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Chapter Fifteen
Alex
Catriona wants me to say I love her. Even I am not blind and deaf enough to have missed the signs. Back when she'd told me she's in love with me, I could dismiss that as… ah… nothing I need to worry about. I know I'm a bloody stupid arse and a bastard. Cat should have left me ages ago. Instead, she stayed and loved me and forgave me for not sharing my past with her. And now she has said those four words.
I love you, Alex.
So what if she said that? I didn't ask her to do it, which means I don't need to say it in return. Or maybe it means I should have said it yesterday when she spoke the words. It's too late now. Maybe I might possibly have wanted to… I don't know what I wanted.
Today, the morning after Catriona dropped her word bomb on me, she has gone to the campus to do more research in the library. That leaves me with nothing to do since this is Sunday. I have no classes to teach and no lesson plans to, ah, plan. I sit in our living room, watching ruddy awful television shows. And all the while, I keep slipping my hand into my trouser pocket to finger the diamond ring I'd meant to give to Cat on that cursed night. Do I still want to give it to her? What if I do? Maybe I don't. The fact that I carry it around in my pocket every day could mean nothing.
Have I lost my mind? I should probably have myself committed.
The doorbell rings while I'm still obsessing over what I should or should not have told Catriona and when or when not I should have done that. I mute the telly and shuffle to the door, swinging it open.
And I freeze.
The bloke staring back at me… I recognize him. I took photographs of this man and Gloria Harris going at it like chimpanzees on acid. Yes, the chief of police stands on my doorstep, glowering at me.
"Yes?" I say, as if I don't give a toss. "If you're selling band candy, I've already bought several cartons of that."
"Band candy?" Darnell Miller shakes his head. "Do I look like a high school nerd?"
"No, but you do seem like the sort who would play the oboe."
"Don't get cute with me, dirtbag."
"Why not? I am very cute, according to women." I casually slide my hands into my trouser pockets. "Just ask Gloria Harris."
"That's why I'm here. You upset her, and I'm gonna make it right."
"Are you?" I lean against the doorjamb, affecting an air of disinterest. "Go on, make it right."
Miller lifts his chin and smiles with smug self-assurance. "You think you're so damn smart, don't you? Well, I know who you really are."
"How nice for you."
"Cut the crap." Miller jabs a finger into my chest. "When Gloria told me what you did to her, I contacted my buddy at the Metropolitan Police in London."
"Interesting. You're quite an enterprising chap, aren't you?"
He stabs that finger into my chest again. "You won't be so full of piss and vinegar after you hear what I found out."
"I don't think you understand the phrase. Piss and vinegar means I have energy and enthusiasm." I give him my best sarcastic smile. "Thank you for the compliment, Chief Miller."
"Stop trying to distract me. You're an arrogant jackass, and I'm going to take you down so many pegs that you won't know what hit you."
This man is a moron. But sometimes that sort can become the most dangerous enemies. They take irrational risks because they are imbeciles.
"Tell me what you want," I say. "This conversation is growing tiresome."
"Fine by me." He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a sheaf of rolled-up papers. Then he thrusts them at me. "Look at this."
Naturally, he sounds pleased with himself. Very pleased.
I pluck the papers from his hand, unrolling the pages. Then I stare at the words printed on the top sheet. Stare at them for so long that my eyes begin to burn because I've stopped blinking. How in the world? He can't—This is not possible, yet the evidence stares right back at me from the page I'm holding. But I will not give this cretin the pleasure of making me angry. That's what he wants, I'm sure. Probably so he can arrest me for assaulting a police officer.
I roll up the papers and offer them to him. "That's an interesting story, but I prefer fiction."
