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“But I didn’t! No one told me. No one hosted a dinner for him. No presents were exchanged. No greetings. Nothing.”
“We were busy,” I grumble. “We live busy lives.”
“And if I were a better wife, more interested in home duties and minding my own business, I would’ve known it was his birthday.”
“Minka—”
“So no more bringing work home,” she happily sighs. “No more dead people to be discussed inside this apartment. And don’t worry… once I realized my horrible oversight from two weeks ago, today,” she amends, “while I was cuffed to the man, I apologized profusely. That’s actually why Tim and I came up to the apartment.”
“You brought my brother to our apartment… to apologize to him?”
“Of course. If we’d stayed in the bar, work would have distracted him. He deserved a little downtime.” Pleased, she hums in the back of her throat and smiles. “He deserves to de-stress.”
I push my plate away and swallow the remnants of steak still in my mouth, then setting my elbows on the counter, I stare into my wife’s deep brown eyes. “What exactly did you do to help my brother de-stress, Chief Mayet?”
“Uh-uh-uh.” She actually has the fucking audacity to waggle her finger in my face. “I’m just Minka here. Not Doctor. Not Chief. And you’re not Detective. Because we’re not bringing work home.”
“What did you do with my brother, Minka Mayet?” I shove up from my seat and glare. “How did you help him de-stress? And when,” I study her fresh outfit with new eyes, “did you get changed?”
“You’re being exceptionally loud, honey.” She picks up a green bean and bites off the end. “Please don’t turn our home into a battlefield. I’m shooing work out of here. Don’t bring chaos in to fill the gaps.”
“Our home is for me and you! It’s our safe space to be whoever the fuck we want to be. You’re a doctor. I’m a cop. Those are not just titles we slide on like a coat during work hours. That’s who we are.”
“And I think we can both acknowledge our obsession with work is not healthy.” She chews on her vegetable and smiles. “I call you Detective like it’s a cutesy pet name. And you call me Chief like it’s endearing.”
“I call you babe when I’m being endearing. I call you doctor when you’re pissing me off.”
“My point stands because I still call you Detective.” She cheerfully exhales. “It’s not healthy.”
“This isn’t healthy!” I point in her face, my blood pressure rising the longer she’s able to remain serenely calm. “This homemaker, I want to host dinner parties and go to the grocery store bullshit. That’s not you, Mayet.”
“It’s who I endeavor to be,” she counters gently. “It’s the wife you deserve. The wife you were born to marry.”
“Get the fuck out of here!” I shove away from the counter and slam my hands on the top of my head, pacing my living-dining space like I’ve just run a marathon. “Are you high?” I spin back around and find my wife leaning across the counter, stealing a green bean from my plate. “Did you ingest something you shouldn’t have?”
“Of course not.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “Are you okay? Because you’re acting a little… erratic.”
“Ya think? My wife appears to have self-administered a lobotomy while I was out. What the fuck, Mayet? This is the least sexy thing you’ve ever done.”
Finally, I break her robotic outer shell and spark a fire in her eyes. “You think I’m not sexy?”
“I think this Suzy Homemaker thing is not sexy. I think you helping my brother relax is not sexy.” I stalk back to the counter and press my hands to the edge so we’re on the same level. “I think you minding your own business and not horning in on my investigation is not sexy.”
She purses her lips, flattening them, and merely stares back until I realize…
“You’re fucking with me.” I shake my head and breathe through the panic racing through my veins. “You’re teaching me a lesson for locking you out.”
“Am I?” She picks up her knife and sets the tip on the counter. So calm. So collected. “I’m not a petty woman, Archer. If I have a problem with you, I’ll tell you to your face. I would never invite your brother to our apartment to lie on your side of the bed and concoct a weird, new reality where I bake and breed just to please you.”
“Tim was on our bed?” My brain explodes. Like kaleidoscope glass, shattering in my mind and leaving behind a mess that’ll never again be put back together. “Tim was in our bedroom?!”
The apartment door opens, and Cato comes to a skidding stop on the threshold. His eyes shoot to Minka’s bare legs, then over to me as he works to piece together the tension floating heavily in the air.
An awkward silence hangs, but then he turns away again and slams the door at his back. “Tim!” he calls out, his voice echoing on the stairs, his feet thudding right after. “You’re dead meat, bruh. Time to pack up and leave.”
“You’re being dramatic.” Unbothered, Minka jumps up from her stool and grabs her plate to take it to the sink. She leaves mine behind, its contents untouched except for what she took and ate herself. “You forced us together.” She sets her plate and silverware down, only to turn her back to the sink and place her hands on the lip of the counter. “You literally cuffed us together and walked away. You know we have a past, Archer. You know he’s a Malone, through and through.”
I stalk around the counter, my footsteps heavy and my heart pounding.
