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Chapter Thirty-One
Chloe
“You always wanted a pet growing up, but you couldn’t have one,” Cillian says, taking his turn in our drinking game.
“Correct. My dad was allergic to cats and dogs. I would have loved a cat.”
“I am so good at this.”
“You are.” He’s guessed everything right so far, whereas I’ve had two of my five guesses wrong.
Cillian pours some wine into the glass and hands it to me. I drink and savor the taste of the sweet wine.
Tonight, we’re stealing some time away from everything to spend the night together.
He was away all day again. When he got home, he took my hand, led me to his car, and we drove here to this little French restaurant he and Seamus love.
Since the other night when we confessed our love for each other, things have changed again. We’re closer, and there’s a deeper bond between us.
I know he still has a lot on his mind and a lot to work through, but he seems stronger. I am, too.
“Your turn, lass. Remember to be creative.”
“I'll do my best. It’s just hard to read you.”
“To give you a clue, I never had any pets either. My parents thought it would be too much hassle because we travelled so much.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. And there goes my question.” I laugh and try to think of something cool. “You always wanted to play an instrument.”
He chuckles. “Well done. I would have played the piano, but I never had the time to learn it. I can play a little, but not enough to claim that I play.”
“Yay me.”
He takes a drink.
“You can still learn to play the piano,” I point out.
“I suppose so. It’s just finding the time. How did you guess that?”
“Because of the way you look when I’m playing my music. Like you wish you could play. You also know the composers and the names of their compositions. Most people don’t know that.”
“I like Bach, Wagner, and Debussy.”
“Me too.”
“I know. My turn, lass.” He gives me a salacious smile that sets off the butterflies living in the pit of my stomach.
“Go for it.”
“You can’t wait to jump my bones when we get home. You’re planning on getting me naked and having your way with me the moment we step through the door.”
I laugh but decide to humor him because I always feel like that about him. “Correct.”
“I think I need a kiss.”
“C’mere, lad.” I do my best impression of his accent. It sounds terrible, but it works.
He leans in to give me a kiss. When we pull apart and I reach for my drink, my entire body freezes when I find myself staring at Cillian’s ex’s twin sister. The woman from Cillian’s office. It’s hard to believe it was months ago that I last saw her there.
