"I knew that would freak you out."
"I'm not freaked out," Killian protested, but even to his own ears, his voice sounded far too high to lend any credibility to his statement. "I'm not," he repeated, deliberately lowering his tone. "I just… you seem older, that's all."
"I get that a lot," she chuckled, leaning back in her seat to allow Carlos to set down a steaming plate of food in front of her. He placed another just in front of Killian, asked if they needed anything else, and then hurried away when they both shook their heads in reply.
"What, uh… what do your parents think about you being here tonight?" Killian asked, because the thought that some strange guy might come looking for him while he was in France had suddenly occurred to him, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to spend the rest of his vacation constantly looking over his shoulder.
"I doubt they care, to be honest," Emma sighed, as she began stabbing aggressively at the pasta on her plate. "My parents abandoned me when I was roughlythree days old. They didn't even care enough to leave me somewhere safe, so I highly doubt they'd object to me enjoying a nice meal with a cute guy, now that I'm legally an adult."
All of his concerns about being out with a woman half his age vanished in an instant as Killian paused to contemplate the full implications of what Emma had said. It took him longer than it should have to connect all of the dots. She'd picked her own name because her parents hadn't given her one. She only knew she was 'roughly' three days old when she'd been found, which meant that she probably didn't even know her true date of birth. And where the hell had these people left their baby?
"I… I'm so sorry, Emma," he said, even though the words felt hollow and empty.
"Why are you sorry?" she asked, raising her eyes to meet his gaze. "You didn't abandon me on the side of a road, and you weren't to know about my past. You have nothing to be sorry about."
"Still… you deserve more than just an apology, Emma. I can't – what kind of person leaves a baby on the side of a road?" he exploded, his voice echoing around the empty space.
"Not a good one," she chuckled bitterly, "And certainly not the kind of person who would have made a good parent, so I figure I'm probably better off this way."
At Killian's disbelieving look, Emma continued, "It's not that bad. I didn't have an awful life, Killian. I just didn't have a truly exceptional one either. I always had clothes and a bed to sleep in at the end of the day. I just never got lucky enough to find a forever home. Now that I'm older, I can see that it's made me into a better person. I learned at an early age that the only way anything was gonna change for me was if I worked hard to ensure that I could change it. And look at me now – I have a really exciting opportunity waiting for me when I get back home, and even if that doesn't work out, I'm studying at Cambridge University. That alone will help me get my foot inside plenty of doors."
Killian offered her a genuine smile as he watched her entire being light-up while she spoke about the opportunities she'd managed to create for herself out of nothing.
"So, when you say Cambridge University," he asked, as he picked up his knife and fork to begin cutting into his steak, "Do you mean a university in Cambridge or the Cambridge University?"
"The Cambridge University," she giggled, as she watched what must have been a complete look of awe fill his eyes.
"Wow. That, uh – that's, um – wow! So you're really smart then?"
"I guess you could say that," she agreed, offering him a cheeky smile. "Thankfully, I don't have to be really smart to know that if you don't start eating soon, your food's gonna go cold, and that steak is already well overdone. If you let it go cold, you'll never be able to chew it."
Killian rolled his eyes playfully and then shoved a large chunk of said steak into his mouth. It was cooked just as he loved it, but he knew that his preference for well-done meat was often met with incredulity by his friends.
"Delicious," he declared, after he'd swallowed it down.
Emma finished her bite of pasta and then took a small sip from her drink before she said, "And just think, if that steak hadn't been cremated before it was served to you, we might have finished eating by now."
"Eat your… slimy green stuff," Killian threw back at her, waving his knife vaguely in the direction of her plate of food.
"It's spinach," she giggled, "Please tell me that you know what spinach is. What kind of school did you attend?"
"I'll have you know that I graduated summa cum laude from Yale University; thank you very much."
Emma made a show of stabbing at her spinach, fitting as much of it onto the tines of her fork as she could before she slowly brought it up to her mouth and then slid the whole thing inside. Killian wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone eat food in such a sensual way before, and certainly not something as disgusting as spinach.
"Was that even English?" she finally asked. "I have no idea what that means."
"It's Latin," he told her, although he had a feeling that she already knew exactly what he'd meant and was simply toying with his ego. "It means I graduated with the highest distinction."
"Yeah, only pretentious people use Latin in the twenty-first century."
"Lots of people use Latin in the twenty-first century!" he protested.
"Pretentious people and lawyers," she threw back at him, ticking the two categories off on her fingers. "As you've already told me you're not a lawyer, I'm forced to conclude that you must fall into the pretentious category."
Killian fumbled for words for a moment, and Emma could hold back her laughter no longer. The snort that broke free was completely unladylike and yet somehow, also completely appropriate for the young woman he was slowly getting to know.
"Eat your damned spinach," he told her, before turning his attention back to his own meal.
The rest of their dinner passed by far too quickly for Killian's liking, and before he knew it, Emma was ordering a cup of coffee to end her evening while he sat in silence, his mind racing.
He still hadn't managed to work out if this was supposed to be a romantic date, and nothing Emma had said or done all evening had given him any clues to work with. Sure, there had been plenty of banter and some flirty looks, but the more Killian spoke with her, the more he began to suspect that those were just a part of her personality and not something she was weaponizing to try and get him into bed.
"Are you sure you don't want anything else?" she asked, as Carlos bought out a white cup on a delicate saucer and set it carefully down in front of her before hurrying off to fetch their bill.
"God, no," Killian protested, "I don't know how you can drink that stuff at –" he quickly shook back his sleeve to check the time on his watch and was a little shocked by the position of the hands. "– Eleven fifty-two and expect to sleep tonight."
The time must have caught Emma off guard too as she reached across the table to grab his hand and pull it towards her face, eyeing the watch in disbelief.
