Well Suited (Red Lipstick Coalition #4)(14)

I wondered, as I had many, many times, what would happen to the house. Rin was on the Upper East with her fiancé, who was the heir to an obscene fortune and curator at The Met. Val was all but living with Sam a few blocks away, his money not only his, but accrued from his wealthy, intellectual parents. And Amelia was married to a famous writer, the same one who employed Theo, his twin, to run his business for him.

And with me moving in with him, the house would be empty.

I hated the thought of it empty.

As much as I would prefer Theo move in with me, I knew it was impossible. Not only was the property not mine to claim, but Theo helped take care of his mother, who had rapidly progressing Parkinson’s. She needed him. And the house I’d lived in for years, I supposed, would return to the hands of Amelia’s parents for sale or rental.

The thought made me uncomfortable. But change always did.

And this week seemed to be full of it.

I sighed against my discomfort, flowing west with the stream of people leaving Bryant Park for the subway. My speech had been prepared along with a list of rules and requirements I had. I’d written it longhand, watched each precisely written letter form, and the effect, as anticipated, was committed to memory. But I was uneasy regardless.

I knew my friends and could gauge their reactions in advance. But Theo was largely an enigma to me. I had no idea his thoughts or reactions, no context for how he would accept or reject my requirements. My upper hand was in my steadfast stubbornness, and I knew I could rely on that to maintain my boundaries.

I’d cross my fingers, if I believed in magic.

The subway was packed, the scent of metal and bodies and the combating aromas of various street foods an assault on my senses. But I controlled even those with the help of noise-canceling headphones and a book to use as blinders. I had Vicks in my bag too, just in case the smell was too much.

I was nothing if not prepared.

Jane Eyre was as brilliant as it had been the other eighteen times I read it. It made for excellent subway reading. I knew every word, so nothing was lost, only a replay of events in comforting repetition. By the time I exited the train, Jane was on her way to Thornfield Hall, and my task lay before me.

The declaration of acceptance I was about to give would shift the course of my life almost as deeply as Thornfield Hall would for Jane. It was acknowledgment and action of the imperceptibly magnanimous change that the child would bring. And though I knew it was inevitable, part of me—a large, loud part—wasn’t ready.

But I had eight weeks to warm to the idea. With some time and patience, I believed I could do it.

If nothing else, I believed I could make myself do it. And that was enough for me.

I stood for a fortifying moment on his stoop, reciting my list once again for good measure. And then I knocked.

The door opened almost immediately, the doorway framing the imposing sight of Theodore Bane.

He was all darkness, from his seemingly black eyes and hair, the cut of his hard jaw and the exactly masculine proportions of his olive face. The only light was behind his eyes, a spark of mirth that found its way into the corner of his mouth as it rose.

“Kate. You came.”

My head tilted in confusion. “I told you I would.”

A soft chuckle. “So you did. Please, come in.”

I detected something in his voice, nerves perhaps. A touch of disbelief, which confounded me. If I said I’d do something, I did it without wavering. I reminded myself he didn’t know me, which oddly made me feel both better and worse.

When I passed him, I caught his scent again, crisp and clean and familiar. My salivary glands opened up and let loose.

The door closed behind me, and when my bag was hanging on a hook in the entry, I felt his hands on my shoulders, hooking my jacket to help me out of it.

I swore, I’d know those hands in the dark, a thought that surprised and intrigued me.

“Thank you for seeing me this afternoon,” I said as he hung my jacket.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

The purpose of my visit niggled aggressively at my mind, and so, without pretending pleasantries, I got to it.

“I would like to discuss the arrangement you proposed. After giving it some thought—”

He turned on his heel, his face composed but tight at the edges—his eyes, his lips, his jaw. “Before you say no, hear me out.”

I opened my mouth to inform him I wasn’t planning on saying no, but I didn’t have the chance.

He took me by the arm to guide me into the house, launching into a speech he seemed to have prepared as devoutly as I had mine.

“I know how crazy this all is, no matter how logical it seems. But I want to show you around, let you get a feel for things before you decide. Will you let me?”

I made the mistake of looking up at him as we headed for the stairs, and for a moment, I was caught by surprise. I searched for the line delineating his pupil from his iris, leaning in when I couldn’t discern the two. It was exquisite, the velvety black, the bottomless depth. There—I caught his pupil dilate, the motion indicating that edge I’d been looking for but couldn’t find.

I noted his worry, and the knowledge that this meant so much to him struck me in a soft place in my chest.

“Of course,” was the only answer I could give.

Relief softened his face, and up the stairs we went.

“I wanted you to see the setup upstairs. We knew I’d be living with Ma for the foreseeable future, and she insisted I make a separate space for myself. I thought she was crazy. In fact, I’ve never cooked in my kitchen, not once. My guest bedroom has never been used. But that’s a mom for you. They know things.”