Page 152 of Detectives in Love
And then he says it.
“That I’m fucking in love with you.”
I go still. Like something in me just shut down. “You—what?”
“And you laughed.”
“What?” I murmur, stunned.
For a few seconds, we just stare at each other in the dim light, another flash outside cutting through the silence.
I’m confused. Happy. Not even sure I’ve fully processed what he said.
Then, suddenly, Xavier turns away.
“I want to be alone,” he says, quiet. Worn out.
“You know I was drunk off my ass that night, right?” I say, ignoring everything else.
He doesn’t respond—just stands there, arms crossed, staring out the window.
“I don’t remember anything. So if I laughed—I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
He still doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. So I keep going.
“Also, telling someone you’re in love with them while they’re blackout drunk might not have been your best strategic move,” I add, snorting weakly, trying to break the tension.
Xavier finally turns to look at me—but he doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches me for a second, like he’s working through something.
Then he says, “So you don’t remember any of it?”
“No, I don’t,” I say, a little embarrassed.
“And you don’t remember kissing me? Or hitting on me?”
“No,” I say, blinking. “Wait—did something else happen?”
“No,” Xavier says quickly. “Other than me telling you I love you, you laughing in my face, and then trying to have sex with me.”
“Oh…God,” I mutter, my face going hot. “I’m sorry.”
His arms fold tighter across his chest. “Don’t pity me,” he says, turning away again. I can hear it—the hurt he’s trying to hide.
“I’m not,” I say—and to my own surprise, I let out a quiet laugh. Not because it’s funny. Just because my heart’s kind of exploding. “Why would I pity you?” I say softly.
Xavier looks at me again, cautious now, like he’s bracing for whatever comes next.
Something lifts in my chest—light, warm.
“Come here,” I say. “Please. I can’t exactly chase you down with this leg.”
He hesitates, just for a beat, then climbs back into bed. I pull him in right away—no hesitation, not after what he just told me.
We lie there, face to face. I wrap my arms around him, and he closes his eyes, still not looking at me. I reach up, brush his cheek, my fingers tracing the scratch of his stubble.
“So all of this…that was really you?” I whisper, still not quite believing it.
“If you’re about to ask again…” Xavier mutters, eyes still closed, a flicker of annoyance in his voice.
