Page 204 of Detectives in Love
“Let’s eat,” I say, nodding toward the table, and the four of us take our seats.
We spend the next couple of minutes passing around chopsticks and wasabi packets before finally digging in.
The second the salmon hits my tongue, I realize just how starving I was. So for the next ten minutes, I barely say a word—just listen to everyone else talk (well, mostly Monica and Ernest, who are firing off questions at Xavier about Bernard and what went down in the café) while I inhale as much sushi as I can reach.
Turns out, Ernest already knows a lot about the case. I’m guessing that has something to do with him being in touch with Willand. That’s how we spend the next hour—and just as I’m starting to think I might actually burst from all the sushi, Ernest suddenly turns to me, his expression going serious.
He sets down his chopsticks, swallows, then says, “Chief Willand told me you saved Xavier’s life.”
I blink, caught off guard. Monica turns too, staring at me with sudden interest.
“It was the vest,” I say, shaking my head, already hoping to move on. “That’s what saved him.”
But Ernest doesn’t buy it. He nods slightly, his voice quieter as he says, “Thank you.”
It’s simple, but there’s real weight behind it—more emotion than I’ve ever heard from him. Then, almost solemn, he adds, “I know Xavier loves you. So you’re part of the Ormond family now.”
Before I can even process what he said, Xavier reacts. He shoots Ernest a glare sharp enough to kill, his face going beet red.
“Please stop,” Xavier mutters through gritted teeth, clearly mortified.
I glance at him—pointed, a quiet reminder of our deal. He holds my gaze for a beat, then lets out a rough sigh, like he’s shoving the anger down.
Under the table, I slide my hand into his and squeeze, grounding him. He exhales, squeezing back.
“Thank you,” I tell Ernest, my face a little flushed. He nods at me, as if he’s just done something important.
The table goes quiet for a second, the sushi all but forgotten. Then Xavier clears his throat, still blotched red across the cheeks.
“Ernest,” he says, clipped. “Come help me with the wine in the kitchen.”
I duck back to my plate, hiding a smile. It’s transparent as hell—he doesn’t care about the wine, just wants a word alone. Still, I can’t help finding the effort kind of endearing, clumsy as it is.
With them gone, the room feels easier. Monica pops another piece of sushi into her mouth, then turns to me with that big-sister blend of warmth and worry.
“Mom and I were so worried about you,” she says, finally letting out the breath she’s probably been holding since she walked in. “She’s called me like a hundred times already, totally worked up. She wanted to come herself, but I talked her out of it.”
“Thank God,” I mutter—then add, because I can’t help it, “Xavier kind of wants to meet her, though. Which is…weird.”
Monica blinks, then laughs outright, incredulous.
“You’re together, right?”
Heat rushes to my face. I nod, feeling it burn.
“And he’s serious about you.”
I nod again, flustered. She leans over the table and hugs me tight.
“I’m so happy for you,” she murmurs into my shoulder. “I never thought I’d see you this in love.”
My face burns hotter, and I duck my head, unable to stop the smile tugging at my mouth. Monica pulls back from the hug, still smiling, but her eyes are already gleaming with mischief.
“So,” she says, lowering her voice like she’s letting me in on a secret, “did you two…?”
My face goes hot. “Monica.”
She laughs, delighted. “I knew it! Oh my God, you did. Are you being safe?”
