Page 46 of Bad Influence
“I don’t have a record,” Caroline says. “As if a Sinclair caneverhave a police record. I was only arrested and released with a warning to not stab anyone again.”
“Still, Caroline Sinclair arrested. That’s not something which happens everyday.”
Giggling, she fills her glass with water. “Not going to lie, it was a wild ride. They actually put me in handcuffs.”
Grabbing her plate from the microwave, she takes two forks out of the drawer and sits down at the table. I pick up her wrap from where she threw it on the couch earlier and hand it to her.
“You’re probably cold,” I say.
As if just now realizing what she’s wearing, Caroline hurriedly grabs the wrap and pulls it around herself. “Damn it, Killian, why don’t you tell me these things earlier?”
I take a seat across from her at the table. I’m not the middle of the night meal type of person, but Caroline is finally relaxed enough to tell me a lot of things I missed out on so I’ll eat with her.
“You picked out the clothes,” I remind her.
“To sleep in. Not to have a midnight meal with you,” she protests. “Obviously I’m way too comfortable around you.” Crossing her legs on the chair, she tucks her hair behind her ear and picks up her fork.
“That’s a bad thing?”
She chews her bite of mac and cheese thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Depends on how you look at it, I guess.”
I sit back against my chair, watching her quietly. Her lowered lashes cast shadows across her pink cheeks. Her lips glisten wet from where she licks the taste of Mac and cheese off them. The way her hair falls around her shoulders, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. I don’t see her comfort around me as a bad thing. It’s probably the only time she’s allowed herself to be vulnerable with someone.
“Let me paint you,” I say, before I can think better of it. Maybe I’m still reeling from her confession.
I’ve spent years knowing she was expected to marry Beckett; months staring at their wedding invitation as my personal form of torture. To have my suspicions confirmed about this wedding is another matter entirely. There was a part of me which was almost convinced Caroline had cold feet and would go back.
There’s nothing stopping us from… Well, there’s nothing stopping us. I don’t know whether to be happy or sit with the feeling for a while. I’m choosing the next best thing, something I’ve wanted since I saw her in the apartment.
Caroline pauses mid-bite, surprised eyes flickering to mine.
“What?” Holding up a finger, she finishes chewing, and then asks again, “what?”
“I want to paint you.”
“I’m thinking you’re the one who needs the hangover cure because you’re clearly drunk,” she says.
“I didn’t drink,” I explain. “You don’t have to decide tonight. You can think about it.”
I’d rather start tonight because now that I’ve voiced the idea, my hand is itching to pick up a paintbrush. I haven’t created in months and I'm fully aware of the deadline for the exhibit ticking closer. The closer it gets, the harder it will be to back out.
“Well, thank you so much, if you hadn’t given me the time to think, I would have agreed to this crazy idea.” Rolling her eyes, Caroline stabs her fork into the mac and cheese and brings it to her mouth while giving me the stink eye.
“Alright, I’ll ask tomorrow.” I lean forward, resting my arm on the table and digging into the mac and cheese.
Giving me a suspicious look, she continues to eat without saying anything else. I bite off a smile, feeling a strange sense of calmness for the first time since her arrival.
CHAPTER 14
Killian
Through the windowsin my studio, the sky is a navy blue shot through with purple and pink. The Manhattan bridge is stacked with cars, red and yellow lights glowing in the semi-darkness. Below, the streets are empty. It’s incredibly quiet and peaceful and yet, there’s a strange restlessness inside me.
I haven’t been able to sleep, so I’m in the studio trying to paint. The only thing I’ve been able to paint is slender shoulders, a graceful neck, long dark hair twisting around in waves. It doesn't take a genius to guess who I’ve been trying to paint, very unsuccessfully. I take the canvas off the easel and put it away with the rest of unfinished canvases.
Caroline is asleep, and will probably stay asleep for a good while. There are so many questions I want to ask, so much clarification I need. The fire in her eyes last night made it clear she’s definitely not backing down from her decision. Something else must have happened. It’s not as simple as cheating.
Caroline’s patiencebroke.Enough to fucking stab Beckett, and enough to leave the West Coast and come here. Just five years ago, she’d made it seem like she was never going to leave even though I’d warned her that if she stayed, she’s going to ruin her life.
