“I’ll be right out,” I replied. My heart squeezed uncomfortably as I battled with how I would face him in the morning light. I couldn’t pretend last night hadn’t happened. I’d wanted it. And now Caliban’s parting message about theend of the world would be the last thing on my mind before I confronted the fallen angel.
I brushed my teeth and scrubbed my face in the en suite bathroom. I’d barely shimmied into a pair of bikini-cut buttons when Silas called again. Maybe I was annoyed. Maybe I was trying to punish him, or Caliban, or myself. But I wouldn’t be rushed in my own house. I grabbed an off-the-shoulder sweater from the back of my chair and slipped it over my head as I opened the door. Bare feet, ass cheeks out, braless, and with a loosely knit sweater covering half of my body, I strutted into the kitchen.
Silas slammed his mouth shut.
“Do you know how I take it?” I stepped up to him, barely an arm’s length away.
He blinked down at me, cogs behind his eyes working as he struggled for words.
“My coffee. Hot, dark, and sweet. I take it with honey. If you’re going to be the coffee bitch, you should at least get my order right.” I reached around him, snatching the French press from his hand and pouring myself a cup. I dipped a spoon into the honeypot, then watched it melt from the metal as it sweetened the dark liquid.
He leaned against the counter. Broad, muscled shoulders stretched the thin white T-shirt over his chest, which made it so much easier to see his uneven breathing. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly as he said, “Marlow…about last night…”
My swagger evaporated. I’d hoped to confront this with levity. But he’d undoubtedly smelled the rush of moss and mist and gin the moment Caliban had appeared.
He must have also sensed my deer-in-the-headlights rigidity, because he spoke before I was forced to break the silence. His voice was soft as he said, “I know you’re always going to choose him.”
I met the golden halo of his eyes. Softly, I said, “I want to say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t regret it either.”
He wrapped his arms around me and let the moment linger. It was a balm to our open wounds that required no words. At our core, whatever we were…we cared about each other. Its soft, warm, sweet healing was the only thing that paired better with my coffee than honey.
