“We gave it a really good go, though, didn’t we?” I loathe my croaking voice. My humiliating weakness.I want so badly to walk away with my dignity still intact. “Two weddings,” I murmur. “Almost two years. We’ve solved a lot of cases together. Brought justice and closure to a lot of families.”
“Minka—”
“We did great things.” I inhale a shaking, horrifyingly shuddering breath. “I hope we can maintain professionalism, even in light of…” Sniffling, I bring my shoulders up in a shrug. “Ya know. Things.”
“You wish to remain professional?” His lips quirk up on one side. It’s an almost smile, though I know him well enough to know it’s the kind of smile a sociopath flashes immediately before doing something monumentally deranged. “You think we’ll just… continue on, Doctor Mayet? You, the chief M.E. Me, a homicide detective whose literal job will have me inside this building every single week. Every single day, if I can come up with an excuse for it.”
“You’re searching for excuses?” Fuck it. And fuck professionalism, too. “Archer, you’re the one who asked me to go! You’re the one who?—”
“I want to discuss it,” he grits out. “At dinner. Tonight.” He fists the hem of my skirt and drags me six inches closer. “Seven o’clock. I know we had a fight, and I know we said some big, life-changing shit. Both of us did.”
“Yeah.” I tear my skirt from his grip and move a whole step to the left. “You asked me not to come back to the house.”Don’tcry. Don’t cry. Don’t you fucking cry!“In plain terms, Archer, as plain as they come,youbroke up withme.”
“No, I?—”
“Yes! I questioned whether you were reconsidering our vows, and I offered you time and space to think about things. That’s on me, and though my intentions were well-meaning, I still did that. I put the first wedge in our marriage. But when I realized my mistake and called to tell you I was coming home,youtold me not to bother. That’s onyou. I intend to honor your wishes, and I’m fully prepared to continue our working relationship, placing the promises we each made—me, to the dead, and you, to justice—at the forefront of every decision I make. Eventually, once emotions have calmed, this probably won’t hurt so much.”
He laughs. It’s the mocking, cruel laughter of a true Bond villain moments before he blows shit up. “Look at you, trying to convince me this robot version of you is real.”
“Archer—”
“Or that you’re capable of maintaining a professional front when it comes to us.”
I tighten my eyes to slits. “Are you implying I can’t?”
He snorts and slowly, tormentingly, pushes up from his chair. “I’m saying you’ve already made promises, Mayet,twice: Till death do we part. I asked for time to think things through. I didnotask for a fucking divorce, and if you think this robot act is convincing, even for a second, you’re more delusional than I ever gave you credit for.” He inches closer, closer, so his chest stops a mere inch away, his body towering over mine, and his aftershave slams to the base of my lungs, just like it used towhen we were new. “Dinner. Tonight. Seven o’clock. We’ll talk about this.”
My phone vibrates on my desk, an incoming text that drags me back to reality and theotherpromises I’ve made. Theotherplans I’ve committed to. “Unfortunately, I’m unavailable for dinner tonight.”
His eyes darken to a fiery, furious glare. “You have alternate plans?”
I do, actually. With another man.
“Alternate plans aside, I’m not convinced you’re in this for life.” I swallow the aching, sticky lump of heartache stuck squarely at the base of my throat. “We could hang out tonight, talk, and argue. Probably even angry-fuck some of the tension away. But ultimately, you don’t want this version of me. Every single time I do these things—the Agosti types of things—you come undone. When shit got real, instead of running toward me, you ran away.”
“I asked for a minute to think things through! I’m doing exactly whatyousuggested we do.”
I take a step back and exhale a shaky breath. “My best and worst idea ever.”
“Minka—”
“It’s possible we’re just not suited.”Don’t cry. Please, for the love of God, don’t cry. “Maybe we rushed, and because you were so panicked about the very thing we’re arguing about now, you jumped headfirst into marriage, hoping a wedding certificate would be the glue that could hold us together.”
“Wearesuited,” he snarls. “And we didn’t rush. I waited thirty-onelongyears for you.”
My eyes betray me, spilling over and destroying everything Iwork so hard for.Robots don’t cry!“What we are is special,” I rasp. “It’s beautiful and wild and pure and being loved by you was so,sohealing for someone like me.” I move toward him, incapable of staying away, and place my hand on his thundering heart. “I know it hurts right now. Breakups are always dramatic and emotional and painful. But eventually, things will get better. When they do, I hope you know how much I loved you, too.”
“Loved?” His face drains white, paler than I’ve ever seen it before. Paler than that time inside Emilio Pastore’s house, and his older brother was dying on the floor. Paler than the time I got caught up in front of another man’s gun, or the time he came to understand the reason for most of my trauma. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, while perfect, beautiful emerald eyes flicker between mine. “Don’t give up on us so quickly,” he groans. “Don’t throw us away.”
Too late. I’m the woman whose own father didn’t love her enough to stick around for.
“Eventually, I hope to reach a point where looking into your eyesdoesn’tmake me want to tear mine out and throw them into oncoming traffic.”
“Minka—”
I turn and shove through my door, crossing the gleaming white tile and smacking the call button on the elevator. I poke the button over and over and over again, even knowing it doesn’t make the dumb thing move faster, but when the neutral-cube-of-truth-telling-and-something-something opens, I come toe-to-toe, almost nose-to-nose, with Aubree.
Her smile drops into a frown the instant our eyes meet.
