***
It’s just after 7:30 when he comes in. The sound of his keys now leaves a familiar unpleasant feeling in my chest and my stomach.
I didn’t think I’d even see him tonight because there’s some sports game on that he wants to watch at a bar in our neighborhood and that would typically mean he’d get in after I’m asleep. Why is he early?
“Brought a buddy home, babe,” Ray calls out, “Dinner almost ready?”
I’m at the counter, making dinner for me. Only me. Because Ray wasn’t here when I started cooking and I didn’t expect him to be here. Not only that, but I also know he hates the dish I’m making and I’m making it because I figured he’d be out.
He steps up behind me and pulls me against his body, but I cringe before I realize there’s another set of eyes on me as I’m turned around by my shoulders. Ray plants a kiss on my mouth. He tries to slip in the tongue, even, and my head jerks back in shock. And that’s when I get a glimpse of who he brought with him, standing just inside the doorway, watching me cringe, looking at me with rapt attention.
He saw me recoil. I think Ray missed it; his friend didn’t.
“Killian Coulter, my fiancée, Violet.” Ray releases me and I look straight into the piercing green eyes of the tall, dark-haired, handsome Killian. And it’s like his eyes have seized mine.
To say I’m shocked – major understatement. Because not only have I seen Killian Coulter once before; I’ve heard about him a hundred times. Ray idolizes this guy.
“Ran into Kill and it was bullshit at the bar, so figured we’d come back for dinner, beers, and to watch the game on TV. We got enough dinner?”
That game probably costs $49.99 on pay-per-view. And it’ll be me that has to pay for it.
“Um, yeah,” I say, still locked by green eyes. And I jolt. Because… why? I don’t know.
“You sure?” Killian asks.
I swallow and force myself to nod. “Welcome. Yeah, definitely. Can I get you something to drink?”
He steps up to me as Ray moves toward the couch.
“Great to meet you finally.”
He hugs me and my lungs seize. I don’t get a chance to hug him back before he moves away.
“Beers, babe,” Ray requests and waves for Killian to follow him to the couch.
My apartment is small. When you walk in, there’s my bedroom and bathroom in a short hallway to the left and directly ahead you’re looking at the small kitchen and that opens up into the living/dining room combo, separated by a peninsula counter.
Despite the size, it’s in a great location with a gym and great neighbors.
Well…when I talked to my neighbors. I don’t do much of that these days. People who used to say hello or smile don’t bother. They probably hear Ray shouting, throwing things. They probably feel sorry for me. Not that I make eye contact either. Nobody really talks to either of us, except Mrs. Shear, the elderly lady on the main floor who lives on her own. I think she’s got early onset dementia. She used to tell us that Ray reminded her of her son, Danny, but Ray told me recently she started calling him Danny whenever she saw him.
I bring beers to Killian and Ray who are getting comfortable on my couch.
“Thank you, Violet,” Killian says as I lean over, setting his beer on a coaster. Ray’s eyes are on the TV, but his hand is outstretched so I hand him his.
He immediately launches into a monologue with the specs for the TV he’s got his eye on, complaining about our television being a ‘piece of shit’.
I smile at Killian, whose eyes are still on me, before I move back to the kitchen counter, the intensity in his gaze putting me way off kilter.
Killian. The shock.
I’d seen him the night Ray and I met. And I haven’t seen him since.
When Ray and I met in that nightclub three years ago during a girls’ night out, he and Killian definitely stood out. And I vividly remember both sets of eyes on me while I was dancing. A song later, as I was moving back to sit with my friends, Ray walked over and asked me to dance. Killian disappeared. It’s the night I’ve wished I could go back to and do-over. I’ve wished that more than once, because if I could go back knowing what I know now, I’d say no to the dance. Or I’d give him a wrong number. I wouldn’t be charmed by his looks, the sparkle in his eyes.
The two of them standing at that bar were pretty much in the league it’d be if Charlie Hunnam and Henry Cavill stood at the bar together. It was intense to feel both of those sets of gorgeous eyes on me while I danced with some friends.
I had the feeling they were talking about me and I still recall the way my heart flared wondering if one of the two would approach.
They were both dressed entirely in black, and Ray (tall, blond, with a sexy grin) and Killian (tall, dark-haired, and assessing) had their eyes on me as Ray whispered something to Killian. To say I was flattered to have both sets of eyes on me was another understatement. I’d initially been hoping it would be the dark-haired guy that made his approach. Something in his eyes stopped me cold and made my body tingle. And I’d always preferred dark-haired men over blond ones. It wasn’t him, though. It was Ray with his sexy smirk and his charm and those mesmerizing blue eyes that wandered over. And sadly for me, the minute he did, the dark-haired guy vanished. Though I never saw him again (until now), I’d heard about him plenty.
And Ray? He charmed the pants off me. Literally. No, not that night, but on date number four. Up until that point, it was a slow dance of seduction.
It started with a dance, and that smile, those blue eyes, and all sorts of charm that swept me off my feet. Three years later under that same blue gaze, instead of charmed I find myself cowering because he’s regularly yelling in my face or belittling me.
What if it’d been Killian that approached that night instead of Ray? Or nobody and I’d just gone home? Where would I be now?
As I consider this, removing strings off my sugar snap peas, I feel Ray hover over me at the same time as Killian excuses himself to use our bathroom. Ray’s smile is beaming and charismatic until the door clicks shut.
Ray’s finger then lifts my chin so that our eyes are locked. His voice drops low, and his smile is gone.
“You get my text?” he asks.
“My phone is still in my purse. Didn’t take it out after work.”
“Be extra sweet tonight, Violet. You represent me. I want Kill to know I got it good. Show him that. I mean it.” His index finger moves to an inch from my eye. I say nothing.
He turns and stalks away, leaving me slouched in the corner as he plops back on the couch and looks at his phone.
When wasn’t I sweet? No. Seriously. I don’t even disagree or talk back anymore. I do nothing to earn me his ire, though just existing seems to mean I get it regularly.
Killian steps up to the counter a minute later, a frown on his face, his voice low. “Can I help?”
I know what he sees right now. Me, looking meek and chastised. Have I been standing here for moments in a daze?
“That’s okay,” I whisper, clawing at my throat. I feel like I’m about to break out in hives. Again. It’s been happening frequently lately, often syncing up with Ray’s moods.
I straighten up with a smile, going back to work on the stir fry. I’d originally planned it to be dinner tonight and lunch at work tomorrow. Looks like this is going to feed the three of us. I reach into the fridge and pull out more vegetables and the other half of the brick of tofu I’d just put away.