Fast-paced was how I lived my life, and this relationship was no exception.
“What are you making?” I asked, not because I cared about the food—fuck, I couldn’t even think about eating after she made my whole world tilt—but because I needed to hear her voice. Needed to bottle it up in my head, hold onto it like a lifeline before I went the next week without her.
“Arepas.It’s my grandmother’s recipe.” She pressed the dough between her fingers, rolling it methodically, like muscle memory. Her movements slowed for a beat—just enough to tell me she was remembering, too. The way I’d stood in this same kitchen, making my own grandmother’s recipe for her, letting her in.
“What is it?”
“Basically a dough stuffed with a filling. It’s actually a traditional dish from my grandfather’s side of the family that my grandmother learned how to make in order to impress his parents. He was Colombian, but my grandmother immigrated here from Spain. Spanish through and through. So, she taught my mother, and I grew up making this with the both of them,” she told me.
Leaning forward on my elbows, the marble cool against my skin. I listened intently to every word. “You’re Colombian?”
She nodded. “Only about an eighth. I did one of those DNA tests a few years ago. I’m mostly Spanish, though.” I watched as she expertly filled the dough and pressed it together to seal in the filling then checked the temperature of the cast iron skillet on the stove.
Sophie continued, setting thearepasaside as she finished each one. Heat still licked through my veins from the way she’d said it, the way I’d said it back. My fingers traced the marbling in the counter, restless, my thoughts already turning over solutions—excuses—to keep her here, to make sure a fucking state line never came between us again.
“Honest question?” I said.
“Sure.”
“What are you going to do once Chavez has been taken care of?”
Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Well, do you plan to stay at your job? Or even in Newark?”
She sighed. “That’s a million-dollar question, darling. Short answer is that I don’t know. After Callie and Liam moved here, I’ve been wondering what my next move would be. My previous captain really fucked things up and my whole work dynamic changed after he left. I don’t really love it there anymore, but I don’t know how I could afford moving back here, nor am I certain that I’d transfer to NYPD.”
She carried the platter ofarepasto the table then grabbed a bottle of wine from the wine cooler. Seeing her so at home here in my penthouse made me feel warm inside.
“What happened with your previous captain?” Curiosity weighed on me, these parts of her life that I was suddenly craving to know.
A humorless laugh escaped her. “Did you happen to see what transpired with Callie and Liam?”
I recalled Paulie’s brief explanation of her friends. “Not really.”
She hummed. “Let me set the scene for you. Callie dated a man named Owen Fisher. Shortly after they got together, she and I went to an annual Christmas gala where NPD and NYPD basically throw an extravagant event and invite the elite to raise money for law enforcement.” She opened the bottle of wine, poured two glasses, and handed me one. I took a grateful sip as she continued, leading me over to the table. “Well, at the galathat year, Callie and Liam hooked up.” Sophie paused to take a large drink of wine.
“Fast forward to the next fall. Owen and Callie were still dating, she was miserable, but she was hyper-focused on this one serial killer case—her first case, actually. You see, Callie’s a perfectionist, and the fact that it was her only cold case drove her crazy. It was really fucking sad watching my best friend fall into depression and alcoholism because it haunted her.” Sophie turned her attention to dishing thearepas, but I didn’t miss the sadness in her eyes. “I swear this is all relevant to the story, Mav.”
I snorted. “Don’t worry about me. I could listen to you talk all day.”
She threw me a grateful smile before taking a seat. “Anyway, there was this detective from NYPD that was requesting those case documents from her, and they got into a bit of a tiff over it. Come to find out, that detective was transferring to our precinct, and wound up being Callie’s partner. Care to guess who it was?”
Grinning, I said, “Liam.”
She snapped her fingers. “Bingo. Callie and Liam, in real life and outside of a fancy event with free-flowing booze, did not get along so well. They butted heads a lot, but there was also a lot of sexual tension between them. I think they both knew it, but neither of them would fucking admit it, andugh, it was so frustrating watching those two pine after each other.” She sighed, then instructed, “Eat.”
I cut into thearepa, popping a bite into my mouth. I closed my eyes as the flavors burst on my tongue. It was quite possibly the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. “Oh my fucking God, Sophie.” I half shoveled it into my mouth, relishing in her girlish giggles.
“Okay, you don’t need to exaggerate.”
“Hate to break it to you, babe, but I’m dead serious when I say I’d eat this every night for the rest of my life.”
She rolled her eyes, but I could tell by the flush in her cheeks she was pleased. I kept eating, prompting her to continue. “At the same time, our captain encouraged them to reopen that case, which they did. The killings started up again, and then they were both hunting the killer.”
“What about Callie’s boyfriend?”
Sophie smiled bitterly, her finger tracing the top of her wine glass. “Right. Herboyfriend.He was insanely jealous of Liam, even before anything happened between them. Put his hands on her a few times, but was also cheating on her.”
