Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

“ Y ou almost ready?” Xavier called from the kitchen, where he was finishing up the remnants of breakfast dishes.

Just like every morning since moving in and the two weeks since our little midnight interlude, he had come upstairs to help and spend a bit of time with Sofia. Today had been his day to take her to school while I tutored a student in Alabama. But instead of leaving for work afterward, he had come back and made us both a healthy breakfast of rice, sautéed spinach, and scrambled eggs. Plus the prenatal vitamins he made sure I took every morning.

I honestly wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was so…normal. So much like the early part of the summer before Kendal had happened.

But then, our lives had still been separate. Sofia and I had been visitors, tourists in his world while he went on basically living the way he always had. Here, he was stepping up as a partner, the kind I’d always wanted, right down to being elbows-deep in dishes instead of hiring the housekeeper we both knew he could afford.

It would have been great. Except now, with the lines blurring more than ever, it was growing even harder to put those boundaries between the two of us that I used to be certain were necessary.

I popped out of the bathroom, where I was busy pinning my hair up. “Two minutes.”

The water at the sink turned off. “One. We can’t be late, babe.”

We were due at Beth Israel, where I was scheduled for the neonatal echocardiogram and another sonogram, this time 3D. The latter wasn’t strictly necessary, but when Xavier learned that the doctor could determine the sex of the baby as soon as fourteen weeks with it, he’d insisted on paying for the extra test if only to “check on things” and make sure everything was all right.

He wouldn’t admit it, but I could see he was nervous, and not just because of a simple murmur. Why, I wasn’t quite sure.

“All right?” he asked as I exited the bathroom after one minute and thirty seconds. Compromise, right?

The question felt heavy. Everything felt heavy.

Since the night on the couch, he had helped me “pretend” several other times over the last two weeks and once had even stayed the rest of the night, holding me just the same way in my bed.

Always in the dark of night. Always by telling stories about us. The ones I would never let myself imagine on my own.

Last night, he’d been unable to help himself when I’d reached behind me to grab him, eager to touch his silky steel as I shook out yet another mind-bending orgasm. Our lips had nearly met, and in the meantime, he had spilled himself against the small of my back, bucking under my hand with a pained groan while his deep eyes stared into mine, unfathomably deep with hunger.

Pretend. That’s all it was.

I wished I could believe it.

Still, we hadn’t kissed again. Not once. I wasn’t sure what we were doing or what Xavier wanted here, but I knew he was being careful.

He hadn’t mentioned the possibility of getting back together—if anything, he had accepted that we were really and truly over as a couple. A nightly orgasm felt more like penance for getting me pregnant all over again. Like making me breakfast and paying for sonograms helped him atone for the fact that he had screwed things up beyond repair.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

Now we stood in the hallway, gawking at each other like twitterpated middle schoolers trying to figure out how to ask someone out with notes bearing checkboxes for yes, no, or maybe.

Since I no longer had to spend my days tending to third-grade art projects and dodging squirting juice boxes, I could wear slightly nicer clothing. Today I had put on a black ribbed dress that hugged my hips and legs in a way that made my new curves more apparent. And while Xavier was pretending not to pay attention to anything about my body unless I explicitly asked him, it was impossible to miss the way his gaze floated over the new cleavage and more substantial derriere this pregnancy was giving me.

“I’m fine,” I said, somehow unable to look him in the eye. “You?”

He looked as gorgeous as ever in a suit and tie, though he’d shucked the jacket in favor of a leather bomber nearly as shiny as his hair. His trousers were cut in the modern way, narrow through the legs and just tight enough that I could easily imagine the size of that part of him I had gripped last night. Honestly, the way I was still feeling, I could climb the man like a tree many times over.

I turned away, cheeks reddened. I really was turning into an addict.

Pretending wasn’t enough. Fingers weren’t enough. Loath as I was to admit it, I wanted the real thing. I wanted it like a junkie wants her next hit. And it was right there, teasing me through the finest spun wool.

Before Xavier could reply, there was a knock at the door.

“Expecting someone?” he asked as he tossed the sponge into the sink.

“No.”

We both frowned in that direction, but I crossed the house and opened the door to find Derek Kingston standing outside in his detective’s uniform of slacks, a gray button-down, a black tie, and a jacket thrown over his arm. It was essentially what Xavier was wearing, but the difference between the two men was night and day.

Derek was an objectively good-looking guy with broad shoulders, a reasonably trim body, and a relaxed yet powerful way about him shared by a lot of Matthew’s friends in law enforcement. But while that might have done it for a lot of women, it was hard not to compare them. Derek was slightly awkward in a way that reminded me of boys in high school, whereas Xavier entered a room with nothing less than control. Derek tended to fidget, leaning back and forth on a door, picking at his nails, or shoving hands in and out of pockets, while Xavier occupied any room with stillness and gravity. To any other woman, Derek might have been a snack in his own right. But I could really only see one of them, even if whatever we had right now was more pretend than anything else.

“Hey, Frankie,” Derek said as he looked over my shoulder and found Xavier watching the interaction with an utterly unreadable expression while he appeared to be fixing his tie.

“Be nice,” I mouthed at him but had to stifle a smile when he just shrugged. I turned back to Derek. “Hey, we were just on our way out. Everything all right?”

Derek rubbed a hand over his closely cut hair. “Uh, yeah. I was just in the neighborhood on a job?—”

“What sort of job?” Xavier cut in, coming to stand next to me.

Derek gave him a look. “My job. As a police detective. That’s all you need to know.”

His tone was clear with subtext. As in, you want me to help, or do you want to be an asshole ?

I reached out to touch his shoulder in what I hoped was a comforting way. “Don’t pay attention to him. We’re both just a little high-strung about everything going on, you know?”