"Wow," she murmured.
Killian wondered if she knew that her thumb was sweeping back and forth over his pulse-point, stoking a rapidly growing fire in the pit of his belly, as she examined the watch face carefully.
When she finally let him go, he was expecting some kind of quip about the lateness of the hour, but instead, Emma only seemed to settle herself more comfortably in her seat to study him carefully over the rim of her cup.
"What's wrong?" he finally asked, unable to take the tension any longer.
"Nothing… I was just wondering how much they pay you guys out in America."
At Killian's confused look, she explained, "I might only be a lowly undergraduate from a broken home, but even I know that Montblanc watches cost roughly half a year's worth of my tuition fees – and that's just for a cheap one."
Killian turned his attention down to the timepiece on his wrist and fiddled with the position of the face. He'd never really given it much thought before. The watch had been a Christmas gift from his mother a few years ago after he'd broken his last one covering a hurricane in Texas. It was something he always put on every morning when he woke up, just like his socks and underwear. He certainly hadn't expected it to out him the way it just had.
"It was a gift," he explained, hoping that would help him avoid any more awkward questions. He had really enjoyed spending his day with Emma, and the last thing he wanted was for her to run away the moment she found out who he really was.
"From your wife?"
"What? No!" he blurted out.
Emma shrugged her shoulders and then set her cup down on the table before she reached for the small chocolate coin that had come with it. "Most men only look that guilty when they're hiding a secret lover somewhere."
"I'm not," Killian assured her. "The watch was a gift from my mom. She's, uh – my parents come from old money."
Emma nodded her head in understanding because they both knew that if his parents had money, that meant Killian did too. "There's no shame in that," she said, before suddenly tossing the coin across the table to him.
Killian was rather proud of the fact that he didn't fumble the catch. "Not everyone thinks that way," he whispered, as he busied himself with unwrapping the chocolate and popping it into his mouth.
"Maybe not," Emma agreed, "But we can't change the circumstances we're born into, so it's pointless being mad at someone for being born into a wealthy family when you're not. I'd rather spend the time and energy on trying to change my own life, personally. I mean, as long as you're not hoarding wealth like Bill Gates, I don't see a problem with it."
"You're not a Bill Gates fan, then?" he asked, as Emma drained the last of her drink and Carlos suddenly reappeared once more with their check. Killian had handed over his credit card before she could even get a look at their bill.
"I can afford dinner," she pointed out.
"Oh, I know. But this one's on me. You can get breakfast tomorrow."
"Breakfast?" she asked, raising a brow in question. "Someone's being a little presumptuous, aren't they?"
Killian's face suddenly felt hotter than the sun as he realized the true implication behind his words. "I, uh – I mean – I didn't – I wasn't –"
"I know," she chuckled, finally putting him out of his misery. "I just enjoy seeing that look of complete and utter mortification on your face."
Emma fished inside her small purse and pulled out a couple of colorful notes, which she set down on top of the saucer her coffee had been brought out on, and then weighed them down with the empty cup.
"You must be having fun with that today," Killian grumbled, as Carlos returned with the card machine and then handed over his receipt.
"Oh, I have been," Emma agreed, shooting him a cheeky wink as she pushed back her seat to stand from her chair.
Killian waited for Carlos to step away from their table before he stood up to join her. He wasn't quite ready for the night to end, but another glance at his watch showed that it was already midnight, and the café would probably be closing for the day soon.
"Can I walk you back?" he offered, while Emma lingered by his side.
"I suppose so," she sighed heavily.
Killian rolled his eyes at her antics as he fell into step beside her while they made their way off the premises and down the small lane.
With every step they took, he found his anxiety growing. He still didn't know if this had been a date, so he wasn't entirely sure if she would be expecting him to invite her back for drinks – or something else – when they made it to their holiday homes. He also wasn't entirely sure if he should be holding her hand or offering his arm, and Emma's face was beautifully neutral as she walked along in comfortable silence beside him.
The short journey back to the street their houses were located on seemed to take even less time than usual that evening, and before Killian knew it, they were slowing their steps as his temporary home came into view.
"This is me," Emma said suddenly, shattering the silence around them and making him jump slightly.
Killian turned his head to focus his attention on the spot she was pointing at, and then barked out a sharp laugh as a random thought floated through his mind.
This time, it was her turn to ask, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I just um… I just realized that this was the house I originally tried to book," he explained, looking up at the slightly larger building standing adjacent to his own. "It looks like it has a much better view than mine does."
"I know," Emma said, and then she leaned in a little closer to whisper, "That's why I booked it."
Killian snorted out another soft laugh as the two of them stood together in the darkness, simply watching each other. It was when they both fell silent that everything between them seemed to shift and become painfully awkward. Killian didn't know what had changed, but he knew that he didn't like it. He wanted the old, comfortable atmosphere back. He wanted that ability to talk to Emma about almost anything for hours on end without noticing the time that had passed. But instead, he was faced with an uncomfortable and unknowing silence.
"Thanks for joining me for dinner," he finally offered, when Emma began fiddling with her purse to pull out a set of keys.
"Thanks for paying."
"It was nothing," he explained, waving away her words.
Emma nodded her head firmly and then cast a look back over her shoulder at her front door.
Something in Killian's brain chose that moment to scream at him that he needed answers, and he found himself suddenly blurting out, "Was this a date?" into the silence of the night.
That silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity before Emma finally asked, "Did you want it to be a date?"
"I, uh… I don't know," he replied honestly.
"Well, when you decide, let me know," she told him, before leaning in to brush her lips softly over his stubbled cheek. "Good night, Killian."
And just like that, she was gone, leaving him standing and staring at the front door she'd closed behind her, as he pondered over the meaning of her words once again.
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