Page 18 of Something Worth Keeping
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m recalibrating my earlier impressions.”
“Recalibrating what?”
“My understanding of courtship behavior. You committed a murder, meticulously cleaned up the scene, then spent three days watching me through my window to make sure I was safe. That’s...” Julian searched for the right word. “Extremely romantic by any reasonable metric. I’m sure it is.”
Cillian moved closer, close enough that the shadows wrapped around both of them now, a cocoon ofprotective darkness. “You think murder is romantic.”
“I think protecting someone you care about from consequences is romantic. The murder was irrelevant to all of this. That was just a practical removal of a societal problem.”
“Julian.” Cillian’s voice dropped to something that resonated in Julian’s chest. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m really not. I’m difficult and pedantic, and people generally find me exhausting.”
“Then they’re fools who don’t deserve your precision.” Cillian’s hand finally made contact - his fingers brushing Julian’s jaw with so much care. “I find you extraordinary.”
Julian’s pulse kicked up into the definitely elevated zone. “We should continue walking, or we’ll be late for your threatened reservation.”
“As you wish.” Cillian’s smile did include a lot of teeth, but it was still heartwarming to see. At least Julian assumed that was what was impacting his heart rate. It could’ve been the being himself.
/~/~/~/~/
Marconi’s was exactly as advertised. There was exposed brick, soft lighting, and the tables spaced far enough apart for private conversation. The hostess took one look at Cillian, and her professional smile went rigid.
“Reservation for two under... Cillian.”
“Yes. This way, please.”
She led them to a corner table with concerning speed considering the height of her heels, her hand shaking slightly as she placed the menus down. Julian noticed she didn’t look directly at Cillian, her gaze skittering away whenever it approached his face.
“Your server will be right with you,” she managed to say before she fled.
“She’s terrified of you,” Julian said, opening his menu.
“Most humans are.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“It’s efficient. Fear creates compliance and distance.” Cillian hadn’t touched his menu. “But you’re not afraid.”
“Should I be?”
“Probably.”
Julian scanned the pasta options, noting the agnolotti with brown butter and sage had a grammatically incorrect description. “You’re a confirmed killer, you’ve stalked me extensively, you exist as a manifestation of cosmic darkness, and your shadows rearrange my apartment while I sleep. If I were going to be afraid, I would have started the first time I saw you.”
“That’s sound reasoning.”
“I specialize in sound reasoning.”
A server approached. He was young and nervous, and determinedly not looking at Cillian’s face. “Welcome to Marconi’s. Can I start you with drinks?”
“Red wine, please,” Julian said. “Whatever pairs with the agnolotti.”
“Excellent choice. And for you, sir?”
Cillian’s shadows rippled. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure? We have an extensive…”
