Then he leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed him back. And it was glorious and amazing, until I heard a screech from the top of the stairs. We untangled ourselves to see Mom trotting toward us, clapping her hands in glee.
“I knew it! Iknewit! I told you that you two were perfect together. Octavia was right! Iknewit.”
“Don’t plan the wedding yet,” I warned her.
“I’ve already planned it in here,” she said, tapping her forehead. “Octavia told me to invite at least two hundred people.”
“Octavia!” I groaned, shaking a fist at the sky.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Jude said. “Your fight with Russo in my kitchen was entirely recorded by one of my cameras.” He pulled up the app on his phone and showed me. The angle was from the foyer, where a camera angled to the front door also got most of the kitchen.
“Did you get sound, too?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Jeremy offered me my old job back atCrime Hive. If we did get audio of his Bond villain speech, then that would make a helluva episode. Might even convince some people he’s not the hero everyone thinks he is.”
It irked me that he was being raised up as a vigilante hero when he was 100 percent out for himself.
Was I really considering going back to work for Jeremy? The backstabber?
Somehow, that didn’t sit well with me.
“Is that what you really want to do?” Jude asked me. No judgment. Just curiosity.
“I actually don’t know,” I admitted.
“If you could do anything, be anything, what would it be?” Jude asked.
An idea popped into my head instantly. “Private eye,” I said. Where had that come from? But once I said it, it just sounded right.
Jude’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Not a police detective?”
I thought about the road to police detective: police academy, on duty as a beat cop, hoping for a promotion. Or worse, getting elected sheriff like Oscar.
“I don’t know if law enforcement is right for me.” I liked the idea of having more freedom. Of making more of my own rules. Of taking on cases that I wanted to do. Not ones that were handed to me.
Jude raised an eyebrow. “We could move to Chicago. I can still take the job at the Cheese Council. I’m sure you can find an agency to work for there.”
“There’s a whole lot of ‘we’ you’re throwing around,” I said, but my heart sang at the possibility of moving back to the city. Maybe evenwithJude, whatever that meant. I’d need a roommate anyway, since rent was so expensive. Roommates with benefits? Might be the start of a beautiful relationship.
Jude looked stricken. “Is it too soon for ‘we’? Oh, God—is ‘we’ labeling it? I didn’t mean to label it.”
I laughed. “Label it all you want. I like the idea of moving back to Chicago. Of doing something more serious than podcasting.”
Maybe I could be a real detective. Not just an amateur.
My phone rang. It was Oscar.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey,” he said, voice sounding tight. “How are you?”
“Leg hurts, but otherwise, I’m fine. What’s up?”
Oscar let out a big sigh, like he was reluctant to say why he’d called. “Russo’s been asking to see you.”
I felt my stomach clench. “Why?”
