Page 58 of My Fake Dating with the Grumpiest Highlander
“Sorry. I thought I was alone.”
We stare at each other for a second.
Two seconds.
Three painfully awkward seconds where neither of us seems to know what to say.
“You can’t sleep either?” I finally ask.
Excellent line, Mary. Truly outstanding work.
“Clearly,” he replies.
Normally, I’d bristle at the tone, but there’s so much exhaustion in Finn’s voice that I let it slide.
“Post-McGregor-dinner insomnia?”
One corner of his mouth lifts slightly. Barely. But it’s there.
“You could call it that.”
I move farther into the kitchen and open the fridge.
“I heated up some milk,” he says, gesturing toward the saucepan on the stove. “There’s some left if you want any.”
“Warm milk?”
I’m surprised we had the exact same idea, but Finn misreads my reaction.
“You got a better cure for insomnia?”
Biting my lip, I tilt my head.
“Warm milk and chocolate cookies?”
I pull out the package I hid in one of the cabinets the day I arrived and place it on the table. Finn eyes the package suspiciously.
“They’re dark chocolate,” I clarify. “Seventy percent cacao. Not the overly sweet processed kind.”
He arches an eyebrow.
“You’re a cookie snob?”
“I know what sugar does to living organisms.”
I pour myself a bowl of warm milk and sit across from him. At this hour, the kitchen feels strangely cozy. Quiet. Peaceful. Far away from the chaos of dinner.
We drink in silence for several minutes. A silence that isn’t comfortable exactly, but not hostile either.
Just neutral.
“She’s manipulating us,” I finally say, repeating what I’d already admitted earlier that night.
Finn doesn’t even look up from his mug.
“I know.”
I blink at him.
