Page 33

FAITH

T he mirror wasn’t kind, showing the dark circles under my eyes that my concealer couldn’t quite cover.

The sleepless nights were wearing on me.

“This is as good as it gets,” I muttered to myself, brushing my lashes with the final strokes of mascara.

The prospect of dinner with a friend should have cheered me up, but it was the last thing I wanted to do.

Laura texted when she was outside, and wore a big smile and a tiny dress as she waved from her red Mustang convertible.

Settling into the passenger seat, I asked, “To what do I owe this impromptu visit?”

“You’re just lucky I met a hot guy at the Islander when I was down here last time. He’s working tonight.”

“When? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“The night before I left. And because I wasn’t sure if it was going anywhere.”

“Well, is it? ”

“Maybe… we’ll see,” she shrugged with a grin. “But the good news is that he can get me a room when they’re not sold out, so I can come visit.”

I gave her a look. “You can come visit anytime. You know you can stay with me!”

Laura raised a brow as she was backing out of my driveway. “Um, you have a one bedroom. And I don’t do couches.”

“For an admin clerk at the Miami PD, you’re awfully damn bougie.”

“I have standards,” she said indignantly. “And someday a knight in shining armor will whisk me away from that hell.”

“Shut up, you like your job,” I said, already feeling more relaxed.

“Unfortunately I only meet cops and criminals doing it.”

“Not great candidates for that knight position…” I conceded.

“This guy has potential though,” Laura grinned. “Who knows, I might end up down in the islands with you.”

“That would be amazing. I hope it works out.” I could use a friend in the Keys.

Turning south onto US-1, Laura glanced my way. “I’ve talked about me this whole time. How are you ? How’s it going with that Coulter guy? You never filled me in on the deets. You guys must be hot and heavy by now.”

“Not so hot. But very heavy,” I answered with a sigh.

Her brows scrunched together, mouth twisting quizzically. “What’s that mean? ”

“Well, when I told you we hung out, it seemed he had been cleared as a suspect. Obviously, or I wouldn’t have slept with him.”

“But…?”

I told her the Cliff’s Notes version of how Coulter was still a suspect and that Oscar really had it in for him and continued to build a case against him.

“When it’s too complicated, sometimes it’s best to just move on,” Laura said matter-of-factly.

That was easy for her to say. She could swipe left and erase a guy after she decided he wasn’t a match. It was different with Coulter.

“What if he’s the one?” I asked, my voice unsure.

She turned to me with a scowl on her face. “What if you have a thing for toxic relationships?”

I glared at her before turning my gaze forward. “Just as likely,” I admitted.

We rode without speaking for the last half-mile to the Italian Fisherman. After we’d ordered, I had to break the awkward silence.

“How’s your mom?” She’d gone through a nasty divorce last year.

Laura dipped a bread roll in olive oil, smiling. “She’s great. Turns out that Dad cheating was the best thing that ever happened to her. She is spending more time with her friends. They play pickleball so much I think she might be having an affair with the instructor.”

“Seriously?” I giggled, which felt good .

“Yeah. He’s pretty hot too, in a 60-year-old Tom Selleck sort of way.”

“Tell me more about this Islander guy,” I prodded, as the waiter appeared with our pastas. Laura gushed about how fun he was in the sack, not even trying to keep her voice down. Flashbacks of sex with Coulter kept filling my mind and stealing my appetite.

There was a lull while Laura played with her pasta with her fork and I could tell she was debating on whether to ask before she did.

“I know you really like Coulter. But do you think it’s possible that he did it?”

“No. I’m sure he’s innocent. I’ve been working two steps behind Oscar, trying to dispel every doubt he brings forth. All the real evidence shows that Coulter didn’t do it.”

“Phew. Because killing his ex when she finally found happiness would be a major red flag…” Laura said, deadpan.

After we had a good laugh, I said, “Doesn’t matter now anyway. He said he never wants to see me again.”

Laura chuckled. “Good luck with that in Smuggler’s Cove. This town is so small you’ll probably run into him three times a week.”

“Unfortunately, I keep having to see him in the INVESTIGATION.”

“Whatever,” she waved her hand, dismissing the discomfort I’d divulged. “If he’s mad at you for doing your job, you’re better off without him.”

Then why did it feel so much better with him?