Chapter 2

The grapes on the table were still glistening with water droplets. One rolled over to my hand, bumping against my knuckles.

I picked it up and popped it in my mouth. It was so sour and sent a jolt through my tongue.

My phone buzzed again. It was a voice message from Alex. The background was so quiet that it felt like he was in a library. "Rosy, get some sleep early. It's windy tonight. I might not be back until the wee hours."

I played the voice message three times. It was not because I wanted to hear his voice, but to see if I could catch any sounds from a bar in the background.

There was nothing like that. He made sure there was no noise when he was lying.

I replied with only one word: [Okay.]

As the screen dimmed, I saw my face reflected in the dark glass. My eyes were bright, but my lips were set in a straight line.

Right then, it hit me. When someone was fooled to a certain degree, they wouldn't break down crying first. Instead, they'd turn unnaturally polite.

*****

At 1:47 AM, I heard the sound of keys turning in the entryway.

When Alex came in, he stood at the doorway for a bit, like he was checking if someone was lying in wait to catch him.

I was sitting on the couch with a magazine on my lap. The TV was on mute, and the female lead on screen was crying her heart out.

She was lost in her own world, and I was in mine. We didn't get in each other's way.

Alex paused while changing his shoes. "Why are you still up?"

I flipped a page in my magazine. "Waiting for the star DUI cop to get home and enjoying the feeling of living in a safe city."

He let out a chuckle and walked over to ruffle my hair. "Still so sharp with your words."

The second his hand touched me, I caught a whiff of mint mixed with alcohol.

It wasn't the fresh kind from chewing gum. It was the stench that the restroom air freshener at the bar couldn't mask: mint, cigarette smoke, perfume, plus a bit of cloying sparkling wine.

I looked up at him.

Alex was handsome, with sharp brow bones and clear eyes, especially noticeable when he was in uniform.

The first time we met, I'd drifted over a road line on my scooter, and he pulled me over. He tapped my front basket and said, "Miss, your basket is full of veggies, not a get-out-of-ticket-free card."

I was clutching a cabbage, so embarrassed I wished I could toss myself and the scooter into a salad and call it a day.

He gave me a ticket and then tightened my loose brake cable for me.

Later, we bumped into each other again at a friend's dinner. Alex still remembered that cabbage and joked, "You ride like you're rushing from one event to the next, and I was out there like blocking a wedding convoy."

I laughed so hard that I nearly spat out my soup.

Back then, I thought Alex had a snarky tongue, but he was upright underneath.

Now, as he stood in front of me, there was a tiny patch of silver glitter on his jacket cuff, like he'd brushed up against someone's sparkly dress.

I fixed my gaze on that tiny shiny mark.

He noticed where I was looking and brushed it off without a care. "Some girl tripped on the street. I helped her up. I probably got it from her clothes."

I closed the magazine. "She took a spill at Southville Intersection?"

"Yeah," he answered, a bit too fast.

I nodded. "Is it the latest trend to wear slip dresses and have a fall at Southville Intersection? How fashionable. Maybe the traffic safety campaign should add a new tip: don't go out at night dressed like a walking champagne tower."

Alex's smile faded. "Rosy, what are you trying to say?"

I was named Rosy Snyder, hinting at roses.

My mom used to say I was sweet as a rose when I was little, but as I got older, she realized that sweetness came with a sharp edge. I always knew where to poke.

I didn't call him out directly. Instead, I slid the bar member event confirmation slip across the coffee table. The paper made a soft sound as it moved over the glass.

Alex glanced down and frowned. "Did you go through my folder?"

"You left it next to the grapes. I thought it was some fruit origin certificate," I replied.

"It's for work."

"So hitting up bar member nights counts as work?"

He sat down across from me, leaning back like he was about to interrogate me.

I knew that pose all too well. Every time we argued, he did this. He'd skip explaining first and put on that official air, acting as if any more questions from me would count as interfering with police work.

"We've got a special crackdown on drunk driving going on recently. We needed to check out the bars. I ran into Sophie by chance," Alex said.

"So it was a coincidence you walked in holding her?" I shot back.

His eyes flickered for a split second. It was a tiny twitch, like car headlights sweeping across a rear-view mirror at night.

Strangely, I calmed down inside.

Alex fell silent for a couple of seconds, and then his tone softened. "She was wasted and could barely stand. I couldn't leave her stranded on the street, could I?"

I looked at him. "You could've supported her."

"Carrying her was safer."

"Officer Carter, you've got a pretty loose definition of what's safe."

He rubbed his brow. "Rosy, quit talking in that snarky tone. She's been going through a rough patch lately.

"She got divorced, her family life is a mess, and she doesn't have anyone to rely on. Yeah, we dated once, but that's all history."

He looked away from me the second the word "history" left his mouth.