Double Standards, page 22
The mood between us shifted as I leaned down to press my lips to his. He cupped my face in his hands before rising to his feet. I sighed against his lips—they tasted like cookies.
A sudden knock on our closed door caused us to abruptly pull away from each other.
“Come in!” I called over my shoulder.
Marcus sauntered in with Terry right behind him. I jumped to my feet, thankful we hadn’t gotten any further.
“I know you guys were busy with something else yesterday,” Marcus said, his face red, “so I was hoping we could discuss the break in the case now.”
“The case,” I murmured, trying to transition back into work mode.
Terry and Marcus sat across from Liam and I, and I filled them in on the details. Marcus took notes of items he needed to reference to pinpoint Vincent to the previous murders, and Terry nodded along silently as he agreed with our course of action.
“Marcus, please bring us everything you find,” Liam said when we were done.
Marcus ducked his head in a complacent nod before scurrying out of our office. Terry eyed us curiously, his gaze shifting between the two of us before he rose to his feet.
“Whatever’s going on between you two,” he said, “don’t let it affect your work.”
He left our office, leaving me at a loss of words.
Liam and I went straight to Progress Bar when we got off work. I texted Owen and let him know I would be home late.
Getting engaged hadn’t changed my routine with him at all. After we got home from dinner, he had given me a quick peck before heading off to bed. I had sighed, locked myself in my room, and got drunk. I kept staring at the engagement ring and sobbing. I prayed I could get out of the engagement before it was too late.
I spent hours crying. A little after midnight, I was able to doze off, but couldn’t sleep past six. I had forced myself out of bed and mindlessly whipped up a batch of cookies. Anything to distract myself.
I pulled myself back into the present just as Liam was about to order his drink. I placed my hand on his forearm and shook my head. “No scotch tonight,” I rasped before I looked up at the bartender. “We’ll take four shots of vodka with a Coke to chase.” The bartender got right to work.
“No scotch?” Liam asked incredulously, slapping a hand against his chest in faux offense.
I rolled my eyes. “You want to see me sing karaoke? I need cheaper liquor.”
He chuckled, his dimples deepening in the dim light. “When was the last time you did this?”
I shrugged. “Definitely within the last year. I’m telling you, I get sloppy drunk, so I hope you’re prepared to take care of me.”
Liam took my hand in his, and my stomach flitted with butterflies. “Does that mean you’re coming home with me tonight?” He challenged, cocking an eyebrow.
“Does that mean you want me to?” I retorted with a smirk.
He grinned wolfishly. “How could I not want my long lost lover to return home with me?”
I laughed, the faint memory of a teenage version of us flashing through my mind just as the bartender slid our shots toward us. “Don’t forget you asked for this.”
Liam held one of his shot glasses in the air. “To… distractions,” he murmured.
I simpered at his Christmas Gala reference. “To distractions.” I clinked my shot glass against his and tossed the liquor back, welcoming the burn from the cheap vodka as it slid down my throat. I refrained from gagging at the taste and immediately took my other one before I chased them with Coke.
“Fuck, I forgot how awful shots are,” he choked.
I took a moment to recover before I nodded. “It’ll do the trick though.” I waved at the bartender for another round.
A few more shots and several songs later, I was feeling drunk enough to get up onto the karaoke stage. Liam and I were just laughing, and I couldn’t even remember what it was about. All I knew was that I was having a fantastic time out with him, and for the first time in a long time I felt like I was out on a real date—but also like I was hanging out with an old friend, which I suppose I was.
“Okay, okay,” I breathed between laughs. “I need to go up there now.”
Liam turned his unfocused gaze on me, and something in that green gaze of his made me melt. “If your voice is half as beautiful as you are, then I’m in for a real treat.”
I pressed my vodka covered lips to his, appreciating his protective grip on my waist now that the booze had settled in. I pulled away and bounded up to the stage before he could stop me. I rifled through the songbook before pointing to one. My vision was a little blurry, but that was how I knew I was ready.
Liam
Callie swayed back and forth as the music started to her song. I was staring at her through a fuzzy fog now that the vodka shots were catching up to me, and fast. It had been years since I’d done anything like this, and my body was telling me I’d regret it later.
The catchy, upbeat violin of “Untouched” by The Veronicas rang through the speakers. I couldn’t help but laugh given how accurate this song was to her life. The irony made it all the more charming. She winked at me as she brought the microphone close to her lips, and I leaned in with anticipation.
I was not disappointed.
Her voice was throaty, fun, playful, and smooth. Each word fell from her perfectly pouty mouth with surprisingly good pitch given how intoxicated she was.
As the chorus approached, her hips moved in time with the beat. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. Her hair was swinging with her every movement, rare confidence radiating off her. Up there, she was this calm, confident, fun woman who only revealed herself in small bursts to me. This was not at all the by-the-books, overly cautious, serious Callie I was used to seeing in the office—no, this was the woman I met at last year’s Christmas Gala. This was Callie.
Everyone on the dance floor was jumping around and singing along, and my heart smiled.
