“Of course. It’s been forever since I last visited the house,” Kira said happily. Genuinely unbothered by the disdain dripping from Mom’s smile.
We headed through the suburb of Bay Ridge, passing rows of two-story, brick terrace houses with wrought iron banisters and wooden window shutters. Gradually, street by street, perfectly maintained small front lawns began to appear along the sidewalk. Lined with sculpted hedges, short garden walls, bird baths, and topiary bushes. The houses grew larger too, with fences dividing each one.
My family home was on Harbor Terrace along the waterside of Bay Ridge. The same street used in Blue Bloods for filming the Reagan home. It was a little fact about the neighborhood Dad was proud of. I think he thought he was some kind of Tom Selleck himself, just without the mustache.
The last time I went home was for Jane’s 16th birthday. When, like many conversations with my parents, they had tried their hardest to get me to move back. They never seemed to grasp the concept that I liked the little apartment I called home.
We made our way along the path to the porch, and passed the No Walking On Grass sign and the timed sprinklers, to where Dad was already waiting at the top of the stairs. He grinned broadly, spreading his arms wide as he said, “Hello, sweetheart,” and pulled me into a hug the second I got to the top of the porch steps. He was tall, which meant my feet were tiptoed for several seconds before he released me again.
“How’d things go with Oliver?” He pulled me under his arm, and we followed Mom and Jane inside, with Kira trailing behind. “I hear he’s quite the overachiever.”
Mom would’ve brought him into her little plan, but only as a spectator. She preferred to be in control of their meddling.
I shrugged awkwardly. “I wouldn’t know—”
“He’s got his pilot license and he’s studying engineering,” Mom said proudly. “His father is also the owner of many high-end tailors in New York City while his mother is a professional ballet teacher.”
“How long were you stalking his social media to find out that?” Jane murmured.
Mom waved off the comment as she headed into the sitting room to the right of the foyer. “He’s a perfect match for Lily.”
Jane raised her brow, giving me a sidelong look. How fun for you, she seemed to think.
We gathered in the warm and bright living room, taking our seats on the spotless couches while Mom disappeared through the door to the kitchen. Kira and I shared the couch under the window, Jane on the one opposite, while Dad dropped into his favorite armchair, pressing his lips together in a firm and faint smile, barely creasing the wrinkles in the corners of his blue eyes.
“So, Dad,” I said after a moment, palms clammy. “Mom said you had some big news?”
“Ah, yes— Kate, can you bring out those chocolate cookies too,” he called over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen and then turned to us again. “After many years on the force...”
Retiring. Please let it be that he’s retiring.
“And my commitment to cleaning the streets of organized crime—”
“Your father is being promoted to Detective Sergeant Whitmore,” Mom chimed as she walked in with a tray of chocolate chip cookies, a jug of lemonade, and glasses.
Dad sighed and rolled his eyes, slumping back in his chair in defeat.
“Isn’t that exciting?” Mom beamed as she placed the tray on the coffee table.
Jane grinned. “Do we get a new car?”
“Jane, please be a little more considerate,” Mom scolded before looking at me. “I see the good news has rendered Lily speechless.”
That was an understatement. All I could hear was the spike in my heart rate pounding in my ears until Kira bumped her shoulder into me.
“It's great news! Congratulations, Dad. You deserve it,” I said abruptly before taking a glass of lemonade and sipping at it to mask any signs of panic on my face — to quench the sudden dryness in my throat.
“Does that mean you’ll be working on bigger cases? Catching the real bad guys?” Jane asked as she picked up a cookie.
“Well, no. I’ve still got some loose ends with that Marcus Woods murder case.” He grabbed a cookie himself. “There’s a strong possibility it was linked to an underground fight club—”
I inhaled my lemonade too quickly, choked as the bubbles burnt my throat, and blew it back out through my nostrils where it stung even more. Kira rubbed my back while my mother handed me a box of tissues for the mess I had sprayed on myself.
“Sorry,” I breathed. Burping (much to my mother’s disgust while Jane laughed) and smiling sheepishly. “What were you saying, Dad?”
Dad frowned at me for a moment before he continued.
Once again, I couldn’t hear over the pounding in my ears, the roaring in my head. There was a panic attack bubbling just under the surface of my skin, but I sat in silence.
