Undiscovered – James Morrison
I'm not running, I'm not hiding.
.
It's taken so long for her to reach this point.
It has.
She could count the days, but that's a stall tactic.
A waste of her time, so she knocks.
And he answers.
"Kate?" he greets her, "what's wrong? Why are you here?"
Well he could have at least said hello before he asked her a barrage of questions.
"Hey," she chirps, smiling despite the desperate want, need, to roll her eyes at him.
"Kate, why-"
"I found something." It's half the truth, kind of. It's more she realised something, but that will give her away. Stop this game before it starts.
"Well then… You need to tell me because I don't follow," he hedges. Apparently he's happy to play.
She smiles wider at him now and moves toward him, stepping into the entrance to his loft, shoving the coat she shrugged off in the elevator at him and sliding her flats off her feet, flicking them away, under the table with the other shoes, his shoes.
She watches him raise his eyebrows, curious.
"Nothing's wrong," she announces softly.
"Huh?" The furrow in his brow is cute, she wants to smooth it over with her thumb, but she doesn't.
"There is nothing wrong." She flicks her eyes behind him, scanning his kitchen and living room, finding his mother and daughter watching them from the kitchen. She turns her attention back to him and finds he followed her gaze, turned to meet their eyes too.
She pokes his chin, stealing his focus back. "Absolutely no reason for me not to be here."
She watches him open and close his mouth.
"Be here?" he asks softly.
"Dinner," she explains. "You offered," she swallows, "so I've come, a little late," she admits, "but I'm here."
He shifts, notices him curl his shoulders a little, tense and guarded. "I invited you for dinner a week ago. You were too busy, you-"
"I was stalling," she admits, finds his wrist with her fingers, meeting his eyes to apologise.
"So now you're inviting yourself?" He's trying for mad, coming off a little gruff. But he's not really, not in reality. He's just shocked, caught off guard. He didn't expect this.
Not now.
She has barely spoken to him, not really, sure she's spent every day with him. But since he offered she come after their case, a week ago, she'd withdrawn, taken a step back.
"Yes." She watches him swallow.
"You could have-"
She nods, agreeing. He'd left an hour before her, not bothering to insist he'd stay for the paperwork, not bothering to insist she go home herself, let alone come with him.
"But I'm here."
"You're here." He nods, a compromise.
"Can I stay?" she asks quietly, realising he hasn't let her past him yet.
He steps closer. "Yes," he whispers. "But next time," she swallows (of course there will be a next time), "I want you to bring the wine – last time I had to restock the rack." He raises a brow, teasing.
She smirks. This she can do. "Next time I'll bring wine."