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He moved toward the door with Ruby at his heels.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him. “My life is… well, it’s messy. I don’t blame you if you want to steer clear.”
He wanted to pull her into his arms, but it was only right that she lead the way on how they behaved in front of Olivia.
He settled for staring into her eyes instead, hoping she could see how much he meant the next thing he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She held his gaze, an ocean of meaning passing between them in just a few seconds.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “For last night.”
He opened the door and leaned down to speak in her ear. “No, Ruby. Thankyou.”
He left before he could make a fool of himself, before he could beg her to let him stay.
18
ADAM
Adam seethed all the way to Staten Island.
That bitch. That motherfucking bitch cunt slut.
He'd been worried about bringing Olivia back early, not because it had never happened before but because part of him had always felt like Ruby could see through him to the truth of who he was. That she could see through all his bullshit.
He'd half expected her to call him out, to know that he was lying about the emergency department meeting.
Turned out, that should have been the least of his worries.
He'd been worried about the giant man who’d stuck his nose in their business in the alley behind Roasted, but Adam had believed her when she'd said she wasn't fucking him.
The lying cunt.
Fresh off the ferry, he fisted his hands at his side as he made his way down a small street lined with small houses that cost a fortune in spite of their minute square footage because of their proximity to the city.
He reminded himself that something good had come out of catching Ruby with the man in her apartment.
Roman.
Now Adam knew his name. It was more than he had before, something to add to the picture on his phone that had been taken at a less-than-ideal angle in the alley. He tried to focus on the small piece of good news, pushing down the images that rose in his mind of Ruby naked in bed with the man who dared to enter his ex-wife's home, sleep in her bed.
Speak to Adam’s daughter for fuck’s sake.
He checked the numbers on the houses and made his way up a neat walkway lined with flowers to a set of stairs leading to a white house with sky-blue shutters.
He'd been here once before, for a department barbecue, but it had been years.
A big dog barked from somewhere inside the house even before he lifted his hand to knock on the door. Once he knocked, the dog went crazy and Adam shifted on his feet, hoping someone would shut it the fuck up.
A man's voice sounded on the other side of the door. "Roscoe! Down!”
The door opened a second later and a familiar man studied him with watchful blue eyes. He opened the door a moment later to let Adam in. “Can’t say I expected to hear from you again in this lifetime.”
Adam stepped into a cramped foyer. Hooks lined one wall, hung with an assortment of jackets, backpacks, and bags. Under them, a narrow table held a stack of unopened mail and a dish filled with keys and coins.
“I'm as surprised as you are,” Adam said.
He and Paulie McEvoy had never been close. In fact, Adam suspected the former detective didn't care for him much at all.
