CHAPTER 11. DISQUIET #2
Except Xavier won’t be here.
The thought sinks in hard, leaving behind a bitter mix of anger and disappointment.
After I finish cooking—baked chicken with mashed potatoes and salad—I spend the next hour scrubbing the kitchen spotless, then move on to the living room: vacuuming, dusting, rearranging books that didn’t need rearranging.
Every half hour, I drift back into the kitchen for more coffee.
I’ve lost count, but I’m definitely on cup five.
What is wrong with me? I’ve never spiraled like this over anyone. But now I can’t sit still, can’t think straight. I need to stop thinking about him.
I switch on the TV and start setting the table, letting the mindless chatter of some random cooking show fill the silence. That’s how the rest of the day slips by.
At quarter to six, the doorbell rings.
I won’t lie—my heart skips a beat. It’s too early for the guests, and maybe, just maybe, I hope it’s Xavier, who forgot his keys.
But it’s not. I glance at the downstairs monitor and see Monica.
A minute later, she steps through the door in a snow-covered coat, holding a large box in her arms.
“Hey,” I say with a small smile, letting her in.
“Hi,” she replies, handing me the box and giving me a quick one-armed hug. “Am I too early?”
“No, it’s fine,” I mumble, heading to the kitchen and trying not to show the flash of disappointment I felt. “What’s in the box?” I call over my shoulder.
“A cherry pie,” she says from the living room. “It’s from Bennett’s.”
A bittersweet jolt of memory washes over me. Just over two months ago, Xavier and I sat in this kitchen after cracking the sex cartel case, eating cherry pie from Bennett’s straight out of the box…
“Xavier Ormond actually enjoying dessert—now that’s a sight,” I teased.
He swallowed his second piece and shot me a pointed look.
“My body needs extra calories now and then, Newt. It’s good for metabolism. It’s not about enjoying it.”
“Right,” I smiled, watching his eyes drift toward the third piece. “Should’ve gone with the baked potatoes if you were really in it for the energy.”
Xavier gave me an unimpressed look, then—suddenly—an annoyed little smile.
“Alright, I like it. What now? You gonna laugh at how I’m as mortal as everybody else?”
“When have I ever done that?” I snorted—then, without missing a beat, added, “I just like knowing you’re human.”
He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, be quiet.”
I cracked a grin, heart suddenly racing.
“What?” he said.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“You’ve got jam on your face.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin, but the red spot was still there, catching my eye.
“No, it’s on your chin.”
He sighed and tried again, this time swiping at his chin—but missed.
So before I could think twice, I leaned across the table and wiped the smudge off his skin with my thumb. Then, without thinking, I licked the jam off my finger.
That’s when our eyes met.
My stomach did a little flip, and I looked away fast, grabbing my tea and taking a long sip, like that would somehow make the moment disappear.
“Is Xavier home?”
Monica’s voice snaps me back to reality. She’s already out of her coat and shoes, looking cozy in her ugly Christmas sweater.
I blink up at her, her puzzled expression still lingering.
“No, it’s just me,” I mumble. “Want some tea?”
“Sure, thanks.”
I keep myself busy brewing Earl Grey while Monica settles at the table, watching me in silence. I can feel her eyes on me, lingering—like she’s trying to read something off me.
To break the awkward quiet, I ask, “So what’s up? Did you want to talk about something, or just missed me?”
“Oh.” She blinks, like she just remembered. “Right. Mom called.”
“Mom?” My stomach tightens. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Monica nods. “She’s been calling a lot lately. I just didn’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?” I frown.
“She’s been asking about you,” Monica says, giving me a look.
“What would she even be asking? We talked last week.” But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize I already know.
“She’s worried,” Monica says with a shrug. “You know how she gets. She reads everything.”
I sigh, already annoyed. “Great. Why didn’t she just call me herself?”
“She’s probably embarrassed. Not about you,” she adds quickly. “More about how she reacted. I think she’s spiraling a bit. She’s convinced you’re following in my footsteps.”
I snort, cheeks warming. “If this is about grandchildren, I’ve told her a million times—I don’t want kids.”
“Well, yeah. But now she thinks you’ve got a male lover, and I guess it’s finally sinking in.”
I roll my eyes. “So what did she want you to do, exactly? You’re a lesbian. You can only be a bad influence.”
Monica laughs. “Well, yeah. But this time she didn’t call to panic. She’s done enough of that already. She actually said she wants you and Xavier over for Christmas.”
“Right,” I snort, pouring her a cup of tea. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“I already told her that,” Monica says. “But still—don’t be surprised if she works up the nerve to actually call you.”
“Okay,” I say.
