“What’s so—why are you laughing?”
I couldn’t even breathe.
5
ELI
Icould have called. It would have been easy to pick up the phone and call Cel and ask him to go to dinner with me and the mayor’s wife. But I wanted to see him. I always wanted to see him.
“Why are you all rumpled?” Cel asked, smoothing out the lapels of my jacket, reaching for and adjusting my tie and then fiddling with my collar. “It’s like you worked out in this suit or something.”
“My morning was stupid,” I told him.
“Well, your night’s going to be even dumber,” he assured me with a scoff.
But as long as he was with me, it would be all right. Just walking him to the practice room, his arm in mine, talking about how Senan had now decided he was going to take his spot at the barre, was making my whole day better.
I liked how he looked up at me and rolled his eyes and laughed, the weight and warmth of his body as he leaned against me, and the mischievous smile in his blue eyes once we reached the doorway to the large space filled with dancers.
“Hi, Eli,” lots of voices called out, and I waved to them all.
“No visitors during practice,” Senan Weaver said snottily, and I would have crossed the floor to ask what his problem was, but I wouldn’t dare mess up the Marley on the floor with my dress shoes. I was far more considerate than that.
Cel was about to retort, but since I still had his arm, I turned him away and walked him after me, down the hall a few feet.
“I can take him,” he apprised me, eyes narrowed, looking feral and angry.
If someone was mean to Cel, that was fine, he could take it, no problem. If someone was mean to me—messed up my food at a restaurant, didn’t listen to me, made me wait, was rude, loud, obnoxious, or in any way brusque with me—God help them. He was ferociously protective, and I could admit to loving that about him. No one else was possessive of me and my time, and it made my stomach do weird flippy things whenever that possessiveness made an appearance. At the moment, he was ready to take off Senan’s head for making me feel unwelcome.
“It’s fine,” I murmured, cupping his cheek for a moment before brushing his hair out of his face. “So I’ll pick you up at your place at seven fifteen for dinner.”
“It’s a date,” he said, his voice breathy for some reason as he stared into my eyes.
It was strange and had been happening a lot lately, but I had a hard time leaving him with just a word. I said “later” or “see you” to everyone else, but with him, I couldn’t go unless there was more.
When he lifted, I bent and wrapped him in my arms, tight, clutching him to my chest for a moment, needing the connection before I could walk away.
As predicted,Commander Gerald Stanhope, in charge of the First District over on South State Street, kept me waiting in his office for thirty minutes before he opened his door, leaned in, and told me it would be just another few minutes.
It was his prerogative to be an asshole, but I used the time well and got a lot of emails sent out, checked in with my mother, who was on her way to a Pilates class and really didn’t have time to talk, and finally called Jer.
“Where are you?” was the first thing out of his mouth. Not hello, not how are you, just where the hell was I?
“I’m at the First trying to talk to Stanhope.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m in charge of something stupid and I need him.”
“Start from the beginning.”
So I explained about a night of dance, added that Cel was certain it was going to be a horror show based on some behind-the-scenes shenanigans, and of course I got the response I was expecting.
“Who the fuck did you piss off?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, the mayor’s wife does love her causes, and you’re the public-affairs bitch now.”