Page 53 of Dancing in the Dark

“The red one?” I take another luxurious sip of champagne and enjoy the swell of happiness in my stomach. “Really?”

“Mm. The one you gave her. She loves that thing most of all.” He exhales a soft breath. “How many minutes do you have left of your break?”

“Uh… about eight, probably. What are you doing?”

“Eat,” he orders. “Unless I can hear you chewing like an undignified cow out to pasture, I’m gonna assume you’re still starving. If you don’t eat, I’m not talking.”

I roll my eyes and snatch up another quiche. “I never chew like an undignified cow, so you’re gonna have to take my word for it. What did you have for dinner?”

“Grilled cheese sandwich and a beer.” He exhales a noisy grunt, so I see him, in my mind, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and burrowing into the couch cushions. “Didn’t even use a plate, so no dishes for me to clean up.”

“How very economical of you, Detective. So now that I’m eating, perhaps you could answer my question.”

“I’m sitting on my couch and working on that butt-shaped divot every self-respecting man requires of his throne.”

“Charming.”

He chuckles. “I was watching reruns of The Rookie and trying not to spam text you every five minutes. It’s important I remain relevant, but not annoying. It’s a fine line few master.”

“Uh huh. And how do you feel you did on the matter?”

He barks out a playful laugh, the sound swirling in my veins like serpents searching for something to kiss. “Well, you called me, so I’d like to think I’m charismatic enough to make annoying tolerable. For every one message I sent you, I had five more I wanted to. You didn’t send me a picture of your dress yet.”

“No,” I grin. “I didn’t. I would have, but I’ve been run off my feet all night and haven’t had the time. Also, you watch cop shows even though you’re a cop?”

“Mmhm. I can’t make an arrest these days without singing arrest me, but make it sexy.”

“You mean… in your head, right?” I select another pastry and toss it into my mouth. “You don’t sing it out loud?”

“Depends on who I’m arresting.”

Damn him for being so friggin’ cute.

“When my perp is an absolute prick I wanna smash with the front of a train, no singing for him. But when I’ve got a decent dude who made poor choices in cuffs, I figure they’re just having a really shitty day. He deserves to hear me sing.”

“Have you received formal complaints from these people?” I snicker. “Is it possible your singing may be considered a violation of their rights?”

“Saucy,” he chuckles. “It’s almost like you want to hurt my feelings. Eat.”

“I’m eating.” I snatch up another pastry. “Also, since we already kinda did that thing we did, which means we’ve passed the point of playing coy and pretending we’re not in to each other…”

“Pretty sure I stopped being coy about two years ago,” he grunts. “That’s when my spiral into obsession began. But sure, continue what you were saying.”

“W—”

“And eat.”

I swallow the fluffy pastry and hum my appreciation as each new morsel swells in my belly and relieves the sting of starvation. “So since we’re past being coy, and it’s kinda out there now that I like you and you like me⁠—”

“Love,” he inserts gruffly. “Ya know, since we’re not being coy anymore.”

Electricity sizzles in my blood as those words register in my brain. I lean against the stainless steel counter and tip my head back. Squeezing my eyes shut, I bathe in his declaration and sigh.

He can’t possibly know what those words mean to me.

That the only times I’ve ever truly heard them were from a father who died too soon, a fiancé who never actually meant them, and a mother who used them to manipulate.

Why don’t you love me enough to do better, Seraphina?