Page 44 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)

“Your cases will still be there Monday. That’s an order, Detective.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m in my car, but I’m not going home.

Or maybe I am.

It’s been a while since I’ve driven the streets around my childhood home and guilt kicks me in the ass.

I need to visit Mom more often than I do.

But normally she stops in to see me and I don’t have to.

I don’t recognize the car in the driveway, and I grab my gun from the lockbox in my car, tucking it into the back of my pants, regretting I hadn't brought a holster with me.

I didn't think I would need it.

Who the fuck is here?

I don’t knock, don’t go through the front, but sneak around the side of the house, opening the back gate. I’m relieved the WD-40 I used last time I was here fixed the squeak and doesn’t alert anyone to my presence.

Walking on the balls of my feet, I make my way around the house, the sliding glass door giving me a clear view of Mom’s living room, where she’s in the arms of a man I do recognize.

My dad’s ex-partner.

Roberto De Luca. Rob for as long as I’ve known him. Uncle Rob when I was a kid.

I didn't think I could handle any more surprises today.

Then the universe said, “Hold my beer.”

As I watch, he spins her out, then back to him in their dance, his face lowering to hers.

“What the fuck?” I ask, opening the sliding glass door, and the two break apart like guilty teenagers.

“Murphy James O’Connell!” My mother’s triple name still has the ability to turn my ears flaming hot, her softer brogue after years in the United States still trilling over my name.

“Murphy, what brings you here?” Rob asks.

The question may be superficial, but the tone of the room is strained, embarrassment dancing around the three of us while the music still plays from the radio speakers.

“I could ask you the same thing. What the hell are you doing here with my mother?” I growl in his direction.

Suddenly the man who became like a second father to me is a stranger.

He has the courtesy to look sheepish, but it doesn’t make him drop his hand where it's wrapped around Mom’s waist.

I have the irrational urge to step between them, to sever the connection.

“The last time I checked, mo mhac, I was your mother and not the other way round,” Mom says, using the nickname she’s had for me since I was little.

The way her eyebrow arches, I know I am treading on dangerous ground.

But what the hell? Could the universe throw me for any bigger of a fucking loop?

First, Leigh. Then, Scott and Vanderweel. Now, this? Mom and Rob?

With a swallow, I realize a break might be best. I walk to the hall closet, finding the gun safe Dad installed all those years ago and put my own weapon inside, attempting to ignore there's another gun in there that isn’t Dad’s.

It’s Rob’s.

He may be retired, but I know he still carries. He and I just went to the range a few months ago to catch up. And he never mentioned dating my mother.

Is that what they're doing?

“Are you two a couple now?” I ask, shutting the safe and turning to face them.

Mom and Rob nod in unison.

Fuck.

It’s like I’ve been sucker punched in the stomach.

“Do Quinn and Riley know?” I ask, protective big brother rising to the top of the swirling emotions resembling the tilt-a-whirl at the state fair.

Again, they nod.

Fuck. I was the last to know.

“They…they’ve given us their blessing, Murphy. We’d like yours as well,” Rob says.

“Blessing? For what?” Because as much as my mind is whirling, I don’t connect the dots.

Mom lifts her left hand, a shiny ring having replaced the wedding set Dad bought them when they were first married.

“Rob’s asked me to marry him, Murphy. And I’ve agreed.”

Ring. Marry. Agreed.

The world spins around me as I'm battered by waves of emotions. Surprise is understandable. But the sorrow zipping through me like a knife isn’t.

Dad’s been gone a long time.

But Mom never talked about finding someone else.

So it’s a fresh wound on top of a scar—almost like I’ve been betrayed.

At least I can recognize enough to know I need to keep my mouth shut. I want to be happy for Mom and Rob. But I’m not there yet.

“I need some water,” I mutter and spin on my heel for the kitchen.

The kitchen still looks the same as it did when I was a kid, but there are small changes. A second coffee cup next to Mom’s. A new picture. A bottle of olive oil on the counter.

Mom joins me a few minutes later.

“How about some tea?” she asks, pushing me out of the way and already turning on the electric kettle and pulling down a plate for cookies.

The smell of her homemade chocolate chip cookies wafts up when she opens the jar and my mouth waters.

Traitor.

This isn't something to fix with cookies and tea. I'm not a teenager nursing a broken heart.

