My scowl deepened.
Calvin moved his hand to cup my chin, forcing me to stand once more. “You’re smart and strong and fiercely independent.”
“I wasn’t looking for an ego stroke.”
“Weren’t you?”
After a brief hesitation, I huffed, leaned forward, and rested my forehead on his shoulder. “Guess it helps,” I mumbled into his armpit.
He wrapped his arms around me.
I inhaled the last traces of his fading cologne.
“I don’t like fighting with you,” Calvin said at length. “I’ve come to understand, after twelve months and three major homicide investigations, that I expect you to react in your calm, problem-solving sort of way to every established danger, and that’s not fair. You’re not a soldier and you’re not a cop. You haven’t been trained for this. We all react differently when our backs are to the wall.”
“Please don’t make excuses for my bad behavior.”
“I’m not. I’m making an observation.” Calvin tightened his arms around me. “Humans are not one-sided.”
“Like the barmaid?”
He tilted his head, resting his cheek against my hair. “Yeah.”
I didn’t let go for a long time. Not until I was certain I was done shouting and wouldn’t possibly break down into tears as an alternative. I was definitely scared. I didn’t want to be decapitated and left in someone’s mailbox. I had long-term husbandy plans with Calvin and wanted to see those through until we were old, stooped, and counting liver spots.
Calvin was offering a tight smile as I stepped back. “You okay?”
“I’ll manage,” I replied. “What now, Major?”
“I think a hotel would be wise. I don’t want you here, and I’ve got to get back to the precinct.” He added after a moment, “And this way we don’t need to inconvenience your dad.”
I didn’t like the idea that our home couldn’t be considered secure. And spending money on a hotel wasn’t turning my mood around any. But I did agree—avoiding Pop’s couch would be a plus. I didn’t want to upset him by explaining the full extent of potential danger I was in.
“Dillon too?” I asked, pointing to the pup, who’d been obediently sitting through our flare-up, hoping to eventually get some attention.
Calvin nodded, already reaching for his cell. “There’s a chain hotel just south of Times Square that’s pet-friendly.”
“Oh boy. My favorite neighborhood,” I said dryly.
Calvin smiled, staring at his phone’s screen. “Go pack.”
“For how many days?”
“A few.”
I nodded, turned, and walked to the stairs. I started up to the loft, but paused, looking down at Calvin still standing in the main room. “What about you?”
He glanced up while putting his phone to his ear. “If you can fit a clean suit in the bag, that’d be appreciated.”
I went to the bedroom. Calvin’s deep voice drifted up to the loft, but I ignored the temptation to pick out individual words and instead focused on packing for an undesired staycation. I grabbed a duffel bag from the closet, threw in some of my usual work clothes of trousers and sweaters, and added a pair of jeans on the off chance I was feeling wild and crazy later in the week. I removed one of Calvin’s suits and a few button-down shirts, took more care in folding them than I had my own, and tucked the clothes into the bag. I returned from collecting our toiletries in the bathroom to see Calvin coming up the stairs.
“I’ve got a room booked for three nights,” he said upon reaching the landing.
“Will we need it that long?”
“Hopefully not.”
“I’m gonna need you to instill some more confidence, Detective.”
