Page 43 of The Love Losers

“I’m sorry, Mr. Smith,” Officer Richards says as she folds her hands on the tabletop. “My colleague can be a little…reactionary,and wedidget a phone call telling us someone was seen breaking and entering.”

Anthony gives me a sidelong glance. “Did this person by any chance sound like a thirteen-year-old in an adult’s body?”

“Dom wouldn’t do this!” I say, bumping him with my shoulder. “He’s our friend.”

Anthony gives me a stern look. “And he was there when it happened. Him and Gene.”

“Gene looks like he’d sleep through a hurricane.”

His expression firms, his jaw giving off major Mr. Darcy vibes. “If they didn’t do it, they might have seen someone else at the building.”

“Actually,” the officer says, adjusting in her chair. “The person who called in the tip was using a voice scrambler.

“And you didn’t find that suspicious?” Damien asks as he settles back in his seat, as comfortable here as he seems to be everywhere.

“I did,” she corrects. “But you’d be surprised how often it happens now that it’s so easy for people to access this sort of thing. Everyone’s got some kind of skeleton in their closet, some reason they think we might bust them.”

I know I must be imagining it, but it feels like every person in the room turns to stare at me.

“Well, it wasn’t Dom,” I repeat, trying to sound calmer than I feel.

“Sure,” Officer Richards says in the same voice she uses to placate her idiot partner. “Of course not.” Turning to Anthony, she adds, “Now, tell me about the threat to your mother.”

Ultimately, Officer Richards says she’ll send someone to do a search of the warehouse. The call might have come from a concerned citizen, or someone who was hiding something in the warehouse and didn’t want the owner to find out.

Anthony gave me a significant look when she said that part, and I had to admit—to myself—that it didn’t seem entirely impossible that Dom might have been hiding weed or limited edition nerdy collector cards in the warehouse. Gene either, for that matter.

The third possibility is that the person who sent the threat to Mrs. Rosings also made the call, just to let Anthony know they’re watching.

I like that possibility least of all.

What happened in the warehouse was our moment, and someone took it from us. That makes me furious.

I’m grateful for the fury, mostly.

I’d much rather be furious than scared.

After our talk with Officer Richards, Nicole and Damien drive Anthony to his office, but before he can get out, I reach for his hand. He turns to me, his eyes intense, the gray so alive and deep tonight. It’s like galaxies writhe within them.

On second thought, maybe I need more sleep.

“I didn’t get you your ice cream, but I will,” he says. “It’s on my bucket list. We can cross that off before we go riding.”

“You still want to do all of that?” I feel something that had been broken earlier inside of me be rebuilt. I’d figured after the last couple of nightmare hours he would decide this side quest with me was too much trouble and he’d be better off aligning himself with someone unlikely to cause him any grief. Like Leigh, the accountant.

He smiles at me. “All of it.”

“But you haven’t picked out the rest of your list.”

“I will. Anything to get to number five.”

Then he gives me a smile that shows both dimples, and it’s a religious experience, especially since his hand is still tucked within mine. I run my finger over the back, not wanting to let go even though I know it’s time.

Heat radiates through me as I admit, “I agree.”

“We could go for some McWhatsits now,” Nicole says. “I know they never like to make those ice cream things at night, but if they try to tell me their machine’s broken, I’m gonna say I’ll come in and fix it, if you know what I mean.”

“They want to get ice creamtogether, Nic,” Damien says, reaching over and ruffling her hair. “Alone.”

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