took you for a Big Bang fan.”
“I have a girl crush on Kaley Cuoco.”
He leans forward with his hand up, palm to me, for a high five. I slap his hand with mine and sit down in my office chair. Everyone has time for a high five for crushing on Kaley Cuoco—let’s be real.
When Carlton’s gone, I read through Wally’s policy. That’s a large amount of money, even for a guy who was once a business owner. Three-quarters of a million dollars seems like overkill. I doubt Colton’s Classic Cars was making a shit-ton of money when it was selling cars the way a whore sells... Well.
That’s enough of that thought path.
I sigh heavily. This only reinforces my theory that money was the reason he was killed. The only person who would know about this policy is the beneficiary, which is, indeed, Kat. It doesn’t bode well, but it doesn’t bode badly, either.
This is circumstantial... And a hell of a lot less circumstantial than what has Gianna in the spotlight.
Once again, I sigh, this time running my fingers through my hair. For the first time in my life, I’m thankful it’s Friday night and I get to spend the night with my family and fall into the insanity that is Bond Family Dinner.
Only nine hours until six o’clock.
It’s only just occurred to me how fucking awkward this is going to be. Drake and I have barely talked since I went to work this morning, and there’s one hell of an elephant in the room—er, truck—right now as we drive to my parents’ place. Neither of us has spoken about the words I’m hoping he wasn’t thinking and the ones he was. They’re probably one and the same, but really, in the bigger picture, this is such a mild issue.
The problem is Trent.
He and I haven’t spoken unless we’ve been throwing shade at each other. Our relationship is practically eternal freaking night right now. He’s just a goddamn black hole, and I’m a pretty star. That’s how it works, because he’s wrong and I’m right.
I don’t care what anyone says. I’ll fight that belief until I no longer can. He should not be working this case. But that is the problem with small towns—everyone has a conflict of interest no matter the case.
Drake pulls into my parents’ driveway, and I note with both happiness and apprehension that we’re the first people here. Excellent. More time for awkwardness between me and him and less between me and Trent.
Karma, why do you hate me so? Bitch.
I step down from the truck. One of my heels catches on a stone from the gravel, and I just about stop myself falling by holding on to the truck door. Drake obviously notices if the shake of his head is anything to go by. Probably thinking it’s my own fault for not waiting. I blame the stone for being in the way. It should have known my heel would be there.
I slam the door shut and go to the house. I can’t hear the echo of any fighting or Gio squawking, so I push the front door open and pause. Still noth—wait. Laughing.
Laughing? In my parents’ house?
This is scary.
“Hello?” I call out.
“In the kitchen, Noelle!” Mom’s voice rings out.
Okay, this just got scarier.
“Um, okay...”
Either Nonna is dead or they’re getting along. It’s a sad state of affairs when I think it’s the former, isn’t it?
“Hot wench!” Gio bellows from the front room, having become accustomed to my voice. He follows it up with a catcall.
“Shut up, you damn bird!”
“Hot bloody wench! Whit whoo!”
I ignore it and walk to the kitchen. I stop before my feet have moved from carpet to tiles. Nonna is standing over the stove, and Mom is chopping something on the board, and they’re both laughing quietly. I look at them both, then the clock, then back at them.
Then I pinch myself.
Ouch.
Yep.
This is real.
“Is this an alternate universe, or...did you get drugged?” I question tentatively, looking at them.
“No, no,” Nonna says, winking at me.
Nonna winked.
Sweet fucking Jesus.
“We decided fightin’ wasn’t getting us anywhere, so we’re tryin’ to be friends,” Mom explains.
I needed the explanation, not gonna lie. “But you’re cooking together. I’ve never seen you cook together in almost twenty-nine years.”
“Si! Isn’t it-a fantastico?” Nonna beams at me. “We cook-a to-a-gether!”
“Yeah, fantastic...” I trail off. “Where’s Dad?”
“The shed,” Mom answers. “Drake here?”
“Yeah. I’m goin’ to see Dad.” I scurry out of the kitchen and into the backyard before she can say anything else.
Dad’s shed