Page 116 of Sweet Oblivion

“Jesus Christ. You have your own house to get laid in. Go fuck onthatcouch.”

I bury my face in Ryker’s neck, pretty sure I should be dying of humiliation. But when Ryker stands with me in his arms and starts walking, I get over it pretty quickly.

“Kyrie’s asleep, and we’re going to my room. You might want to stay down here for a bit or put your headphones on.”

Oh my God.

“Seriously? I’m fucking tired, and I have to work tomorrow,” Finn bitches, but Ryker’s already walking away. “You fucking suck.”

He nips my lips and smacks my ass. “Only if I’m lucky.”

It’s safe to say, he did indeed get lucky.

DELANEY

One day, when we’re old and surrounded by gorgeous grandchildren, I will look into your eyes and smile, knowing you really were the love of my life.

—Delaney’s Secret Thoughts

“Thank you so much, Nonna. I really appreciate it,” I tell Ryker’s great-grandmother over the phone as I jot down the last few instructions for his favorite meal. “And you’re sure this is the one?”

“The air is getting crisp, and I know my boy. Chicken noodle soup and fresh bread from the bakery, and he will be a happy man, Delaney. He was always the easiest-going of all my grandsons. You come over next weekend while the team is away, and I’ll teach you to make the sauce and meatballs. Okay?”

“I’d love that,” I tell her, ignoring the emotion building up in my throat. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the way Ryker’s family has accepted me, but it’s a pretty amazing thing to experience. “Thank you again.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye.” I end the call and fold my paper in half, ready to lock up and get out of work.

I should be able to handle soup, right?

I mean, it’s not like you can burn soup. It’s a liquid, not a solid... right?

Before I can overthink it, I grab Tori’s leash. “Come on, Notorious. Let’s go get that box of pots and pans I packed up the other day.”

She lets out a happy chuff. She knows it’s time to go home, and home means Ryker, and Ryker means treats.

The kitchen was installed this morning, and in true fashion for the two of us, Ryker and I hadn’t thought to get any pots and pans yet. He’d wanted to, but I convinced him there was nothing wrong with the set I had here. It’s not like I’d ever really used them.

Looking at them now, they do look a little worse for wear.

Oh well, they’ll do for our first home-cooked meal in our new kitchen.

I figure food is my husband’s love language. Or more specifically, feeding me.

So what better way to express my love than by doing the same for him with his favorite meal. I doubt it will be as good as Nonna’s, but it’s the thought, right? And if he’s still hungry after dinner, I’m sure I can think of something he can spend the night eating.

For a hot minute, I stand in my old kitchen, wondering if I should give up on the plan to make him dinner and just offer myself up as a main course instead. Nonna may think his favorite meal is chicken noodle soup. But I’m pretty sure I might just come before that...

“You’re a hard lady to track down these days, Ms. Rousseau.”

What the fuck?

My head snaps to the door Detective Brooks stands in front of, and I freeze. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

His head tilts slowly, a creepy, almost catatonic-like gaze staring back at me. He pulls the toothpick from between hislips and points it at me with the strangest smile on his face. Almost non-existent. Definitely creepy as fuck.

“But it’s not actually your apartment anymore, is it, Ms. Rousseau?” He takes a step and shoves the metal front door closed behind him with his foot. And something about the snick of it closing has me panicking.