Page 205 of Detectives in Love
I bury my face in my hands. “Please stop.”
“Hey, I have to ask. I’m your older sister—if you two are fucking like rabbits, you’d better know about STDs.” She’s grinning like this is the best entertainment she’s had in years. “And judging by that look on your face, you’re not denying it.”
“Mon—”
She relents a little, her voice softening even though the smile doesn’t fade.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s cute! And I never thought I’d see you this…settled. Or this gone.”
“I’m not gone,” I mumble, though my cheeks definitely disagree.
She tilts her head, still smiling knowingly.
“You are. And I like him for you.”
That makes me blink, my pulse jumping straight to my throat.
“You do? I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I never said that.” She snorts. “And I was wrong about him. He’s quiet, intense, a little intimidating—but he clearly adores you. Also, he’s intense in the right way, and you need someone who can match you like that.”
I open my mouth to protest, but no words come out. I just grin at her, flustered, caught between wanting to argue and the ridiculous warmth spreading through me.
The kitchen door opens, and Xavier and Ernest walk back in. They both look like they’ve been through it—faces blank, jaws tight—but there’s also something easier between them now, the kind of truce only family can hammer out in five minutes.Ernest is carrying two wineglasses, and Xavier has another glass and an open bottle.
They come back to the table and sit down without a word, clearly not planning to drag whatever that conversation was into the living room. Monica shoots me a curious look, and I shrug—because honestly, their relationship is still mostly a mystery to me.
As Xavier settles beside me, he takes a long sip of his wine. I nod toward his glass.
“Where’s mine?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
Xavier glances over, then shakes his head. “You can’t. Not with the antibiotics for your leg.”
It takes me a second to catch on—then I laugh. “Right. Thanks. Totally forgot.”
“You could die if you mixed those with alcohol,” he says, completely serious.
“Thanks,” I say again, smiling at him, barely stopping myself from leaning over and kissing him. Shit, the need to touch him is almost unbearable.
The air feels lighter for a moment—until Ernest pointedly clears his throat. All three of us turn to look at him. He’s staring right at me as he says, in a tone way too casual for what’s coming:
“So, Xavier told me you’re getting married.”
I freeze, the smile still on my face but going stiff. Monica gasps. Xavier swears.
“What?” I say, frowning now. “If this is about that interview again—”
“It’s not,” Ernest cuts in. “Xavier just told me.”
Xavier swears again, and I turn to look at him.
He’s gone scarlet, one hand slapped over his face like he’d pay good money to vanish on the spot. I keep looking at him, but he won’t meet my eyes. When he finally peels his hand away, he shoots Ernest a look that could kill and mutters, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Ernest lifts his brows, clearly embarrassed, and shrugs. “You didn’t tell me the groom didn’t know.” His tone is borderline innocent, like this whole mess has absolutely nothing to do with him.
I stare between them, stunned. Sure, Xavier had texted me about marriage last night—when I was still half out of it in the hospital. I thought it was just nerves. Something he said in the moment. Not something he’d actually repeat to his uncle.
“Getting married?” I say at last, lifting an eyebrow at Xavier.
