Page 91 of Detectives in Love
My heart sinks.
“Need a hand?” Monica appears in the doorway.
“Nah,” I say, not turning around. “Go keep the guests company. I’ll be there in a sec.”
“All right,” she says, though she lingers a second longer before walking off.
When I return to the living room with drinks, I find Monica deep in conversation with Bernard, while Fred is talking Katie’s ear off.
Katie spots me and turns.
“Fred says Xavier Ormond lives here too. Is that true?” She looks at me, clearly surprised.
I silently curse Fred’s big mouth. Out loud, I keep my tone even.
“Yeah. We rent together.”
“I’m shocked you haven’t heard,” Fred smirks.
“Should I have?” Katie raises an eyebrow, glancing between us.
“Let’s not get into this,” I say, shooting Fred a look. “Let’s eat.”
He either misses it or chooses to ignore it, grinning wider.
“Our Newty’s famous now! He’s all over the Shorewitch papers, haven’t you seen?”
I sigh, already bracing for the conversation I don’t want to have.
“No, what was I supposed to see?” Katie says, looking at Fred. “I don’t read the papers, so I have no idea…”
But before Fred can say another word, Bernard announces—loudly—that he’s starving, and with impeccable timing, steers Fred into some harmless small talk while nudging him toward the table.
I exhale in quiet relief, mentally thanking Bernard, then ask Katie and Monica to join them.
I bring out food and snacks, and we settle into eating and chatting, but I know I’m not in the clear. Having Fred in the room means staying on edge. The guy lives to stir up drama.
Actually, now I get why Xavier hates him so much.
Thankfully, Fred gets caught up reminiscing about high school, cracking ridiculous stories about me that keep everyone entertained for the first hour. I just smile and add a few details here and there, but my mind’s miles away.
By the time we’ve gone through three bottles of wine, Fred—predictably—circles back to the topic he’d supposedly forgotten.
“So, Newty, how’s life treating you, considering the whole rumors thing?”
“Everything’s fine,” I mumble, nursing my second glass. I’m trying not to get drunk tonight—coffee and alcohol is a cocktail of anxiety and sadness I’m not in the mood for.
Katie—apparently still the only one clueless about the gossip—perks up.
“What’s he talking about, Newt? What rumors?”
“It’s nothing,” I say, shooting Fred a look, hoping he’ll drop it. But he’s drunk enough not to care.
“They’re saying he and Xavier Ormond are, you know—” Fred waggles his eyebrows, “—doing it.”
It takes everything in me not to go beet red as four pairs of eyes swing my way.
“It’s just rumors,” I mutter, rolling my eyes, though I can feel Katie studying me now.
