Kathleen was quiet for a moment, then said, “The part where you made that man stop talking.”
Marise gave a soft, amused breath. “I’m happy to do it again.”
Kathleen stopped walking. She turned to face Marise, something unreadable flickering in her expression.
The city seemed to exhale around them—cooler now, less gilded.
Marise however, was beginning to mildly panic. The night hadn’t turned out how she planned. She hadn’t learned a blessed thing about Kathleen’s research. She had thought they might have had a chance to quietly talk when the dancing started, but that oaf, Greg had put an end to that. Kathleen was coiled up tightly as a spring.
“Would you like to go somewhere for a cup of coffee,” she asked hopefully.
Kathleen turned to look at her in surprise. “Oh. I thought I only paid for you to be with me for the dinner.”
Marise looked at her, disconcerted. She felt like a package from the supermarket—bought and paid for until her used-by date. “No. The night’s still young.”
Kathleen slid her eyes away, “I’ll have to get to bed. The plants must be monitored every two hours and I have the early shift. My assistant doesn’t come in until noon.”
Marise swallowed her disappointment and plastered on a bright smile. “No worries. I’d better get you home then.”
She had no more spoken the words, when the cab pulled up at the curb.
They were quiet on the way home. Kathleen had withdrawn into herself and Marise wondered what she’d done wrong. Perhaps she had been too attentive. Strangely, she had genuinely enjoyed being Kathleen’s protector; there was something about the reclusive scientist that interested her. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly, but she knew underneath thatshy exterior, there was an intelligent woman who needed to be encouraged out of her shell. Though she had no idea if she could win her confidence back.
All too soon, the cab pulled up in front of the apartment block, and with a hurried, “thank you, Veronica,” Kathleen was out the door.
Marise watched her fit her key into the lock, and disappear inside without a backward glance.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kathleen closed the door behind her and leaned against it, eyes shut, heart thudding. Her hand hovered on the lock a moment before she twisted it into place. The deadbolt clicked into position with a sharp snap that made her flinch.
She stood there for a long time, still in her heels, unsure what to do with herself. The silence was suffocating. Her breath was too loud, her face was burning, her chest tight. She felt totally mortified. She'd barely looked at Veronica when she got out of the cab. Hadn’t even said goodbye properly. Only a muttered “thank you” and then she’d fled.
Fled.
Kathleen pressed her knuckles to her lips as the shame came in waves. Veronica had been nothing but kind and thoughtful. And Kathleen had acted like... like some socially stunted recluse, which, she supposed, wasn’t far from the truth. She hadn’t known what to do with Veronica’s warmth. With her quiet attention and the way that she looked after her.
Kathleen kicked off her heels too hard, and heard one thud into the wall. She didn’t go to pick it up, simply walked numbly into the kitchen, and filled a glass with water.
She felt ridiculous.
She’d rehearsed the night in her head so many times—what she’d say, how she’d sit, when she’d laugh. None of it had mattered when Veronica looked at her. When shereallylooked at her. Not like a scientist. Not like a curiosity, but like a person.
No one had done that in a long time.
Kathleen sat on the edge of the couch and took a sip of water, her hands cradling the glass as an anchor. The city lights flickered against the windows, blurred slightly through the sting of tears.
What was wrong with her?
She should have gone with Veronica to have that cup of coffee. But she hadn’t, and she should have invited her to stay for tea, or sit a while, not to leave so soon. The words had caught in her throat, strangled by old fears she didn’t know how to turn off.
She hadn’t meant to shut Veronica out, she simply didn’t know how to let her in.
Kathleen stared out the window at the sprawl of New York, feeling an idiot and full of things she didn’t have the language for. Veronica had been so composed, so confident, but not arrogant. She hadn’t made her feel stupid once. She’d protected her from the people at the table, not because she was paid to, but because it seemed to matter to her that Kathleen was comfortable.
No one had ever done that before.
Kathleen curled her legs up beneath her, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes until stars danced behind her lids. She had ruined it, and she didn’t even know whatitwas.
