Page 65 of Keep Me

Trying to force myself into a sense of normalcy, I start making coffee, but I can feel the tremble in my hands. As I’m filling the pot with water, a warm hand touches my back.

“What’s wrong?”

I shrug his hand off. “Nothing.”

“I said thank you for the gloves,” he replies defensively.

“I know you did. I said I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. “Is this about what happened last night?”

Glancing up at his face, I pinch my eyebrows together. “Of course not. We didn’t even have sex, Killian. I’m not going to get all clingy on you.”

Without replying, he arches a brow at me. Feeling his gaze on my face makes me even more uncomfortable.

“Stop staring at me!” I snap before taking the water to the coffeepot.

As soon as I set it down, I let out a sigh. It’s like I can suddenly hear myself, and I sound neurotic.

Holding on to the counter, I let my head hang. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He responds with a soft exhale. “It’s Christmas, Sylvie. You’re homesick, and I’ve not seen you talk to your family once since you got here.”

I let out a huff and laugh. “And I likely never will.”

He takes a step forward. “No one? Not even a friend?”

“My best friend was sleeping with my boyfriend, so no. Not even a friend.”

“Sylvie…”

I hate the pity in his voice. I hate the attention. It makes me want to scream.

“You have us. You’re not alone.”

“Yes,” I bark, slamming my hand on the counter. Then I turn toward him and let out all of the frustration boiling inside me. “Yes, I am, Killian. You’re not my family or my friends. You’re not my husband, and you know it. So can we juststoppretending for one second?”

His expression of sympathy morphs into contempt. “Are we pretending, Sylvie?”

I glower at him. “Of course we are. None of this is real.”

When he only responds with a patronizing nod, I fight the urge to slug him. Why is he trying to push my buttons on Christmas? Why must he be so smug and difficult and handsome and likable?

Who gave him permission to stop being that ignorant prick he was when I first showed up?

“Fine, Sylvie. I’ll stop pretending.”

He folds his arms in front of himself and the room grows silent as we stare at each other. There’s something about the way he just said that that’s making me doubt the sincerity.

“You were pretending…weren’t you?” I ask carefully.

He takes a long menacing step toward me. “Of course I was. You mean nothing to me, remember?”

My teeth clench as I fight the sting of those words. Feigning indifference, I scoff loudly, but he only takes another step closer. “I don’t believe you,” I reply.

“And I mean nothing to you, right? That’s why you bought me those gloves.”

Pressing my hands to his chest, I apply force as I stare up at him in shock. “You’re the most insufferable asshole—”

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