She glances around the room, like she’s just now realizing something. “Where’s Xavier?”
I try to keep my voice even. “Out.”
Monica nods, then goes quiet for a second. She clears her throat.
“Ernest—that’s his uncle, right?”
“Yeah.” I frown. “Why?”
She hesitates. “He approached me.”
“Approached you?” I blink. “You mean the other day?”
“Well—yeah. But not here. He waited for me outside. Just walked up to me on the street.”
I frown, confused. “Why? What did he want?”
Monica hesitates again, then gives me a guilty look. “He asked me to ‘talk some sense into you.’ And yes, that’s a quote.”
“Talk some sense…” My jaw tightens. I already know where this is going.
“Yup.” Monica sinks into the chair. “He thinks you and Xavier are sleeping together. Wanted me to convince you it’s a bad idea.”
My face burns, but I don’t say anything. I just pour myself a cup too.
“He also told me to keep our meeting a secret. So. Now you know.”
I sit across from her. “Don’t pay attention to him,” I say. “He believes whatever the papers say.”
“Okay.” She watches me for a moment. “Do you want to at least tell me what’s going on? Between you and Xavier?”
I want to. God, I want to. But if I say anything, I’ll fall apart right here at the table. My chest goes cold, tight, like everything inside me just shut down. Even if I wanted to talk, I wouldn’t know where to begin.
“Honestly…nothing’s going on.” It comes out quiet. Flat. I take a sip of tea, eyes fixed on the mug, my throat closing up around the lie.
But before she can ask anything else, the door downstairs rings.
“Can you get that?” I ask, my voice rough as I try to keep myself together.
“Sure,” Monica says, heading into the living room. I rub my eyes with the back of my hand until bright spots blur my vision, then take a sip of tea.
A minute later, I hear Katie’s voice. I blink a few times, straighten my collar, and step into the room.
“I’m Katie.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Monica.”
“You too.”
Katie spots me and grins.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
We hug.
“Is this her?” Katie asks in a low voice, throwing Monica a knowing smile.
“Her?” Monica echoes, frowning.
“His girlfriend.”
“No, no.” I shake my head quickly. “This is my sister, Monica.”
“Oh—sorry.” Katie laughs, and Monica does too. “I was wondering when I’d finally meet her.”
Monica glances at me, mischief creeping into her voice. “Yeah, Newt. Where is your girlfriend?”
I ignore her, helping Katie with her coat. Another doorbell rings, saving me from the question.
I check the monitor and spot Fred and Bernard on the stairs, brushing off snow like wet dogs. I buzz them in and open the door at the top of the landing.
A moment later, I hear the front door downstairs creak open, followed by footsteps echoing in the hallway. Then the heavy tread of boots on the stairs.
“Come in,” I say as they reach the top, forcing a smile that feels anything but natural.
“Newty, buddy!” Fred barrels into the living room and claps me on the shoulder. “What’s up?” Then his eyes land on Katie. “Kitty-Kat! No way!”
While the two of them get caught up in an overly enthusiastic reunion, I shake hands with Bernard, who—standing next to Fred—looks reserved by comparison.
“Hello, Newt.”
“Hi, Bernard. Good to see you.”
He hands me a bottle of wine.
“Thanks,” I say, nodding as I take it.
“Gonna introduce us?” Monica says, stepping closer.
Bernard’s eyes pause on her.
“Oh—right.” I gesture toward him. “This is Bernard, Fred’s colleague. Bernard, my sister, Monica.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says, offering her hand.
Bernard takes it, his handshake careful, his eyes lingering just a beat too long.
“Nice to meet you too.” He looks a little dazed, and Monica smiles at him.
I almost roll my eyes—men flirt with Monica constantly, and she knows it, playing along just for fun. She only tells them she’s a lesbian when they get particularly annoying.
“And this is Fred,” I say, turning to him. He’s deep in conversation with Katie—who already looks a little overwhelmed—so I tap him on the back.
Fred spins around and gives Monica an interested once-over.
“Well, hello there,” he says, eyebrows lifting in mock charm.
“Hi,” she replies, just enough sarcasm in her tone to make me smirk. “Monica. Newt’s sister.”
“Fred. Newt, Katie, and I went to high school together.”
“Oh yeah?” Monica smirks, and I can already see her trying to remember which stories I’ve told her about these two.
After the introductions, I tell everyone to make themselves comfortable and head to the kitchen to grab drinks. At the fridge, I pause and pull out my phone.
No missed calls. No texts.
My heart sinks.
“Need a hand?” Monica appears in the doorway.
“Nah,” I say, not turning around. “Go keep the guests company. I’ll be there in a sec.”
“All right,” she says, though she lingers a second longer before walking off.