Page 83 of Ciaran

I cock an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yep.” She emphasizes the p.

I laugh. “Then, let’s go.”

We stop off at her favorite deli to grab dinner. When we arrive home, the basement is, thankfully, empty, so I put the dinner in the fridge, then sit on the sofa, patting the space beside me.

“Well,” she says impatiently. “Hurry up. The suspense is killing me.”

“Draven’s asked me to buy into his private investigative firm and work alongside him.” Senior figures at the NYPD had “persuaded” my best friend to leave the force eighteen months ago, after his unconventional methods of policing fell out of favor. Since then, his customer base has exploded.

“He has?” Her brow wrinkles. “What are you thinking? I know how much being a cop means to you.”

I bite my lip. He asked me a couple of weeks ago, but I’ve been mulling it over. Mia’s right. Being a cop does matter to me, or rather it did. The job is getting more dangerous, and it’s been playing on my mind. Only last week, a coworker got shot in the stomach. Thankfully, he pulled through, but it was a close call. It’s not as if I need the money, either. I have choices, and now that I’m with Mia, it’s time to put her first.

“I’m thinking… yes.”

A beaming smile spreads across her face, and she throws herself into my lap, almost strangling me in the process.

“Thank God.”

I ease her back. “You’re glad?”

“Yeah.” Her mouth bunches. “Every time you’re on shift, I worry you won’t come back to me. I watch the news, Ciaran.”

If I was sitting on the fence, that’s what would push me over. I’ll miss being a cop, sure, but there’s a certain excitement at trying out a new career, and I’ve missed working alongside Draven.

“Does this mean you have to give back the uniform?” Mia trails her fingertip over my chest.

I throw back my head and laugh. “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

“Good. My eyes only, though, right? No more turning up to college looking so hot.”

I wink. “You got it, beautiful. Okay, your turn. Shoot.”

She climbs off my lap, and a bite of worry jolts through me. She’s chewing her lip. She only does that when something is bothering her.

“Talk to me.”

She opens her purse, takes out an envelope, and passes it to me. “This arrived today.”

I open the flap, remove the papers, unfold them and scan the first page. There’s no need to read any further.

“It’s final?” I ask. “This is it. You’re actually divorced?”

She nods. “Tanner Fuckhead is no more.”

I chuckle. When I’d told her Draven’s nickname for her now ex-husband, she’d thought it hilarious and had proceeded to call him that ever since. She even told her counselor, who responded that if Millie needed to refer to her tormentor in that way, it was fine by her.

“How do you feel?”

She pulls her lips to one side. “Relieved. A little sad, and a lot annoyed that I let him control me for so many years. Time I could have spent with you.”

I wag my finger. “Uh-uh. We’re not going there.” I lift her arm and kiss the inside of her wrist. “Now is all that matters.” I press her into the couch, my arms either side of her head. “And I’ve got you all to myself.”

I go to kiss her, but she stops me. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you before I demand you take me into the bedroom and devour me.”

I can’t help but laugh, but I sit up, pulling her with me. “Get on with it, then. Devouring waits for no man or woman.”

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