My body instantly tenses as every worst-case scenario plays through my mind.
“Ciara?” I yell, my voice echoing through the kitchen.
Abandoning my coffee, I leave the kitchen and do a full sweep through the house on the off chance she’s locked herself away in the media room or something, but I still come up empty.
She’s not here.
“Where the hell are you,Tine Bhaeg?”
A sense of panic builds in my chest as I head back into the kitchen and out into the garage to check that she hasn’t gone all Grand Theft Auto on me, but every one of my vehicles is still present, which means wherever she went, she went on foot.
It seems I have no choice but to wait her out.
I sit at the kitchen table, drumming my fingers against the surface as I glance yet again at the clock on the wall. Though with each minute that passes with still no sign from Ciara, my sense of panic grows.
I keep trying to tell myself that she just needs some time to cool off and clear her head, but as the morning wears on, the more unease tugs at my chest.
What if something has happened to her?
I’m unlocking my phone and opening up my call list to dial Callum’s number to see if she’s gone home when the front door creaks open.
The relief that hits me is damn near overwhelming, but I force myself to remain seated at the table with a blank expression, trying my hardest not to look like a man who was two seconds away from losing his shit.
The sounds of her footsteps crossing the foyer quicken my pulse. When she finally appears, dressed in leggings and a tank top with her cheeks flushed and her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, I dig my nails into my palms as I fight the urge to go to her and wrap her in my arms.
Her green eyes find mine, and I swallow a curse at how wary she is of me. Like I’m a bomb that could go off at any moment. Not that I can blame her for thinking such things after my little performance this morning.
I jerk my chin toward the kitchen table. "Sit."
She hesitates briefly before crossing over to the table and slowly dropping into the chair across from me. She immediatelyfolds her arms over her chest like armor, as if bracing herself for an explosion.
I guess I deserve that.
When I’m sure she’s not going anywhere, I get to my feet and walk to the coffee machine, where a fresh pot has just finished brewing.
Her eyes burn into my back as I pull out a fresh mug and pour her a cup, adding some vanilla creamer that I had the housekeeper pick up from the store. But the moment I turn around, her gaze is locked on the table.
“Here.” I place the cup of coffee in front of her.
Her eyebrows immediately shoot up as she stares at the mug. "You’ve never made me a coffee before. You don’t even know how I like it."
I smirk as I sit back down. "Take a sip."
She narrows her eyes at me, but she uncrosses her arms from around herself and lifts the cup to her lips and tastes it.
Surprise flashes across her face for a brief moment before she can stop the reaction, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
"You look like a vanilla latte kind of girl,” I shrug.
She doesn’t respond, and silence settles between us.
I have to be the one to break it, but the apology tastes like poison on my tongue.
I force the words out anyway. "I may have...overreacted."
She sets her mug on the table, keeping her fingers interlaced around it as she lifts her gaze to meet mine. Then she lowers her eyes to the cup in her hands.
I let out a long sigh as I lean back in my chair. "In hindsight, I could have waited until morning."
