He instantly takes out another glass, pouring the same amount of amber liquid, and adding an ice ball. All the while his eyes are assessing. I take hold of the drink from his extended arm across the island. He raises his glass to mine, “Sláinte.”
Just then, I notice gray smoke billowing from behind Eamon.
“Is something burning?”
Setting down the glass, he urgently reaches for the cooktop to remove the lid from the skillet, finding the meatballs no more than blackened briquettes at this point. A procession of unintelligible curses pours from his mouth while he turns every knob to its off position. Next, he investigates the sauce which had apparently overheated to a rolling boil. As if this was one of those blundering rom-com moments, the bubbling concoction erupts outward, splattering onto everything in its path… including Eamon.
“Fuck, I’ve ruined suppah!” He faces me with a look of defeat. “Sorry, little fish. Lemme order some Thai.” His entire front, including the once-pristine shirt are covered in a fine spray of scarlet.
I cover my mouth, trying to squelch the laugh, over this usually refined man looking so… normal.
To my surprise he smiles, causing another dimple to appear in his left cheek. There’s two of them?!
Although dinner may not have gone according to plan, he looks at ease. Happy. Like he finally allowed his carefully placed mask to slip away. “I hope I haven’t ruined this night for you.” He stands beside me, towering, even with me upon this extra-tall bar stool.
I have to crane my neck back just to gaze into his eyes. They’re an alluring sage green. Hours could pass, and I would never tire of staring into them. “Of course not. I’m not here to rate your cooking skills, sir.” Holy smokes; this man’s face is all sharp lines and bedroom eyes.
“Oh? Then why are you here, Cindel?” His words are no more than a whisper.
Maybe because we're alone or the smell of burnt meat is going to my head, but I feel bold.
“Well… I’d like to get to know you better,” I propose.
He tilts in and reaches a hand out, only to play with pieces of my bangs that have grown into my vision. We’re only a breath apart.
“I could never tire of those eyes,” he admits as his hand presses gently against my cheek. This close, I can’t miss how his expression drops slightly. How is it possible that someone can switch so quickly between passion and pensive?
My body moves instinctively, attempting to close the narrow gap between us. He smells of whiskey, with a hint of smoke. I should be relishing his scent, but I’m unable to. Thinking back to the way my masked stranger makes me feel. How I want to be wrapped in his black candied flavor.
“I’m going to get changed,” he blurts, immediately withdrawing when we were just a hair’s breadth away from one another.
He strides down the hall, most likely to his bedroom, and I’m finally able to shake myself from this spell-bound state.
What am I doing? I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m conflicted. Lost to the pull of another without a name. I should go, this was a mistake. Standing, I slipped off my heels, and padded down the hall in the direction his figure disappeared. Let me tell Eamon I’d like to go home.
Only one door was ajar in the long hallway. I push past to find a dimly lit room. Dark walls surround a shallow bed; all cast in a familiar crimson glow. Curiosity has me slipping into the room, where I find Eamon shirtless before his closet. Just as I am ready to speak, I find the source of the red light. Inadvertently, I edge toward the glass box, holding what air I already had within my chest. Within the enclosure of plants, I locate a fuzzy creature, almost identical to my Thelma. In the corner of the tarantula’s home is a skull hide, just like I have back in my apartment.
My stomach twists, causing the air to rush from my lungs all at once. An audible noise falls from my lips, just as a hand lands on my shoulder. I spin around to find Eamon, eyebrow raised, and still shirtless. My mouth opens and closes but no words form. That’s when I notice something even more odd than a twin spider in my boss’s home.
On his upper forearm, a stark, black skull with shamrock eyes looks back at me. I’ve seen that before. “There’s something you need to know,” he confesses.
When my brain finally fires up, I spit out. “Why do you have an identical set-up and pet to my brother’s?” The world tips on its axis. Without realizing, I have progressively been backing up… I’m taken off guard when the back of my calves hit soft material and I fall back. I’ve guided myself to his bed.
Eamon now stands positioned between me and the door to his bedroom.
What is happening? What could he possibly need to tell me besides;I’ve been hiding things from you.Oh my god! Does he plan to…?! My heart painfully thunders in my chest. Think! Think! My phone is in the kitchen, but I know Andrea must be listening. If I were in danger, she could help me. Right?
Eamon must have noticed me looking from him to the door. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to… understand some things.” With arms folded, I’m now angry with myself for agreeing to come here in the first place.
“What do you want from me?!”
Then it hits me, how he knows so much about me, why he keeps me close. “Did… did you kill my brother?!”
His features change from soft to jagged in the blink of an eye. His knit eyebrows and curled lips tell me all I need to know. “What?!” He takes a step back.
On shaking legs, I stand and point my finger toward him, “You heard me!”
His jaw begins to tick, as if chewing on something invisible. “I would never hurt Theo,” he says through gritted teeth. “I fucking loved him.”
