Page 29 of Detectives in Love

He doesn’t answer right away, just flicks a glance toward the living room, checking whether Mrs. Waverly or my sister might be listening in.

When he finally speaks, his tone is deliberately casual. “As you’ve probably noticed, Newton, my nephew doesn’t trust many people.” He pauses. “In fact, I can’t think of anyone he does…except you.”

There’s an edge under his words, almost accusatory. He waits, expecting a reaction, but I give him nothing. When I stay silent, he goes on.

“Xavier may seem arrogant, aloof, overly sure of himself, but underneath that, he’s—” Ernest hesitates, exhaling like he hates admitting it. “Fragile. He gets attached to people. Sometimes too attached for his own good.”

His gaze sharpens, studying me, like he’s testing whether I already know exactly what he’s implying.

“And?” I ask, tension curling in my chest.

“Don’t toy with him.” His voice hardens. “There are plenty of attractive women out there, Newton. Pick one and settle down.”

A sharp laugh escapes me, my pulse spiking. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Ernest’s gaze doesn’t waver. “I’m just saying.” He shrugs, though there’s a flicker of defensiveness in it. “Get married. Have kids. Don’t give him mixed signals.”

Mixed signals? Heat rushes up my neck, burning all the way to my ears.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The edge in my voice slips through before I can stop it. “And no offense, but my personal life isn’t your business.”

“Yours—no.” Ernest cuts in quickly, his stare still locked on mine. “But don’t drag my nephew into tabloid scandals. The Ormond family has a reputation to uphold.”

Welp. Didn’t expect him to be the one believing headlines, considering he’s got our apartment wired like a police sting.

“Tabloid scandals?” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “You know, Ernest, I figured the rest of the world would talk, but Xavier’s own family?”

“It’s not just about the papers,” Ernest says evenly. “I can’t have him getting hurt.”

“Thanks for the concern,” I say flatly. “But right now, I think you’re the one doing the hurting.”

“Newton—”

“It’s been great seeing you,” I cut in, flashing my most acidic smile before walking out of the kitchen.

As soon as I step back into the living room, Monica looks up from her tea. “Everything okay?”

I nod.

“Well, I should be going,” Ernest announces, following me in and heading straight for the door. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Waverly. Miss Doherty. Mr. Doherty.”

“Ernest.”

“I’ll see you out, Mr. Ormond,” Mrs. Waverly says, rising from her chair. “I should run too—need to get dinner started before Mr. Waverly’s back from the bakery. Get well soon, Mr. Doherty.”

After the goodbyes, Mrs. Waverly leaves with Ernest, and suddenly it’s just Monica and me. Silence lingers for a moment.

“Nice place,” she says, glancing around with a small smile. Her hair’s pulled back into a ponytail, bangs falling loose across her forehead. “Cozy.”

“Yeah.” I nod, feeling oddly awkward. It’s strange, having Monica here, in the apartment I share with Xavier. These two parts of my life have never really overlapped before.

She gets up and starts wandering, her gaze drifting over the room. It lands on Xavier’s robe belt tossed across the couch, then on one of his shirts hanging off a chair. Finally, her eyes stop on a pair of his socks draped over the armrest.

She grins. “No mistaking guys live here, that’s for sure.”

I chuckle. “Yeah. I try to keep it clean, but Xavier’s a lost cause.”

She smirks, nodding, then strolls into the kitchen. I follow. She looks around, her gaze shifting toward the door at the end of the hallway. “Is that your room?”