Page 61 of Detectives in Love
“Is there something else you wanted?”
“Yes,” Ernest says, finally pulling his gaze off me.
“Say it.”
Then, as if continuing a conversation he’d already started in his head, Ernest says, “She asked about you. Wanted to know when you’d stop by.”
Xavier’s mouth twists, unimpressed. “You were never good at lying.”
“I’m not,” Ernest says, shaking his head. “She wants to see you.”
Xavier squints at him. “Why? She never gave a damn before. Why now?”
“She’s your mother.”
“That never mattered to her before either.”
“It matters now. Do your duty as a son, just this once.”
“No, thanks,” Xavier says flatly, irritation bleeding into his voice. “I’ve got more important things to do.”
“Like what?” Ernest asks, voice thick with sarcasm.
“My work,” Xavier snaps, not missing a beat.
Ernest rolls his eyes. “Take a day off. Come to Aldrich. Bring Newton along, if you must. I’m sure your mother would love to meet the man you spend so much time with. You wouldn’t mind meeting Xavier’s mother—my dear sister Helena—would you, Newton?”
I blink, caught off guard. Before I can even think of what to say, Xavier’s eyes flash.
He stands abruptly, voice low. “Leave Newt out of this.”
Ernest just smirks, head tilting. “Why? Isn’t that what you want?”
“Shut up.”
“Fine, have it your way,” Ernest sighs, rising to his feet. “Guess I’ll head out.”
“Already?” I ask, surprised. “This is the third time you’ve dropped by in two days, and every time, you leave after ten minutes.”
“Well, my dear nephew’s not exactly rolling out the welcome mat,” Ernest says with a cool smile. “And here I thought I’d at least get offered a cup of tea…”
“Goodbye,” Xavier says flatly.
Ernest throws him a reproachful look. “Think about what I said.” Then, with a nod in my direction, he turns and walks out.
A moment later, the front door clicks shut. Xavier snorts and downs the rest of his coffee like it’s a shot.
I stand and head for the cabinet, reaching for a clean mug. “So what was that about?” I ask. “He seriously showed up at nine a.m. just to guilt-trip you into visiting your mom?”
“Just an excuse,” Xavier mutters, shaking his head. “He’s still pissed about the cameras.”
I pause, mug in hand. “I caught some of what you guys were saying,” I say carefully. “Sounded like he wanted you to tell me something. Wanna fill me in?”
From the corner of my eye, I see him tense. He sinks back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the side of his cup. His eyes flick to mine—blank, then quickly away.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says.
“What happened?” I frown, watching him.
