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“What? God, no. Love is love.”
Honestly his daughter’s sexual preferences had absolutely nothing to do with any of her problems. She could be involved in some dinosaur romance for all Erica cared. Which apparently was a thing in the erotic world. She’d stumbled on one by accident, browsing on her e-reader. The sample she’d read had possibly scarred her for life.
Which was neither relevant nor the point but was instead an example of how undisciplined her brain was right now. She needed to deal with what was wrong so she could start acting and thinking normally again.
She picked up her drink, put it down untasted, then looked at Killion.
“I’m not in love with you and we’re not getting married.”
Nothing about his expression changed as his dark green gaze met hers. “So we’re done talking about my daughters and getting together for brunch.”
“Apparently.”
He wiped his hands on a towel. They were in his kitchen, the island between them. Erica appreciated the physical barrier—in some strange way, it made her feel more secure. Not that she was afraid of Killion. Of the two of them, she knew she was the more emotionally dangerous.
“I don’t recall proposing and I’ve never told you I love you,” he said, his voice calm and reasonable. “What brought on your announcement?”
She felt her face flushing. “Several things. Mostly Summer. The other night she mentioned she thought you would be a good stepfather and that we should get married.” Erica paused. “Actually she asked me if she was the reason we weren’t married.”
“I hope you explained that marriage was never on the table for us. Neither of us needs the financial connection and socially, there isn’t a reason. You enjoy your independence.”
“Don’t you enjoy yours? Are you saying this is all on me? That if it were up to you we’d be married and then what? Sharing a house? Having more children? That’s not happening. I’m forty-eight years old. I’m not interested in having more children.”
“Why are you angry?”
His voice was so calm and reasonable, which made her want to throw something.
“I’m not. I’m telling you where I am. I don’t want to marry you. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings.”
He studied her, as if trying to figure out what was going on. She hoped he didn’t ask, because she didn’t have any answers. She understood she was overreacting. Killion had never proposed or even hinted he wanted more—so why was she so mad at him? But logic ended there. While her brain continued to process and point out she was making a fool of herself, every other part of her was six emotions past terrified. She lashed out to protect herself. She wanted to throw something at his head, then bolt for safety.
“Are you afraid you’re in love with me, or could be?” he asked.
He sounded more curious than concerned, which should have made her feel better but didn’t.
“I want to say you’ll be safe if you love me,” he continued. “I would do my best never to hurt you, but being that close to someone means the hurts are inevitable. Signals get crossed or misread. Emotions bump into each other in the night. There’s pain.
“I wouldn’t leave you,” he added, again as calmly as if discussing adding capers to the sauce. “I’ve often thought the suddenness of Peter going was as much a part of what damaged you as the pain of it. He was cruel and he knew how to hurt you where it wouldn’t show.”
The flush returned, deeper this time. “You don’t know that. I never told you the details.”
“I know enough to guess the rest.”
“I wasn’t damaged.”
“We’re all damaged. For what it’s worth, you would hurt me, as well. It happens. But we would talk about it, learn from the experience and do better. When it’s good between people, that’s what they do.”
He continued to watch her. “I am in love with you, by the way. In case it matters.”
If she’d been capable of speech, she would have shrieked. Or screamed. As it was, she could only stand there, probably not breathing, telling herself he hadn’t just said what he said.
“You just went completely white. Not the sign I was hoping for.”
Sadness flashed in his beautiful eyes and then there was no emotion at all. She would guess he’d retreated somewhere safe because Killion knew her as well as she knew herself and he could guess what she was going to say next.
“Don’t,” she breathed. “Don’t love me. I don’t want that. I want what we had. It was nice, but not important. We were convenient and we got along and nothing about our relationship mattered.”
He stiffened slightly, as if the words wounded, but she couldn’t deal with that. Or him. Or anything.
