Fortified by her resolve, she went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Today was Monday. She had work, she had purpose, and she felt a lot less helpless than she had the night before.

The door opened, and Conor walked in with Kirra. He had a grocery bag in one hand. He unsnapped her leash, and the dog trotted to Louisa for a head rub.

“Has she eaten?” Louisa asked.

“No.” Conor walked into the kitchen and kissed her. “We’re going to have scrambled eggs.” He unloaded eggs, milk, and bread onto the counter. Then he took out a frying pan and went to work on breakfast with the efficiency of a short-order cook. Ten minutes later they were eating eggs and toast at the island.

Kirra sniffed the eggs with little interest, went to the corner, and curled up in the dog bed.

“Her appetite doesn’t seem to be improving.” Louisa pushed her own breakfast away half-eaten, but she doubted the dog’s appetite was affected by worry.

“I’m going to take her back to the vet today. She doesn’t act sick, but she isn’t behaving normally either.” Conor frowned from the dog’s nearly full plate to Louisa’s. “You’re not hungry?”

“Not really.”

“How do you feel?” He turned her head to examine her jaw. “Your bruise is turning a nice shade of green.”

“Terrific. I’m definitely less stiff today, and I think I can do without the Band-Aids on my hands.” She paused. “I remember everything about last night.”

“I knew you would.” His eyes sparked with fierce possessiveness that heated her blood. “I want to track Blaine down and pummel his face.”

“But you don’t think less of me?”

“God, no. Why would I? What I feel for you has nothing to do with anything that happened to you in the past.” He locked gazes with her. His was unyielding. “But I wish you would have told me earlier. I would have been more careful with you.”

Frustration bubbled into Louisa’s throat. “I don’t want more care. I want normal. I want you to treat me like a normal, whole person. If you want to take me standing up against the elevator wall, then I want you to do that without worrying about hurting me.”

“I wasn’t talking about sex. I meant I would have understood why you find it hard to trust. But you are a normal, whole person.” He swiveled his stool to face her squarely.

She didn’t break eye contact. “I’m broken inside. I can’t connect with people.”

“Really?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Then what’s happening between us? Is this all in my head?” He motioned between them.

Her heart skipped. “No.”