OUR LITTLE SECRET

Part 22

Monday came around quickly and, at around 6 o'clock, just after you had gotten home from university, Cillian arrived at your doorstep, ready to tackle the cot assembly head-on.

After greeting him with a warm hug, you led him upstairs to Baby Mara's nursery, your heart pounding with anxiety. You wanted to create the perfect space for your little girl, but you were afraid that your efforts would fall short.

"Have you done anything with this yet?" Cillian queried, glancing around the room. He appeared hesitant, his gaze darting nervously towards the mountain of the opened up flat-packed boxes piled high on the floor.

"I haven't touched any of these. I promise," you chuckled, your cheeks reddening slightly as you handed him the instruction manual.

"Fuck, these things are confusing, aren't they?" Cillian muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing in concentration as he scrutinized the instruction manual and placed some of the boards on to the floor as indicated.

"What? Are you saying that you can't figure out a simple set of instructions?" you teased, a spark of amusement dancing in your eyes while you watched Cillian trying hard to assemble the bottom part of the cot.

"Hey, I'm trying here," Cillian protested, his eyes flashing defensively. "This stuff is more complicated than it seems," he argued, squinting at the diagrams intently.

"How many fucking panels are there supposed to be anyway?" he cursed, his frustration escalating.

"I don't know, but let's start building," you proposed eagerly, eager to bring your vision to life. "Are you sure you can handle this?" you joked, your laughter filling the room.

"Of course, I've got this," Cillian asserted confidently, his gaze sweeping over the myriad of components scattered across the floor. "I've assembled far more complex things before," he boasted, his voice thick with bravado.

"Now where is that silver L-shaped thing?" Cillian groaned, running his hands through his hair impatiently. "I swear, this is like finding a needle in a haystack!" he grumbled, tossing aside a handful of bolts and screws in frustration.

Your eyes widened as you watched him throw pieces haphazardly onto the floor, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.

"You mean the Allen key?" you questioned, arching an eyebrow at Cillian in feigned confusion.

"Yeah, the screwdriver thing they include in those packs, Cillian clarified, scanning the pile of parts on the floor in search of the elusive tool.

"It's called an Allen key" you laughed, watching him scramble through the mess before, finally, finding what he was looking for.

"Right," Cillian echoed, attempting to regain composure. He turned his attention back to the instructions, scrutinizing the diagram carefully. "I believe we need to attach Panel B to Panel G," he suggested, pointing at the paper.

"Or maybe it's the other way around?" he murmured, squinting at the illustration doubtfully.

"Oh, dear," you stifled a giggle, noticing the perplexed expression on Cillian's face. "This is harder than it looks, right?" you teased, nudging him playfully.

"You're absolutely right," Cillian grunted, struggling to fit the panels together. "These damn pieces just don't seem to want to cooperate," he grumbled, his frustration mounting.

The atmosphere in the room crackled with palpable tension, and you found yourself biting your lip to suppress a laugh.

"Here, let me help," you offered, moving closer to Cillian. Your skin brushed against his, igniting a spark of desire that both of you desperately tried to ignore.