.

I look back up at my advisor, crestfallen. "Dr. Hammond," I begin, trying to control my disappointment, "I don't understand. My name isn't anywhere in this article."

Dr. Hammond shrugs. "Well, they likely wouldn't have published it without an established name attached."

Anger flares inside me. "You could have still put me as second author. This was my research!"

"Leighton, let's not make a fuss about it, shall we? You're lucky to have been involved at all," he dismisses me, ready to walk away.

Killian has kept quiet for the brief exchange, but now his eyes narrow as a low growl rumbles in his chest. His gaze is fixed on Dr. Hammond, his jaw set. And this one time, I don't even mind that he's growling. In fact, I might start snarling myself.

"I'm sure you can call the editor," Killian says, his voice steady and cold. "Leighton deserves recognition for her work."

"Excuse me?" Dr. Hammond raises an eyebrow at Killian, clearly not expecting external input.

Killian takes a single step forward, ready to go alpha male on me. But I stop him with a hand to the chest. I look at him in a way that says, "I can handle this."

He gives me a curt nod and takes a step back, leaving me free to direct all my fury on my advisor. "Dr. Hammond, I'm sure you didn't intentionally mean to appropriate work that isn't yours?"

"It is standard?—"

"Great." I don't let him finish. "Otherwise, I'm afraid I would've felt compelled to file an official complaint with the faculty board."

I stand tall, unwavering, channeling my inner boss girl.

Dr. Hammond seems to consider my words for a moment. The staring contest goes on until he finally lowers his gaze. "Fine," he mutters. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Dr. Hammond," I say, trying to keep my tone even. The professor nods and walks away, leaving Killian and me standing on the narrow campus path.

I let out a sigh of relief as Dr. Hammond scurries back into the science building he just left—that might have more to do with him clearly being intimidated by Killian's quiet fury than my newfound resolve to be respected. But I don't care, I finally stood up for myself and I'll make sure my name is on that article if it's the last thing I do.

"That felt good." I beam, turning to Killian. "Thank you."

He gives me a small smile. "I didn't do anything."

"No, but I appreciate the moral support and you having my back. But also that you let me fight my own battles."

"Of course. You did the work, you deserve the credit."

We start walking again, heading toward the gym.

"Are you really going to denounce what he did?"

Looping my arm with his, I say, "Yes, if he doesn't make things right, I've had it with him."

Killian stops, looking at me seriously. "I still don't understand why you haven't changed advisor."

"There's a certain stigma in academic circles about… making a fuss, especially if you're a woman." I lower my gaze because I'm not exactly proud of being such a pushover when it comes to my advisor. "I picked wrong. I shouldn't have gone with Dr. Hammond. But, with less than a year left before I graduate, it's just easier to finish my research, get my master's, and move on. I'll no longer have to deal with him next year."

Killian passes a hand through his hair. "Do you already know what your plans are after grad school?"

The question sounds a little too casual. And there's the hand through the hair thing. "Why?"

"That thing Mitch wanted to talk to me about the other day at the bar. Well, turns out he's looking to retire soon. And he's asked me if I'd be interested in managing the bar for him."

I smile brightly. "Well, that's fantastic. You owned The Outlaw in Lakeville Hills, so maybe that's your calling in both worlds."

"Yeah, but here's the thing." He stops. Hand through the hair again. Uh-oh. "The bar would be here in Evanston, will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Stay in the Chicago area, after school. I don't want to make any promises to Mitch if you're moving somewhere else."

A rush of warmth floods through me, so potent that it almost leaves me dizzy. It's like a sudden summer storm of happiness, overwhelming and unexpected. And then the floodgates open. Unbidden tears fill my eyes. I hide them burying my face into Killian's soft sweater, snuggling into the little space where the zipper of his jacket is lowered.

"Hey, hey, what's happening right now?"

I just shake my head, probably smearing snot all over him, because I can't talk.

Killian gently strokes my hair with one hand while he squeezes me reassuringly with the other. "Talk to me…"

"Can we go home?" I blubber between muffled sobs. He has to go to work after lunch, and I really don't want to have this conversation in the middle of campus. Or wait until body pump is over.

Killian agrees, not even mentioning the gym class that he'll hate to miss. But at the moment I'm not equipped to deal with squats and burpees or whatever else the instructor would've tortured us with today.

