Page 24 of Love Expert

ROUND ELEVEN

BILLY

Tania:

Everything’s fine back here. Jeremy’s being a little fussy. Doesn’t want to go to sleep till you get home. But we’re watching a movie and eating our weight in popcorn.

I hope you’re having a blast! Ramone texted and said you’ve developed some new love connections! I’ll be honest; I thought you were going out of obligation and would’ve been the token grumpy jerk brooding in the corner. I’m thrilled for you. It’s time you jumped back into the dating world.

I lock my phone without responding and grit my teeth as people flirt and giggle and chatter around me. The nervous energy from earlier wears away, which means conversations flow a little more freely, and the no-touching rule is disrespected time and time again.

Especially by the crying women who regale me with stories of Aria and try so hard to grab my hand.

Cool!

Some ask about my custody schedule with my son—like, where the fuck else do I send him when I want time off? The cemetery!?—and then there are others… like Fox Tatum, who smirks like she’s having the time of her life.

“It’s rude to text someone else while we’re on a date,Detective.” She rubs a gentle circle against the side of her belly. “Are you speaking to other women?” And then she gasps, loud enough to draw eyes.Too many eyes. “Are you cheating on me, Billy Caster? Because I thought we had something special!”

“I’ll drop your Academy Award in the mail when this shitshow is all done.” I slip my phone into my pocket anddon’tlook along the line. I fuckin’ refuse, because if I did, I’d be forced to watch Ramone shamelessly flirt with Maggie. “Why’s everyone got such a hard-on for pissing me off this week, huh? Was there a town meeting where everyone voted to harass me?”

“There was actually.” She bounces her foot, swinging perfectly pedicured nails up so they flash in my peripherals. “We thoughthey, that poor Detective Caster hasn’t gotten laid in a while, which is probably why he’s so cranky all the time. Figured our rap sheets would benefit from showing you a good time.”

“You failed. This shit ain’t fun at all.”

“No?” She angles forward and scans the rows of tables on her left. Then on her right. “I’m having a blast, and my poor man…” She spots Chris several tables away. Bringing a hand up, she finger waves and blows an air kiss. “He’s not having a good time either, but I’ll take him home shortly and fix that right up.” Finally, she brings dark brown eyes back to mine. “You could consider actuallytrying, Detective. Pick someone who isn’t married, isn’t related to you, and hasn’t spent time in your cages in the last six months. Ask her out. See what happens.You may be pleasantly surprised.”

“It’s not like Ineverdate.” Scowling, I pick up my beer, the same one from hours ago, and take a small sip purely for the sake of having something to do with my hands. “I spent time with a woman last month, actually.”

“Did you fall in love?”

“No.”

“Did you get laid?”

A low, warning growl rolls through my chest. “No.”

“Did you smile at any point during the evening?” She snickers. “Smiles are important.”

“But I thought I had to present my most authentic self? If I strut around on a Friday night, all grins and good moods, a woman might feel a little put out on Monday when she finds out I’m actually a complete prick.”

“This is true.” She swings that foot. Up. Down. Up. Down. “I suppose we should limit your options to women who already know you’re a prickthen.” She flashes a wicked grin and, as though she’d been counting, she waves me to her left in the same instant the buzzer sounds. “It was lovely, Detective. I’ll be sure your report card reflects your efforts accordingly.”

Four hours have never gone so fucking slowly in my life, and the further I move away from Maggie’s table, the slower… time… goes.

Why?

I should want to be away from her! I should cheer for every table that separates us.

“I bet it’s annoying when dates insist on asking about Aria, right?”

I’ve moved beyond my circle of friends, past my buddies’ wives, even past Ramone’s sister. At least they were fun. Now, I’m forced to spend my final five minutes with Bitchy Barbara’s paramedic granddaughter while she spins her tongue around the straw in her drink and pretendsnot to be like other girls. “It must be exhausting.”

“Mmhm. It sure is.” I bide my time and focus on the scribbles in her notebook, then I glance to my left and check that chick’s notebook, too. I’ve spent the last two hours sneaking peeks at everyone’s pads of paper, because it bothers me more than it should to know that I’m being graded.

Who fucking cares if someone writes shit about me, all for Magnolia Sava’s wine-fueled amusement?

I definitely shouldn’t care.