Chapter 109 Christianna
Chapter one hundred nine
Christianna
As I head downstairs, I pass Erik on his way back up. He brushes a kiss across my lips without breaking stride.
In the kitchen, the Notes are already eating. Remy stands at the stove in nothing but boxers, barefoot, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. My mouth actually waters.
I’m not sure how I went from living like a nun to this, but the thought crosses my mind, uninvited and vivid. I want to lick him.
He turns, catches me staring, and his lips curve, white teeth flashing against dark skin. “Ham and cheese omelet with avocado okay?”
I nod dumbly and move to set the island.
He passes me a mug. I take a grateful sip of coffee.
Ruiz strides in just as I set the final place. He does not go straight for the coffee pot, breaking what I have come to recognize as a sacred ritual. Instead, he stops at the end of the island, his expression sober.
Something in my chest tightens.
I still and reach back, my fingers curling into Remy’s side. He reads the room in a single glance. The pan is moved to a cool burner. The stove clicks off.
“Don’t eat yet,” Ruiz says. “We’ve got a situation.”
Remy turns, all humor gone. “What kind of situation?”
“A body washed up along the rocks at Crescent Park,” Ruiz says. “Pulled from the Mississippi about an hour ago. Been in the water a few days.”
The kitchen feels suddenly too quiet.
“It’s Levi Spivey,” he adds. “Reporter. The one who wrote that trash article. The police will want to question you.”
My grip tightens on Remy without me meaning to.
“Shit,” Remy mutters, running a hand over his face, his other arm curling protectively around me.
Erik enters then, immaculately pressed.
“Erik,” Remy says, already shifting, “take Tianna. I’m going to pull some pants on before the police get here.”
Ruiz brings Erik up to speed while I move to the counter, plating the omelets Remy made. I rummage in the fridge and pull out a container of cut fruit, adding it to the plates on autopilot, my thoughts circling without landing anywhere useful.
When I’m done, I cross back to Erik, pass him his coffee, and snag my phone off the counter to fire off a quick text to Meg.
“Meg has contacted our publicist,” Remy announces as he comes back in.
Erik and Ruiz have started eating. I push my fruit around the plate, my earlier hunger gone.
“Will I be a suspect?” I ask, my stomach rolling. I press my hand to it, it doesn’t help.
“I don’t see why, I would think it would be more information gathering, tracing his last steps. They may not need to speak to you since the police were also out.” Ruiz answers distractedly as he texts, I assume, Coulson.
Ruiz looks up from his phone.
“They’re calling it accidental for now.”
My eyes go to Remy who has returned and is nodding slowly. “Why don’t we work from home today? I can text the Earls. You were only going to rehearse your solo with Erik right? Nothing with the full orchestra?”
I nod as he moves to me to press a kiss to my forehead, voice low and tender. “Try and eat a few bites. Once Erik gets started it could be dinner before he lets you go.”