Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 117408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
I spotted Jonah and Andrew walking into the courtyard, Andrew’s husband, Declan, at Andrew’s side, his arm around his husband, the three of them cracking up at some joke one of them shared.
I walked over to them, feeling an ember of envy at how affectionate Andrew and Declan were.
I stomped that ember right the fuck out. Now wasn’t the time to think about how badly I wanted to hold Jonah’s hand.
“Hey there,” Declan said, extending a hand. I shook, matching the smiles on all their faces.
Declan was a good match for Andrew, I could tell that right off the bat. He looked a little older, stood a little taller, but his personality felt much more reserved compared to Andrew’s, who was a ball of light as bright as the sun. I could see how Declan complemented Andrew and vice versa.
Plus, they were such a good-looking couple, you just couldn’t miss it. Declan with his buzzed head and boss-man demeanor and Andrew with his expertly styled hair and his I’m-here attitude. They were looking sharp, Declan in an expensive-looking navy button-up and Andrew in a simple white button-up covered with an eye-catching black-and-white silk kimono, a blossoming cherry blossom sewn into the back.
We fell into a conversation about how great of a job Andrew did with getting the place ready, Jonah ending up right by my side as the conversation went on. We gravitated toward each other in any room we were in, I had noticed that. It felt like a subconscious tug that was constantly at work.
“Well, well, well, look who it is.” Andrew spotted him first, crossing his arms and pursing his lips. “Maleek Murphy, the man who still owes me a slice of his famous pecan pie!”
Maleek walked into the party, looking good in a casual navy suit jacket and a fitted pair of black pants. He may have looked good, but his wife was the one who stole the show.
“I told him to bring some,” Danica said, walking over in a yellow satin dress that looked like pure sunshine dripping off her skin.
“Wow,” Andrew said, crossing his arms. “Well, Danica, are you looking for a job as a private detective? Because we’ll be having an opening verrrry soon.”
That had the group laughing, although Maleek was looking around like “it’s a joke, right?”
He was an excellent detective and a great friend. I had spent a lot of lunches with him before Jonah came into the picture and consumed most of my time. We bonded over our time in the military, and we talked a lot about some random, crazy shit. Lunches would get deep and philosophical out of nowhere, and I loved that about Maleek.
He was a great guy, and his background made him even more inspiring. Losing his little brother to a hate crime had changed his life and led him on a path of activism, ultimately leading him to Stonewall.
I was so glad to have him with us.
More people started showing up. Shiro Villanueva walked in with his stuck-up boyfriend. None of us at Stonewall liked the guy, who enjoyed flashing his keys to the Ferrari parked outside more than he liked flashing a smile, but none of us were going to get involved either. Shiro’s life was Shiro’s life, and his cases were constantly getting solved and shut, so the bedazzled douche he had hanging with him wasn’t affecting his job. No intervention was needed; Shiro would come to realize there were better guys out there.
Holly arrived slightly late, as we were all on our second round of drinks, some of us even shaking our hips to the music. She looked totally different with a face full of makeup and a beautiful black dress replacing her usual shirt and jeans. Her boyfriend looked as good as she did, a man who was twice her height but equal in her smile-to-face ratio, their faces beaming as they said hi to everyone.
“Want another drink?” Jonah asked, pointing his chin toward my empty cup.
“Yeah, actually.”
“What do you want?” He stood up, reaching for my cup. We were sitting at a picnic table near a fountain that had turned into a spectacular multicolor light show. With us were Declan and Penny, who were excitedly talking about the horses at Declan’s equine therapy center.
“I’ll go with you,” I said, standing.
“This is really nice, isn’t it?” Jonah looked around, admiring the scene.
“It is. Kind of feels like a fun family party.”
“Exactly. Not the family parties that you dread. You know the ones I’m talking about. The ones where aunt Titi comes over only to sneakily diss your mom’s plates and choice of tablecloth and the way your mom cooks the steak while she only brings a prebaked cornbread big enough to feed Ratatouille and only Ratatouille, and then she asks why you aren’t married yet or have ten children yet or why you don’t contribute to your Roth IRA yet.”