Page 134 of Detectives in Love
Then I unlock my phone and type out a quick message to Xavier.
Me:How are you feeling? I talked to the first witness. Didn’t learn anything useful but got some muffins to go.
I snap a photo of the Tupperware container on my lap and send that too.
I don’t expect a reply so soon, but it comes within a minute.
Xavier:Better. Which witness?
Me:Colfridge,I write back.Heading to the next one now.
Xavier:How old is he/she?
I pause, wondering what that has to do with anything—but with Xavier, who knows.
Me:He’s a he.Not sure. Early fifties? Why?
I frown, watching the screen. Xavier’s typing—then stops. Starts again.
Xavier:Well, he gave you the container
Me:So?
Xavier:Was he coming on to you?
I pause, completely confused.
Me:Erm,I don’t think so. Why?
Xavier:That’s a very old trick, Newt. He gave you the container so you’d have to return it.
I snort at the absurdity—then pause. The guy did say I didn’t have to bring it back, sure, but he also smiled a lot. And gave me his business card. Maybe Xavier has a point. Not that I’d admit it.
Me:I’m not going to return it, if that’s what you’re asking ;)
I brace for something snarky in return. But what I get is…different.
Xavier:I know you’re not. With your plans and all
I frown. What does that mean? Is he still high on diazepam? It seemed like it was already wearing off when I left.
Me:My plans?
Xavier:Well, you promised to marry me
I blink, heat rushing to my face. What?
I start typing—Did you check your temperature?—but before I can hit send, another message pops up.
Xavier:And get a dog together
Oh. My. God.
The second it hits me, my face burns—like someone rubbed chili oil all over it. The fucking paparazzi.
If Xavier’s seen my confession, that means the whole world has too.
I freeze, scrambling for something nonchalant to say. But there’s nothing. Because yeah. I really did say that.