But cookies can't hurt .

She hands me the plate and I move to the kitchen table, sitting in my normal spot while Mom finishes preparing the tea.

How many times have I watched her do this? A hundred? A thousand? Anytime I had an issue and we needed to talk, this was our routine.

But it’s not the same. Will it ever be again?

She finishes and brings both cups over to the table, handing me one before she slides into her spot.

I take a sip, scalding the roof of my mouth and wincing.

“You never did have the patience to let it cool. Ever since you were little,” Mom says, smiling as she blows on her cup but doesn’t take a sip.

I ease the burn with a cookie before focusing my attention on her.

“Why didn’t you tell me? How long has this been going on?” I ask, not sure if I’m more angry or hurt that I’m the last to know.

She reaches over, laying her hand on mine, and squeezes.

“You know Rob and I have been friends since your Dad passed. It wasn’t until about six months ago he admitted he had developed feelings for me. He asked me out to dinner. But as a date rather than friends. And when he kissed me?—”

“I don’t want to know,” I say, pulling my hand out from under hers to cover my ears.

She laughs.

“You act like you’re still a boy, mo mhac, but don’t forget it was me you admitted it to when you lost your virginity when you were sixteen. Not your father.”

Fuck, that had been awkward. And as much as I’d thought about talking to Dad, Mom and I had sat at this table when I missed curfew because of what I had been doing.

“Now, as I was saying, when he kissed me, I realized I returned those feelings for him. They’d grown so gradually through the years neither of us noticed. Until it was the only thing we could see.”

“What about Dad? Is this what he would want?” A lump sits on my vocal cords, making it hard to ask, my voice cracking over the words.

Mom’s smile dims, growing wistful. Tears burn my nose and I have to blink to get rid of the moisture blurring my vision.

Fuck. Dad should still be here. He shouldn’t have had to die.

“Did you know we talked about it before he passed? He used to tell me he didn’t want me to be alone. He always wanted my happiness. Even if something happened to him. Bhí sé ina comhpháirtí anam.”

He was the person of my soul .

Fuck. Lifting my hand to my heart, I rub at the ache there. Because I truly know what that means now.

“Rob makes me happy. He loves me. And I love him. He doesn’t replace your dad. Not in here.” She lifts a hand to her heart. “But my heart has more love to give.”

Isn’t that what I should want? Her happiness? She’s the best woman I know. She deserves to be happy, and if Rob makes her happy, shouldn’t I support them?

“You’re sure he makes you happy?” I ask, studying her expression.

The love shining from her eyes is all the proof I need. The grief of Dad’s death is still there, but softened. A dull ache versus the sharp one that existed when I first sat down.

She nods.

“I do.”

“It’s going to take me some time to get used to it, but if he makes you happy, that’s what I want too, Mom. But if he hurts you, I’ll kick his ass.” I raise my voice.

“He went out to the porch to give us some privacy,” she says.

“I’ll still tell him the same thing,” I mutter, and take a sip of my now-cool tea.

“He expects nothing less. Now what brings you here to see me? I know you’ve been busy with packing.”

“I haven’t been. Packing, that is. But I have been busy,” I tell her.

Over four chocolate chip cookies and a cup of tea, I tell Mom everything.

The wedding. Leigh. The errors on the reports.

The situation with Ellis on Monday. She already knew about the officer who died in the line of duty, having heard from Rob, but her look of disappointment when I tell her I’ve decided I don’t want the same fate for Leigh as for her is enough to have me second-guessing everything I’ve done to this point.

“Murphy, the world will bring trouble to your doorstep whether you look for it or not. Yet here you are borrowing trouble like you have a shortage of it. If you love her, fight for her. Love helps things work out the way they’re meant to.

I knew what I was getting when I signed on to be a policeman’s wife.

And even knowing everything I know now, I would not change it.

Not for the world. I want that great love for you, mo mhac. Just as I want it for your sisters.”

“But—”

“No more buts. If I let you, you could argue yourself out of anything. But love isn’t meant to be argued with. It’s meant to be embraced. Now take your dumb arse to her and apologize. Get on your knees and beg forgiveness. And, if you’re smart, you’ll marry her.”

I jolt at the thought before allowing the idea to wrap me in a warm blanket.

Marry her.

Yeah, I think I could.

I just have to convince her to forgive me first.