Page 8 of Ciaran

I nibble on my lower lip and shake my head. “Sorry.” When his eyes narrow in confusion, probably because he’s wondering why the hell I’ve thrown out an apology, I blurt, “Great place,” to cover up my gaffe.

He grins, the awkward moment forgotten. “Declan recommended it. He’s on semi-friendly terms with the owner, Penn Kingcaid. His family own the Kingcaid Hotel chain, among many other businesses. Penn runs the restaurant side of their empire, but from what Declan tells me, this is a personal venture for him outside the family name. If it weren’t for Declan, I wouldn’t have managed to get a reservation. It’s booked out for months.”

I know who the Kingcaids are. I’ve walked past their Chicago hotel on many occasions, peering through the sparkling glass entranceway into the fancy lobby. I never dared to take a peek inside. Now, though, I peer past the host station into the restaurant. It’s all cream leather, intimate lighting, and expensive oak flooring—the kind of place Tanner would never have taken me. I shift from foot to foot. When Ciaran said dinner was on him, I imagined he’d take me to a diner or something similar, not an upscale place like this. Dinner for two here will cost a fortune.

Before I can voice my thoughts, the hostess grabs two menus and invites us to follow her. Once seated, I take a menu from her and open it, somehow swallowing a gasp at the prices. The cost of one meal here would cover my grocery bill for the month.

I can’t let him pay for this.

Glancing around at the other diners, all well-dressed and groomed, I pluck at my dress, bought on special at a thrift store. I don’t fit in here. I don’t fit in anywhere.

“It’s really expensive,” I whisper in case the next table overhears. “Let’s go get a hot dog or something.”

Ciaran glances up from his menu, his eyebrows pulling inward. “Don’t you like it here?”

A blush creeps up my neck at my unintended rudeness—something Tanner had criticized me for more than once if I ever dared to offer an opinion.

“It’s lovely. I didn’t mean to insinuate otherwise. But the prices…”

Ciaran sets his menu on the table and links his fingers together. His body edges forward, and he expels a soft breath through his nose. “Forget the cost. I want to treat you. But if you’d rather go then we’ll go. It’s your call.”

A wealth of emotions rushes through me. It’s been so long since anyone bothered to ask what I want, or cared about the answer. Yet one look at Ciaran’s intense expression tells me if I get up right this second and demand we leave, he’ll honor my request without hesitation.

Except, I don’t want to go. I want to stay exactly where I am, in the warm, buzzing atmosphere, where the smell of food is so good, my mouth fills with saliva at the thought of tasting it. Not to mention I’m sitting opposite a man who is the epitome of kind and gentle. And those hypnotic eyes…deep pools of emerald tinged with a sorrow that hadn’t been there in high school. It makes me wonder why he’s sad, but it’s not for me to pry. We’ve both changed, both had experiences that have shaped the adults we’ve become. My story is a disastrous one. I can’t help being curious about Ciaran’s. Not that I intend to ask. Opening the door to his past will invite him to step into mine.

I graze my teeth over my bottom lip. “If you’re sure…”

His answering smile dazzles me. “Right answer.”

A laugh bubbles up from deep within me, the ease of it coming as quite a surprise. How long has it been since I’ve laughed without faking it? Must be years. Yet thirty minutes with Ciaran O’Reilly, and already he’s made it happen. I laughed last night, too. There’s something about him that’s so easy to be around.

“Okay, then.” I peruse the menu. “What do you want me to have?”

His head jerks back, his eyes tightening at the corners. “It’s not about what I want you to have. What do you want?”

I freeze, my stomach twisting. I’ve revealed too much. On the odd occasion Tanner took me to eat out, he always chose for me. He’d never allowed me to pick my own food, so my question was a natural one to ask—for me. But from the look on Ciaran’s face, he finds it strange, his watchful gaze reading more than I want him to.

I fake a smile. “Sorry, it all looks delicious. I meant what would you recommend?” I almost trip over my words in an effort to paper over the enormous crack I’ve ripped open.

His face smooths, and I suppress a sigh of relief.

“Declan said the coq au vin is delicious. And the mussels to start are a must if you like that kind of thing.”

I close my menu. “That settles it. Mussels and coq au vin.”

Ciaran’s affectionate smile is both familiar and strange. He lets the server know we’re ready to order, sharing a joke with him once he arrives at our table. Memories from high school crowd my mind, demanding attention. I rarely allow myself to think about those days before I made the biggest mistake of my life. For now, though, I let the recollections come: giggling with Ciaran at the back of science class, trying to beat him on the running track, and failing miserably; sneaking into the movie theater without paying. We’d been so close back then.

I fiddle with the silverware and ask myself, for the hundredth time, why I hadn’t been able to see the real Tanner. Why my instincts hadn’t fired up to protect me.

“Relax.”

I blink. Ciaran’s comment pushes the memories into the far corners of my mind, and I force my lips into a smile. “Sorry, I was miles away.”

“Did you get the apartment you went for?”

I nod. “It’s not exactly a palace.” Understatement of the century. “But it’ll do for now.”

Ciaran’s eyes lock on to mine, and he teases his beard. I force myself not to fidget under his acute gaze.

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