Callie finished her song with as much energy as she had started it with. She put the microphone back and raced back over to me, jumping up and down with delight. “Oh my God, Liam! I haven’t done that in so long!”
I chuckled and stood up, taking her hand in mine. I wanted her, and I wanted her now. I leaned down to whisper in her ear, pinning her to the bar behind us. “You were incredible. Now come do incredible things with me.”
She pulled back enough to meet my gaze, her eyes gleaming. “Lead the way, Casanova.”
I smiled and kissed her. We paid our tab and stumbled back to my apartment, where we would spend half the weekend together.
Chapter 14

Liam
Watery rays of early winter sunshine pierced through my bedroom window, stirring me from my peaceful slumber. I rolled over, snuggling into Callie’s warmth as a hangover headache fogged my brain.
I cracked one eye open to look at her. She was sleeping soundly, facing me, with her hair a tangled mess. Her left hand rested on the pillow by her face, her new engagement ring glittering in the morning light and casting kaleidoscopic reflections on my ceiling. I reached out and carefully slid the ring off her finger, rolling over to set it on my nightstand. She didn’t rouse at all, and I wondered when she last slept like this.
I opened my other eye, ignoring the light sensitivity gifted by my hangover. I couldn’t help but take in her bare shoulders, her small frame tucked under the blankets.
My heart throbbed.
I liked her. I liked her a lot, more than I cared to admit aloud.
Sure, we had our differences and we rarely agreed at work, but that didn’t change how I felt about her. A few minutes later, she spoke, her morning voice soft and raspy. It caused my cock to waken.
“If you keep staring at me, I’m going to file a restraining order against you.”
I barked out a laugh and snaked my arm around her waist. “How did you know?”
She smiled but still didn’t open her eyes. “I could sense it.”
I nuzzled my face under her chin, in the crook of her neck, and breathed in her scent. As badly as I wanted to bury myself inside her, I knew I needed to nurse my hangover first.
“I haven’t been hungover in a long time,” I groaned.
She giggled. “At your age, it could take days to recover,” she teased and moved her fingers into my hair. She liked doing that, I realized.
I scoffed. “You’re a bad influence on me. Drinking that much at my age could be detrimental.”
Callie squeezed me closer. I didn’t fight it. “No worse than you coercing me into an affair while I’m investigating my fake fiancé under the table.”
I snorted. “I guess we’re bad for each other,” I stated sarcastically.
“Or are we just bringing out the best in each other in the worst of ways?” She paused. “Did you take off my ring?” She seemed undeterred that it was missing.
I tilted my head back to look at her, relieved to finally see her baby blues looking down at me. The light caught them just right, highlighting their depth. I was about to kiss her when she sat up, the sheet falling down to reveal her bare breasts.
I grinned and reached up to touch them, but she pulled out of my reach. I pouted and gave her a questioning look.
“I’m just as hungover as you. Let’s go get breakfast.” She rose to her feet and started to get dressed, then spotted her ring on the nightstand.
I lay on my back for a few moments, willing my erection to go away. When she put the ring back on her finger, it took mere seconds for the blood to leave my dick. Fucking Owen.
Callie
I was dreading entering my apartment. It was the weekend before Thanksgiving, and I was just getting back from sleeping at Liam’s for the night. My—sort of—fake fiancé would likely have questions, so I had made sure to tell Sophie that our cover story was in place: I had gone out for karaoke and drinks, crashed at her place, and then went to brunch.
I felt like I was dancing around the devil when it came to lying about my whereabouts, but what was the alternative? Tell him I was sleeping with the very person that sparked his jealousy? Risk that deep-seated, well-concealed anger rising to the surface before I was prepared?
That sounded worse than lying.
I tried to push down the guilt I felt, attempted to justify it, as I pushed open the front door. I didn’t hear a single noise in the apartment. I called out his name, but he didn’t respond. I poked my head into every room, but he was nowhere to be found.
I heaved a heavy sigh, kicked off my heels, and went to my bedroom, seeking the comfort I knew it would provide.
I put my gun in my bedside safe and flicked on the TV, putting on Brooklyn Nine-Nine. I’d never seen it before, but it seemed like a light take on my everyday job, and I was all for it.
Owen didn’t come home until later that evening, and the first thing he asked was where I had been—not kindly. I copped an attitude with him and gave him my cover story. He’d huffed across the apartment to his bedroom and left me alone.
For getting recently engaged, he was certainly being temperamental, dismissive, and mercurial. It raised numerous red flags, so I texted in the group chat about it and returned to my show.
Thanksgiving Day
“Callie, dear, have you two set a date yet?” Owen’s mother, Regina, wondered, smiling sweetly at me. The look in her eyes didn’t match her tone. She could cut glass with her intensity.
I pushed the food on my plate around with my fork, focusing my gaze downward. It had just been sprung on me yesterday that Owen’s parents would be joining us for the holiday, ruining my chance to do anything but spend time with anyone but him. I had planned to just work through the holiday—like I normally did—but apparently that wasn’t in the cards for me. Instead, I had to put on yet another fake smile for this ridiculous family.
“Um, no,” I responded quietly.
“What was that?” She probed.
