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“This isn’t the way I’d imagined my first night back,” Morelli said. “I was looking forward to a quiet night at home with you and Bob. Miami was a nightmare.”
“I’m sorry I got you involved, but I didn’t want anyone else untangling this. If you hadn’t been on your way back to Trenton, I probably would have put Plover on ice somewhere until you returned.”
I looked over at Bob. He was curled up next to one of the lights that had been brought in to illuminate the crime scene.
“It’s past Bob’s bedtime,” I said to Morelli.
“Mine too,” Morelli said. “Take him home for me. I’ll tell the ME I’m leaving, and I’ll meet you at the house.”
“Is your brother there?”
“No. He left yesterday. He’s back with his wife.”
I walked Bob to my SUV and drove him to Morelli’s house. It was less than a mile from my parents’ house, in a very similar neighborhood. It was a small two-story, three-bedroom house with living room, dining room, kitchen on the ground floor.
The living room had guy furniture bought as a package. A big, comfy couch and two recliner chairs to match. Saddle-brown leather. A large square coffee table that could easily fit four extra-large pizza boxes plus a couple six-packs of beer on it. And a state-of-the-art, massive flat-screen television.
Ranger’s living room was cool and serene. It was a quiet place to collect yourself. Morelli’s living room was a noisy collection point for family members and friends. Both men spent their day dealing with violence, lawlessness, and chaos. Their manners of renewing their positive energy were miles apart. I was somewhere in between. They were black and white and red. I was gray. Ironic that I would be walking down the aisle at Loretta’s wedding the day after tomorrow wearing gray.
I parked at the curb, and Bob and I went to the door. Bob wasobviously excited. His ears were up, his eyes were bright, and his tail was furiously wagging. Bob liked me… but not as much as he liked Morelli. And this was clearly his home. I was less enthusiastic. I’d once thought that this could be my home, but it didn’t happen, and now I was going to marry Ranger. And I was going to have to tell Morelli.
I unlocked the door and Bob rushed in. I switched the lights on and followed Bob to the kitchen. I filled his water bowl, went to the fridge, and got myself a beer. The kitchen was unusually tidy. This meant that after Morelli’s brother left, his mom came in and cleaned. Morelli had a cleaning person who came in once a week, but no one cleaned like Mama Morelli. Except Ella. The difference being that Mama Morelli cleaned up after her sons, and her sons weren’t exactly neat freaks. Ella cleaned up after Ranger, and Ranger didn’t leave toothpaste in the sink or fast-food wrappers and empty beer cans spread throughout his apartment.
I heard the front door open and shut. Bob gave a woof and took off to greet Morelli.
“He missed you,” I said when they came into the kitchen.
“And I missed him.” Morelli reached out and drew me close. “And I missed you,” he said. “All the time. Every moment.”
“Even when you were in the titty bar?”
“Especially in the titty bar. The pole dancers were all eligible for Medicare. It was the only place I could get a beer and a burger without walking a mile. My hotel didn’t have room service. The city of Trenton doesn’t provide a per diem that covers the Ritz-Carlton.”
His lips brushed across mine, his hands moved under my shirt,and he kissed me. The kiss deepened and I felt the heat start in my chest and rush through my belly to points south. I’ve known Morelli for almost my entire life. I played choo-choo with him when I was five. I was the tunnel and he was the train. He didn’t get to see much more than my cotton undies but it was still a memorable experience. I gave him my virginity when I was in high school. And here I was, all these years later, still hopelessly attracted to him and in love with him. A voice that sounded a lot like Jiminy Cricket whispered in my ear that I was also in love with Ranger and was about to marry him.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I said to Morelli.
“Me first,” he said. “When I was in Miami, I realized that I hated being away from you. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I gave the pool table to my brother. He’s making a rec room in his basement. I want a dining table. I want kids of my own. I want to get married.”
My heart stopped dead for several beats. I didn’t see this one coming. “Excuse me?”
“I want to marry you.”
Oh boy! Holy crap!
