“Sure,” he said absently, angling the plate to keep the omelet from hitting the table.“Dammit, get in there.”
“Need a hand?”
“No, I’ve got it.”He set the plate aside and closed the lid.“You were saying?”
“Right.”She fiddled with her fork.“Have you guys done this before?”
“Done what?”
“You know.”Feeling foolish for asking, she waved a hand.“Me.”
“Oh.”Understanding dawning, he picked up his freshened coffee.“We have, before.”
“Are you…” she had to search for the word.“Polyamorous?”
“Not how you’re thinking,” he said and put the coffee down.“It’s not something we seek out.We’re committed to each other, Jesse and I.We love each other.”
“I know that.”Forcing herself to relax, to breathe, she worked up a smile.“I can see that.”
“But I guess you could say we’re…open,” he decided.“To the possibility of more.With someone else.”
Her heart was pounding in her chest, echoing in her ears.“Complicated.”
He nodded, the movement slow and thoughtful.“But worth it, with the right person.”
Her breath caught in her throat.There was something in his eyes, something that reminded her of that moment in the shower, in the still and the quiet when she’d felt so whole, so at peace.
“You want anything else, hon?”the server barked, her nasally voice tearing through the moment like claws through tissue paper.
“I’m good,” Chloe managed.
“Just the check, thanks,” Knox said, his eyes still on Chloe.
The server slapped the ticket onto the table and hurried off, and Knox picked it up.“Chloe?You okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”Forcing a smile, Chloe reached for the check.“I’ll get that.”
“No, you won’t.”Check in hand, Knox slid out of the booth, his expression amused.He picked up his to-go box while she scowled at him.“You brought dinner last night, remember?”
“Does that mean you’ll let me get the next one?”she asked.
“No,” he said and strolled up to the register to pay, leaving her scowling after him.
And wondering.
Chapter Fifteen
She drove home by rote, parking in the back lot and climbing the stairs without really thinking about it.The quiet of her apartment was welcoming, the controlled chaos of her worktable a soothing distraction.She buried herself in it, finishing several works in progress and starting new ones, switching on the lamps when the light dimmed, ignoring the cramps in her hands and shoulders.When her eyes grew gritty and her fingers began to fumble with the tools, she shut of her lights and tumbled into bed.
The phone woke her the next morning.
She was tempted to ignore it, but it was Bailey, and ignoring Bailey never led to peace, so she answered it on speaker and set it on the pillow next to her.“What?”
“Well, that’s a silly question,” Bailey replied, sounding ridiculously chipper for—Chloe peeled one eye open to look at the clock—seven-thirty-two in the morning.
“Bailey, it’s seven-thirty-two in the morning,” Chloe complained.“You know I can’t do riddles this early.”
“If you’re too befuddled to figure out why I might be calling you at this ungodly hour, then I have to assume the answer to my question is ‘amazing’.”
