Page 57 of Holy Hearts
Kai’s lips twitch, but he stays quiet, his gaze heavy as he traces a slow circle around the rim of his glass with his finger, as though lost in thought—or perhaps, lost in me.
I reach for an empty tumbler in a nearby cabinet, holding it out between them. When I glance up, Kai’s eyes are on me, dark and unreadable, something molten swirling just below the surface. He doesn’t look away as he grabs the whiskey bottle and pours a slow, generous stream into my glass. I bring it to my lips, matching his gaze as I take a long sip, the whiskey warm as it burns a slow path down my throat.
“A woman who enjoys good whiskey is a woman after my own heart,” he murmurs, lifting his glass in a quiet salute before taking a sip himself, his eyes only leaving mine to skim down the apricot-colored sundress I’d thrown on.
I look over at Julian, who’s been watching the exchange with a slow smile and a knowing, familiar glint in his eye. There’s something possessive about his expression, but also… curious.
Like he’s assessing the dynamic between Kai and me.
Like he’s clocking how it develops…studyingus. It’s clearly something more than just a casual interest.
I know what he’s thinking.
The idea sends a shiver down my spine, and I suddenly feel a bit too warm. My pulse starts to flutter, fueled by something beyond just the whiskey.
The tension between the three of us is palpable, filling the silence.
Clearing my throat, I take another, longer drink before setting my glass down. “Right. Who wants to help me with the salad?”
Julian glances over at Kai, a playful edge in his smile. For a beat, neither of them moves, and then Kai slowly rises to his feet.
“I’ll help,” he says, his voice rougher, his eyes lingering on me for a moment too long.
I slide my gaze back to Julian. He watches the two of us, his expression unreadable, but there’s a flash of something in his eyes—something almost approving, or perhaps he’s just a little too entertained. He tilts his head, toasting us with his glass, and takes a slow, deliberate sip, his gaze unwavering.
For the next half hour, Kai helps me with the salad. We default to our old camaraderie, and when the lasagna is ready, he helps me plate it and bring it to the small table near the back window. Tonight feels too informal for the formal dining room, so I grab a couple of bottles of red wine and we all sit down to eat.
Despite Julian’s icy reception to Kai earlier, the two of them seem to be on speaking terms now, even going so far as to discuss old memories of when they were teenagers. I love learning things I didn’t know about my husband—specifically, the quirks that made me fall in love with him in the first place.
“Does he still make piles with his clothes?” Malakai asks, leaning back with his glass of wine.
Julian snorts. “Of course I do.”
I look between them, wondering if Kai knows about Julian’s recent diagnosis, but before I can think any longer on the topic, Julian continues speaking.
“It’s ADHD. I was officially diagnosed last year. You should’ve seen me before I went on medication,” he adds, running a hand through his blond hair.
I place a hand on his leg. “The important thing is thatyoufeel better.”
Julian gives me a warm smile. “It drove Soph up the walls. The piles. The unpaid bills. The forgetfulness, the inability to focus on one thing…”
I squeeze his thigh in solidarity and scrunch my nose in the way I know he adores. “I love you just the way you are.”
Kai’s eyes flit between us as he studies the way Julian brings my hand to his mouth, kissing it once. I hadn’t noticed the sun setting, leaving us alone in the dim light, illuminated only by the romantic candles on the table. But as several beats of silence pass between us, the weight of the evening feels almost oppressive in the dim glow of the flames.
I change the subject to something lighter—something that will calm my racing heart.
“Tell me—did Julian have the same obsession with Cadbury chocolate back when you knew him as he does now? Because the man is a menace when Easter rolls around.”
Kai chuckles, leaning against the counter. “That checks out. He used to hoard them in his dorm room like some sort of treasure hunter.”
“Cadbury’s my one weakness,” he says with mock solemnity. “Well, that and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. Did you know they’re actually illegal in Britain?”
I snort. “Of course you’d love something illegal.”
He lifts his glass in a silent salute, giving me a slow, feline smile. “What can I say? I have a taste for things that shouldn’t be indulged.”
My voice softens, but it comes out too seductive as I roll my eyes. “Oh? Like what?”
