Page 69 of Dancing in the Dark

“He was pissy because I left the function last night without saying goodbye. Like I owed him one,” she spits out. “Then I ignored him as best I could today. He’s not a man who enjoys being ignored, so then he blew up my phone demanding answers, and when I ignored him some more, he barged his way into my apartment.”

“Did he hurt you?” I swap our grips and study her wrists. “Are you sore?”

“No.” She wraps her arms around my torso and lays her cheek on my chest. Exhaling a shuddering breath, she squeezes extra tight and draws me back from the ledge my mind stands perilously close to. “I’m not hurt. I’m not scared. I’m annoyed. And now I’m hugging you in front of Detective Malone, which means he’ll make a whole big thing about it, and then he’ll tell Chief Mayet, who’ll make an even bigger thing about it.” She slides her hand beneath the back of my shirt and splays her palm over my spine. “Chief Mayet will tell Doctor Emeri, and then it’s just…” With another shuddering breath, she rids her body of the tension and frenzied energy she no longer wants to carry. “It’s a mess. But it’s fine. I don’t even care.”

“Your fiancé?”

I’m such a dunce. A pure, simple-minded, emotionally inept fucking idiot. But then I drop my face to the top of her hair and bury my nose amongst the fragrant locks.

“Him? What were you even thinking?”

“Shut up.” She chokes out a tearful snicker and pulls back until, somehow, she has both hands beneath my shirt, her palms warming my hip bones. “It was a long time ago, and now it’s done. Are you okay?” She searches my eyes, her willow stare sparkling with grief.

“Kinda all hopped up on unspent energy and a desire to cave a man’s skull in.” I cup her face, smooshing her cheeks between my hands, and study her all over. “Are you okay?”

She nods. Short, fast, jerky nods that somehow bring more tears to her eyes. “I’m fine. Mia’s outside? She’s okay?”

“We were coming up to hang out with you. You told me to call after work, but I kept getting your voicemail, so then I figured we could drop in. Maybe invite you over for dinner or something, but then…”

“Anderson.” She looks across to Archer and exhales a shaky breath. “Thank you for arriving when you did.”

“Not sure I did much, but…” His fingers tap-tap-tap a tense beat against the door. “You’re welcome.”

“Your arrival de-escalated the situation. Is Cato okay out there? Anderson would’ve had to pass them, so⁠—”

“He’s got himself under control.” He pushes away from the door and stalks closer, staring down into Sera’s eyes and gritting his teeth. “If he broke in, you can have him arrested.”

“No, he⁠—”

“If he touched you: arrested. Even if you let him in, if you asked him to leave, and he refused: arrested. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“Leave it alone. Please.” She swings desperate eyes up to me. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I don’t want to rehash our argument or press charges. I just want the whole thing to go away, so if we could…” Exhausted, she closes her eyes and groans. “Please, Charlie. Ask me out to dinner. Let me spend an hour or two pretending my life isn’t a friggin’ joke. And then, tomorrow⁠—”

“You’ll tell Lawrence to keep that pissant out of City Hall,” Archer growls.

“No, I’ll⁠—”

“Either you tell him, or I will.” He takes a single step back and looks from her to me. Her face. Mine. Her eyes. Mine. Slowly, his lips curl into a subtle grin. “And I get that this is the thing we’re not allowed to talk about. But…” He points between us. “I like it. Looks good on you both.”

She groans. “You’re gonna tell Chief Mayet, aren’t you?”

“Every teeny-tiny detail.” Laughing, he circles away. “Including, but not limited to, the bit right now, where you keep trying to sync your breath with his.” Stopping at the apartment door, he glances back with a smile. “Cato called and said we’ve got a turf war throwdown at Fifi’s place, and he was pissed about being benched because he was on babysitting duty. I’m gonna go down and grab them. Stop him before he teaches Moo the exact way to peel the veins from a man’s body with nothing more than a two-millimeter incision and a crochet hook. Wipe your face, Fifi.” He swings the door wide and steps into the hall. “Canoodle a little bit. You’ve got five minutes alone, then I’m bringing Moo up so she can see for herself her second and third favorite people on the planet are okay.”

25

SERAPHINA

Mia hasn’t let me go since the moment Cato carried her upstairs and into my apartment. She demanded I hug her on the couch, and then she demanded I hug her in the hall. She demanded I come to dinner at her home, and when I accepted and said I needed to change clothes, she demanded I continue hugging her all the way from my living room to my bedroom.

Then she sat on the end of my bed and demanded to watch me trade my sweatpants for a pair of jeans. My tank for a blouse.

Much to Cato’s unhappiness, she insisted on hugging me even as we left my apartment. As we moved down the stairs. Onto the sidewalk outside.

Charlie insisted she get down and walk on her own two feet.

But then a glittering black SUV pulled up at the curb, and a man—not Alfred—climbed out, opened the doors, and nodded to Cato as he slid into the front passenger seat.

There was a brand-new, professionally installed, five-point-harness kiddie seat in the middle of the back seat, which means that although Mia didn’t get to sit in my lap and hug the whole way to her apartment, she still got to hold my hand.