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She glares at me over her shoulder, making a clicking sound with her tongue. “Better than that pedestrian swill.”
“If you’re going to insult my beer, I’ll send you back to your own condo.” I shove the empty pizza box into the kitchen trash.
She scoffs. “Now you’re trying to get rid of me? I knew you were just using me for pizza.”
I hadn’t expected my comments when we’d met on Monday would set the stage for our constant barbs and banter. As it continues, I expect confirmation that’s all that it is, empty words and good fun. But every traded jab draws me deeper, closer, leaving me to open up in ways I haven’t in a long time.
I’d felt like a shadow lurking around the edges of life, but even at the center of her bright glow, I haven’t diminished. I thought her light would ultimately drive me out. Instead, it drew me in, highlighting my regrets until they faded away.
As she takes a seat next to me, she glances at her phone and smiles before typing a hurried message. “My friend’s babysitting my dog. Apparently, Spiegel gets along with his… wife better than I do.”
She seems to stumble over her words mid-sentence, then flips her phone around, showing me a picture of a large black lab stretched out on the couch next to a woman. Then, she turns the phone off and slides it away. “Still can’t believe Mr. Marriage-is-a-sham got married.
I can’t tell if the comment is bitter because of the engagement thing, but there seems to be something more to it.
“Not a fan of his wife?”
“She’s…” She rolls her head back. “All I can say is she’s something else, but she’s not a fan of cops in general, despite the fact that she married one, and…” Libby shifts in her seat. “I didn’t win any favor when she learned Trent and I have history.”
Ah, there it is.
“Before I was his boss,” she adds. “We weren’t serious, it was just nice to have someone to commiserate with, and now that’s totally awkward.”
She takes a long swig of her drink. And stares off.
“That why you’re so bitter about the marriage thing?”
“Bitter?” She shakes her head, then her movements slow and she appears to slip into thought. “Okay, maybe I am, but it’s internalized bitterness. I’m glad Trent found someone. As fucked up as they seem, she’s good for him. in a weird, slightly masochistic way that I’m so not analyzing.”
I pinch my nose, trying not to burst out laughing while she’s obviously being serious.
I think.
“They have something special. Until recently, I’d been focused on too many other things to notice until everything unraveled. The worst thing about breaking up with Beckett was looking through all of my other relationships and realizing they’re either tied to work or people I don’t feel connected to. And it’s hard to watch them, seemingly out of the blue, have exactly what I thought I was working toward for the last two years. I know playing the whole comparison game is dangerous but, looking at them, I’ve just realized how far I am from where I really want to be.” She seems nervous when she goes quiet, picking at her nails.
“I kind of get it. I went to my ex-wife’s wedding. Hell, they asked me to be a part of it because they wanted Kenzie to know we were still family. Awkward didn’t begin to describe that. Watching her marry someone else—start a life with someone else—was conflicting.”
I still care about Harper. So I’m thankful she’s happy and they give Kenz everything she needs, but I also had to stand there and watch the whole thing knowing I’d followed a different calling and failed to find a balance that worked for everyone. It’s quite the double-edged sword to live a life on.
Libby turns toward me, folding her knee over the couch. “You know, I was cursing myself the first few days here, blaming the wedding party, and now this whole bank fiasco, but I have to admit, you’ve added some redeeming value.”
“It has been a very unexpected week.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She taps the rim of her plastic cup against my beer, takes a sip, and sits it on the coffee table. Then, she leans back, staring down and pulling at her fingers in her lap. “Is your shoulder feeling better?”
“I haven’t really been thinking about it, but yeah, it’s tolerable.”
Her face seems flushed, maybe the alcohol, but when she looks up, she rolls her lips through her teeth. “Good, so…”
She takes a long breath, traces her fingertips over her eyebrows, and blows out a quiet laugh. Her loss for words is unusual, and the blush in her cheeks seems to deepen.
Is she nervous?
Sitting my beer to the side, I turn in my seat and rest my hand over her wrist. The edges of her lips curl into a slight smile as she lifts her gaze slowly to me.
Her other hand brushes against my arm, and she inches closer, pulling me toward her.
She exhales, tilting her head to the side, and her hair falls over her pinkened chest. Brushing it back, I caress her jaw, edging closer until our lips press together.
