“Garroted,” I correct him.
“That too. I’m not interrogating you, Tyson.”
Oh shit. I should have remembered he was one of the only people who could reverse-follow my line of thinking. Of course he knew exactly what I was talking about without having to have an explanation. No wonder he’s a cop. He’s, like, psychic or something.
“I didn’t think you were,” I say. I am a big fat liar.
He knows this, but he lets it go. Okay, we’re back to Good Cop. Fun. “Good to know.”
“Uh. Sure.”
And he immediately switches into Bad Cop. “So, how have the past four years of your life been?” Or maybe it’s Make You Feel Guilty Cop. It’s said with such an affable tone that I almost miss the words. “Seems I haven’t heard from you in so
me time.”
Asshole. “Oh, just fine,” I say. Two can play Bad Cop. “Thanks for the invite to your wedding. Sorry I couldn’t attend. It seemed rather sudden, and I already had plans.” Okay, maybe I’m Jerk Cop.
He grins, and it’s a feral thing. “That’s okay. You probably wouldn’t have had much fun. Lots of grownup stuff happening.”
“Sounds boring, though I heard the service itself was quite lovely. You know, for a wedding that came on such short notice.”
“It was nice,” he says. “Lots of flowers. You would have liked them.”
“I’m allergic,” I say sweetly, stepping onto thin ice as if it’s solid ground. “Probably good I didn’t make it. I would have sneezed through the whole thing.”
“Probably good,” he echoes. “Wouldn’t have done to have distractions. Vows and all that. You know about vows, Tyson? They’re usually inevitable, after all. Still, it was a lovely day, even in your absence.”
The ice doesn’t break, so I decide to take a jackhammer to it. I figure, why not? You only live once. “Shotgun weddings usually are. Hopefully Stacey found a suitable dress. I assume she was what… three, four months along at the time?” I smile at him. It’s a nasty thing.
His eyes flicker dangerously. Bad Cop is Pissed Cop. “Something like that.”
“And you, the sanctimonious man that you are, decided to do the right thing.” Of course he did. He’s Dominic, after all.
“Careful, Tyson,” he warns. “You’re speaking about my son.”
Ben pays little interest to the goings-on around him. “You’re right,” I say softly. “I am speaking about your son. Who you had with Stacey. It was, after all, inevitable.”
“Kind of like your leaving,” he says. “Who knew you’d end up being a runner? Not after what happened with Bear and Otter.”
“We’re not Bear and Otter.”
“Clearly.”
“You’re not even….”
He watched you like you were the only thing that existed in the world. For him, I’m pretty sure you were. For at least those moments.
“What?”
“Never mind,” I say instead. The coward’s way out.
The doorbell rings. “Shit,” he says, glancing down at his watch. “She’s early.”
“Who?” I ask, like it’s my business to know.
“Stay here with Ben,” he says without looking at me. He stands and disappears toward the front door. I hear it open, followed by low voices. Eavesdropping is bad, I decide, but only after I realize I can’t hear anything.
“This has been a weird day,” I mutter.