We keep quiet as we walk back home, but Killian keeps a protective arm wrapped over my shoulder the entire time. Once at the apartment, he eyes me, slightly worried, as we shuffle out of our jackets. And he has every right to be skeptical seeing how I'm behaving like a lunatic and had a complete meltdown on his sweater.

I want to explain myself, but my lower lip is still wobbling dangerously and I honestly don't know that I can keep up an entire conversation.

Killian raises both his eyebrows. "I didn't know me potentially managing a bar could be so upsetting."

I shake my head. "I'm not upset."

"Are those happy tears then?"

I nod before going to him and hugging him. I press my cheek into his chest and his arms wrap around me. I take a few steadying moments before I start talking, still not looking at him because I can't bear the intensity of his steely gaze right now. "In all my past relationships, if you can even call them that, I couldn't get a guy to commit to weekend plans in advance, or holidays, let alone think months or a year ahead…"

"Give me names, I can?—"

"Shhh, Killian." I squeeze him harder. "I'm trying to make a speech here."

"I'll mute myself."

A small breath of laughter escapes through the tightness in my chest. His heartbeat is steady against my ear, a grounding rhythm in the chaos of my emotions.

"Okay," I begin, and my voice sounds small even to my own ears. I try to gather my thoughts as he strokes my back in a regular pattern as if he could somehow smooth out the tangle of emotions within me. "What I was trying to say is that when you asked me about my plans for the future. How I'm—I'm a factor in your decision-making, even if we just got together like a day ago?—"

"Hey, I wouldn't say that." He tilts my chin up gently to look into my eyes. "We've been on more than a few adventures, hey."

"Still, Killian, this means a lot to me. To know we're in a real relationship where we can plan ahead, one where you're as invested as I am. That you're willing to adjust your life to mine. I never had this kind of commitment with anyone and… I'm just so happy."

I blurt out, "I love you."

"I know."

I smile at his cheeky answer, then kiss him, then one thing leads to another and we take our morning workout between the sheets instead of at the gym.

We're still naked under the blankets when Killian sighs. "I have to go to work."

"No." I wrap myself around him, squishing him on the mattress so he can't get out of bed. "Call in sick."

"I can't, the bar's going to be crowded today. The Paris Masters is on."

"What sport even is that?"

"Tennis."

I pout. "Well, I officially hate all sports."

"Does that hatred extend to all sports bars, too?"

"Especially sport bars."

Cute frown. "So I should definitely tell Mitch no?"

I get serious now and cup his cheek. "You've already moved worlds for me. If you want to take over the Blackhawk, I won't ask you to also move cities."

He rubs his stubble on my palm. "Are you sure? What if you can't find a job around here once you graduate? Or if your dream job ends up being somewhere else? I can find a bar in any city."

"Yeah, but you probably won't find someone who likes you so much they'd ask you to become the manager right away."

Killian pouts, mock offended. "I am very likable."

I roll my eyes. "And very modest."

"But you make a fair point, not all bar owners will be looking to retire and have someone else manage the place in their stead."

"See, becoming manager at the Blackhawk is a unique opportunity."

"It is, but it wouldn't matter without you."

"Are you actively trying to make me cry again?" I ask, fanning my face to stop the floodgates from reopening.

"No, I'm not." He tickles me. "Don't cry. Please, don't cry."

"I'm not," I protest between chuckles, rolling off him. "Please stop."

Killian stops the tickling but keeps his hands on my sides, just above my hips. "Anyway, I don't have to give him an answer right away. Mitch says he still has a few months under his belt."

"Then that's perfect. I will graduate next semester, and I'll do my best to find a job in the Chicago area. And if that doesn't happen, we'll reevaluate from there, okay?"

"Yeah. I can tell Mitch I need to see where my girlfriend is headed next year before I give him a definitive answer."

"I love it when you call me your girlfriend." I can't help the silliest smile from spreading on my face. "I still can't believe we're making plans, that you don't have commitment issues, or aren't emotionally unavailable." I gently grab his chin but with determination. "Hey, if you become boss at this bar, you won't turn into a workaholic who's never home and puts his job above everything else, right?"

He shrugs free of my grip and nuzzles my neck. "No, Sugar Spoon, you're always going to be my number one."