Page 88 of Detectives in Love
“You’ve got jam on your face.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin, but the red spot was still there, catching my eye.
“No, it’s on your chin.”
He sighed and tried again, this time swiping at his chin—but missed.
So before I could think twice, I leaned across the table and wiped the smudge off his skin with my thumb. Then, without thinking, I licked the jam off my finger.
That’s when our eyes met.
My stomach did a little flip, and I looked away fast, grabbing my tea and taking a long sip, like that would somehow make the moment disappear.
“Is Xavier home?”
Monica’s voice snaps me back to reality. She’s already out of her coat and shoes, looking cozy in her ugly Christmas sweater.
I blink up at her, her puzzled expression still lingering.
“No, it’s just me,” I mumble. “Want some tea?”
“Sure, thanks.”
I keep myself busy brewing Earl Grey while Monica settles at the table, watching me in silence. I can feel her eyes on me, lingering—like she’s trying to read something off me.
To break the awkward quiet, I ask, “So what’s up? Did you want to talk about something, or just missed me?”
“Oh.” She blinks, like she just remembered. “Right. Mom called.”
“Mom?” My stomach tightens. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Monica nods. “She’s been calling a lot lately. I just didn’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?” I frown.
“She’s been asking about you,” Monica says, giving me a look.
“What would she even be asking? We talked last week.” But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize I already know.
“She’s worried,” Monica says with a shrug. “You know how she gets. She reads everything.”
I sigh, already annoyed. “Great. Why didn’t she just call me herself?”
“She’s probably embarrassed. Not about you,” she adds quickly. “More about how she reacted. I think she’s spiraling a bit. She’s convinced you’re following in my footsteps.”
I snort, cheeks warming. “If this is about grandchildren, I’ve told her a million times—I don’t want kids.”
“Well, yeah. But now she thinks you’ve got a male lover, and I guess it’s finally sinking in.”
I roll my eyes. “So what did she want you to do, exactly? You’re a lesbian. You can only be a bad influence.”
Monica laughs. “Well, yeah. But this time she didn’t call to panic. She’s done enough of that already. She actually said she wants you and Xavier over for Christmas.”
“Right,” I snort, pouring her a cup of tea. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“I already told her that,” Monica says. “But still—don’t be surprised if she works up the nerve to actually call you.”
“Okay,” I say.