I cleared my throat and met her eyes coolly, gritting out through clenched teeth, “No, we have not yet set a date. We’ve been engaged for a week, Regina. I’m not interested in planning a wedding right now.”
Owen patted my arm and I fought the urge to recoil. I didn’t want him touching me, and I certainly didn’t want to be at a dinner table with him and his family.
Regina frowned, her features colored with confusion. “What does that mean?”
“Mother, don’t,” Owen chimed in. I looked at him in surprise. This was the closest he’d ever come to defending me, and the nicest he’d been in weeks. “She’s going through a lot right now.”
Since when did he care enough to stick up for me?
He was never not passive, especially when it came to his mother—probably because he knew I could hold my own.
Regina scoffed and refilled her glass of pinot. “Well, God forbid I ask when my own son is getting married.” She jutted out her lower lip in an attempt to guilt trip us. I so badly wanted to roll my eyes at her. Raging bitch.
I might have felt bad that I was leading her son on if I liked her in the slightest, but she had never respected me. She didn’t like my job, didn’t like that I brought a gun home, and certainly didn’t like that it potentially put Owen’s life in danger.
Owen sighed and looked to his father as a cry for help. His dad, Leroy, picked up on it.
“Regina, sweetie, let the kids do this on their own time.” He gave his wife a tight smile.
Yes, please get her to stop.
She shot him a dirty look with her muddy brown eyes, identical to Owen’s. “Don’t condone this behavior, Leroy. They’re living together, isn’t that sin enough?”
My fists tightened on the linen napkin in my lap. Sin. I understood where she came from, but this was a topic that set me off. Owen and I had gotten in many heated debates over this—he didn’t like that I had been sexually active in the past and didn’t like when I touched myself. I would respond and explain that I respected his religious values, coming from a Christian household myself, and would ask him to meet me in the middle.
It never went anywhere.
And as I was beginning to realize, physical touch was very likely a love language of mine.
I flushed, frustration beginning to fill me. Who did she think she was? Condoning this ‘behavior?’ What behavior? Owen and I weren’t even close to intimate.
Owen choked on his food. “Mom, we aren’t doing that.”
Regina rolled her eyes. “Right, like you expect me to believe that.”
“It’s true,” I interjected.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t you think it’s time you just tie the knot, Callie? Your eggs won’t be good forever,” she jabbed.
Alright, what the fuck?
My blood was boiling, and if she didn’t stop soon, I was going to burst.
“Can we not talk about her eggs while we’re eating dinner?” Owen pleaded.
“Yeah, it’s gross,” Owen’s younger brother, Simon, agreed. Simon was almost the spitting image of Owen, with a curly mop, brown eyes, and similar build.
“I’m just saying,” Regina snapped, sliding her gaze back to me, “that she’s getting a little old to start having children, so they should hurry up with the wedding.”
“Oh my God, would you stop already?” I demanded, my fists coming down on the table much harder than I was expecting. The plates and glasses trembled slightly. Everyone jumped in surprise, but I didn’t bother apologizing. “Owen and I are far from intimate. The last thing we talk about is children, since your son insists on sleeping in different bedrooms. My work is exhausting and demanding, so by the time I get home and eat dinner, I’m ready for bed. We hardly speak. And before you make another snarky remark, get your head out of your ass and keep your nose out of our business. This is as much Owen’s fault as it is mine.”
Silence followed my words as awkwardness and a thick blanket of tension settled over the table. I glanced around the table to see if anyone was going to challenge me. When no one did, I stood up abruptly.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need some air,” I announced before turning and leaving the worst Thanksgiving dinner I’d ever had.
I tossed my jacket on the christened couch in my office, pacing back and forth as I gripped handfuls of my hair. I was going crazy. How much longer was I expected to keep this up? Weeks? Months? I wasn’t sure I could.
My flats slapped the laminate flooring underneath me, and the sound irritated me further. I came to a standstill and took a deep breath. I yearned for Liam’s presence right now, but he was in Upstate New York with his family for the holiday. I bit my lip and decided it was better than being alone and getting drunk, so I FaceTimed him.
The screen said connecting… almost immediately, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw his face. I smiled at him, grateful that we were on better terms and I could at least see him this way. “Cal? What’s going on?” He asked, then squinted his eyes. He was outside, and his hair was stylishly pushed back. The sun was setting, giving him a beautiful golden glow. “Are you in the office?”
I plopped onto the couch and grunted. “I left in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner. His mother was being outrageous, so I put her in her place.”
He laughed, and I had never missed him more. “I wish I could have seen that.” There was a brief silence that followed. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know anymore. I just hate him and his family.”
Whoa. That was the first time I’d said those words out loud, and I didn’t realize I’d felt that way until that moment. When did it happen? Not long ago I had been trying to reconnect with him.
“You’re doing the best you can. It’s okay to be frustrated. This isn’t a normal undercover job.”
I rested my chin on my fist. “I know you’re right. I just wish you were here.”
Liam smiled at me. “Do you want me to come back? My family will understand.”
“Don’t you dare. I’d never ask you to do that.”
