Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Connelly smiled. “I won’t say a word, but when I show up at the baby shower with a pink tutu and a princess onesie I think she’ll figure it out.”
“Harsh, man. Harsh.”
“Why is it a secret anyway?”
“Marie wants to do a big reveal, you know? She’s got it all planned out. Only a couple of her girlfriends are in the loop because they’re helping. It’s silly, really.”
“It’s cute.”
Raoul’s face softened. “I guess. Makes her happy so, what am I gonna do, right?”
“I feel you.”
“I’m talking about making someone smile, not fixing all their problems.”
“I don’t do that.”
“When you met Jason he was an unemployed actor auditioning for yogurt commercials. By the end of your six-month relationship he was starring on Broadway.”
“He was talented. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Roger was a failed baseball player who never made it pro. You dated for four months until he got a job coaching down in Atlanta.”
“Again, nothing to do with me.”
“Right. And what about Mac? I seem to remember you putting him through nursing school for two years. Then he left you to take a job in Colorado without so much as a thank-you card.”
“Do you have a fucking point?” He slammed on the brakes for a red light. Raoul’s hand smacked into the dashboard and he cursed.
Once they were moving again, Raoul said, “You have a tendency to pick the needy ones. It’s like you’re addicted to helping people. The problem is, most of them don’t appreciate it and you end up alone after wasting your time patching all the holes in their life. You forget to take care of the ones in your own.”
“I think you’ve been watching too much Dr. Phil.”
“I just call it like I see it. Maybe it’s best you let this obsession die.”
“It’s not an obsession.”
“So you didn’t end up fucking him on your birthday?”
“One more word, Raoul, and I swear I’ll shoot you in the foot.”
His partner gave him a knowing look but, thankfully, kept his mouth shut. For the rest of the drive to West Village, neither of them spoke. But Connelly couldn’t stop wondering if his partner was right. Did he go after the broken ones because he enjoyed fixing them? That was kind of sick, wasn’t it? What made him so perfect that he thought he could fix people?
His life wasn’t all that great. He had no right to judge anyone.
Is that why he was attracted to Azariah? That caught him up short because the last thing he thought of when he pictured those dark onyx eyes was someone who needed fixing. The guy exuded confidence and strength. Even without knowing much about him, Connelly could imagine the snark that would spill out of his mouth at the idea he was incapable of taking care of himself.
No, Raoul was wrong. He had to be.
Chapter Eighteen
Tuesday afternoon Connelly sat through another lecture from his partner, deflecting the impromptu therapy session with questions about the active cases they were working on and mulling over notes for court the next morning.
They’d finally gotten the results of the fingerprint and DNA tests back from CSU for the playground shooting and had begun running them through the police database. Connelly had his fingers crossed for a match. If they could solve it quick, maybe Captain Bell wouldn’t kill him for not following procedure with the narcotics case. Last night Raoul had gone back to the club right before opening to sniff around. He’d spotted Keller but one look at the badge on his hip and the waiter had taken off. The crowd outside had swallowed him up so successfully Raoul had lost any trace. He’d questioned the bartender. Had even tried to get the club owner, Castor Stavros, to hand over Keller’s employment file, but he wasn’t cooperating without his attorney and a warrant. Which they couldn’t get because they had no fucking proof. Connelly felt like he was drilling through concrete with this case. If he wasn’t so stubborn, he would have given up on it days ago.
He got a call from Janie before lunch and made an excuse to leave work early, avoiding Raoul’s side-eye. This time her car wouldn’t start and she needed to pick up the boys after school and drop them off at the sitter’s before work. Sometimes he thought it might be easier if he transferred to the 120 on Staten Island to work closer to his family. He could even move into her guest bedroom, but fuck if he wanted to do that. He’d never have a life then.
As it was, he barely had energy for the things he enjoyed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d caught a pick-up game in the park or spent the day vegging out watching television. But what could he do? His mom refused to lift a finger while Janie insisted on the divorce, and Matthew was in a desert in the Middle East trying not to get shot.