Page 127 of Fifth Avenue Fling

“Clodagh?” I shout as I enter the kitchen. I hear noise coming from upstairs.

Coming back from work unexpectedly is becoming a habit. I tell myself today’s trip is because I forgot my phone.

On the island counter are two bouquets, which weren’t here when I left for work this morning, and the cards are open.

Mildly curious, I grab one and read it.

Happy birthday, Clodagh, from Sam and the security team.

Hold up, it’s her birthday today? My jaw clenches. Why on earth didn’t she tell me?

I pick up the second card. When I see it’s from the Irish idiot who tried to kidnap her, my temperature rises further.

Why are all these men sending her flowers?

Why the hell did she tell everyone but me it was her birthday?

“Hi, Killian,” comes a soft Irish voice behind me.

I turn almost defensively. “Clodagh,” I say, gruffer than I meant to. “It’s your birthday today?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, quickly pulling her hair up into a bun as she passes me to get to the sink.

I stand there stiffly, watching her load the dishwasher. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, heat creeping into my voice.

She pulls a weird face and shrugs. “I didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

Mygaze moves toward the flowers on the counter.“But everyone else seems to know about it.”

She shrugs again, like she has no explanation for that.

“I don’t want you working today.”

She stops loading dishes for a moment and searches my face. “Killian, you’re supposed to say happy birthday. You sound kinda mad.”

“I’m…” Iammad.

I don’t say that.

She turns back to the dishes, and I stand there, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. I want to take her in my arms and tell her I’ll give her the world today.

“Happy birthday,” I eventually say, though my voice sounds strange. “What are you doing to celebrate?”

“Nothing glam,” she answers easily. “I’m going out for dinner at a cool place in Brooklyn that has rave reviews, then we’re heading over to the pub I used to work at in Queens. Funny how I’ve been missing it lately.”

“Go ahead and use the credit card for whatever you want. You deserve it.”

Her gaze meets mine for the first time since I questioned her about her birthday. “Sure. That’s very kind of you, Killian.”

Is it my imagination, or does she look hurt?

“Have a good time,” I say in a neutral tone, then I slip away upstairs to get my phone so I don’t have to witness the disappointment on her face anymore.

And maybe so she can’t see mine.

***

“Put the damn phone away, Teagan,” I grumble, pouring too much salt on my steak. I’ve trained myself not to say princess, although it’s slipped out a few times. “You know it’s not allowed at the dinner table.”

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