Derek’s gaze flickered between me and Xavier, and I waited for His Royal Broodiness beside me to make some kind of off-color comment or snap at the detective.

But to my surprise, Xavier remained civil.

“Go on,” he said stiffly, if not particularly nicely. “We do have an appointment uptown, but I imagine if you’re here, it’s important.”

“Uh, right,” Derek said. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that nothing showed up on the letter you gave me, like I thought. But a squad car down the street did intercept a kid delivering a second letter to your box last night around two in the morning.”

I glanced at Xavier, who just flickered an equally befuddled, if not tense, look my way before we both turned back to Derek.

“I think you’d better come in,” Xavier said, opening the door fully.

Derek followed us back into the living room, where I made myself busy getting him a glass of water rather than sitting on the couch and stewing with sweaty palms.

“Can we see the letter?” I asked.

Derek shook his head. “It’s already been entered into evidence. But I can tell you what it said.” He pulled up his phone and scrolled through some notes. “This time it was printed out from a computer. ‘Get him out of your house. He doesn’t belong to you.’” He looked up with a bemused expression. “We got a poet, I see.”

“So, who is it?” Xavier asked. “Who the fuck is tormenting my family?”

I hated the way my heart thrilled at the term “my family.” Hated and also loved it a little.

Okay, maybe a lot.

“Well, the kid who delivered it is a fifteen-year-old kid name Juan Simmons who lives about four blocks that way.” Derek pointed in the direction of Red Hook West, the public housing projects on the other side of Coffey Park. “He has a couple of priors. Nothing major. Shoplifting, skipping turnstiles. Things like that.”

He handed us both a sheet of paper containing the kid’s mug shot and a few basic facts about him. It looked like a profile that might have been printed off a database in his office.

Xavier took the sheet and looked it over with a scowl. “So, some teenager has been messing with us…why?”

I looked at the picture. “Oh, I recognize him. I’ve seen him at the bodega here and there. He opened the door once for me and Sof.”

“Any reason he might be stalking you?” Xavier asked. “Got a thing for the cute bird down the street, maybe?”

I shook my head. “Doubtful. To a fifteen-year-old, I’m a crone.”

Beside me, Xavier chuckled. “Never,” he murmured, causing my cheeks to redden. “To a fifteen-year-old, I’d say you’re fodder for a lot of…pretend.”

The blush threatened to become an all-out fire.

“Er.” Derek cleared his throat. “It might just be that he was paid to deliver. Sort of a middleman to cover up the original perpetrator. We checked security cameras all around here, and we actually got him on camera delivering the first one too, so next step is to send a squad car down to pick him up for interrogation.”

“Oh, don’t,” I put in. “I don’t want to ruin this kid’s life. Can’t you just ask him what you need to know in his own home? It sounds more like a harmless prank, honestly.”

“Ces,” Xavier argued. “Obviously it’s not.”

“Or maybe it is,” I argued back. “What if this isn’t about a jilted lover or some weird stalker, but just some kids who saw my profile in the Post and wanted to screw with me? He doesn’t deserve to have his whole neighborhood watch him taken away in a squad car just because of some mischief.”

Derek clearly did not agree with me, but it also looked like he did not particularly want to use his valuable time hunting down teenage delinquents with mean letters when there were lots of other, much more serious crimes happening in the city.

Xavier rubbed his hand over his face. “What about a private investigator?”

“That is not necessary—” I started to say before Derek cut me off.

“That sounds great,” he said, looking relieved to have Xavier (and his money) on board. “Actually, I was going to suggest it.”

“I’m sure you have other things to do,” Xavier told him. “We appreciate you looking into this.” He set the paper down on the table and held out his hand for a shake. “ I appreciate it. Thanks, mate.”

Derek examined him like he was expecting the act of gratitude to turn Xavier into a pillar of salt. When it didn’t, he nodded slowly before taking his hand.

“I’ll have Elsie find someone, then.” Xavier was already reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.

Derek stood, then looked at me. “Walk me out?”

“Sure.” I glanced at Xavier, whose blue gaze only flickered up at me and back to his phone before he tapped his watch to indicate the time.

No sign of jealousy, though. Not even a whiff.

I wasn’t sure why that bothered me. Hadn’t I told him to reel it in?

I accompanied Derek to the front stoop, where he turned to me while I held the door open.

“You okay?” he asked, casting another look down the hallway toward where Xavier remained on the couch. “Things seem…weird between you two. Not that the guy isn’t kind of weird already, but…”

I shrugged, not really wanting to get into it. “He’s just feeling protective. Maybe more than usual.”

“He wasn’t around for over a month, and now he’s living here? I guess you guys are working it out after all, huh?”

I swallowed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but how did you know that? It’s not like we talk.”

Derek just shrugged. “I worry about you. But so does your brother. He asks me once a week to come by and check on you.”

I huffed. “Frigging Matthew.”

“He said something about you and Nina expecting around the same time?” Derek glanced down at my belly, obviously a bit doubtful since there still wasn’t much to see there yet. “I was up there last weekend. She’s, uh, showing a lot.”

I bit my lip. Apparently, all my business was on blast. “She’s a little farther along. But, yeah, Nina and I will be about a month apart.”

No one had known it at the wedding, but a few weeks after Italy, Nina and Matthew had revealed to the family that they were expecting. It explained a lot—mainly why Matthew hadn’t been checking in on me himself since these letters arrived. Or come to kick Xavier out of the house.

“So, you and the Brit are…”

I glanced over my shoulder at Xavier, who was staring steadfastly at the sheet of paper and pretending not to watch me and Derek. Then I turned back to the detective. “We’re complicated.”

Derek nodded. “I guess so.”

I swore Xavier’s mouth curled at the edges. It wasn’t quite a smile. But it was almost there.