“Chad said if things go badly, they’ll blame Finnegan since he’s the one who approved your plan. Is he the U.S. attorney who signed the letters you showed us?”
“Yes. Assistant U.S. Attorney James Finnegan, but they’re wrong. Blame almost always filters down. Rarely does it go upward. Doesn’t matter, though.” I turned to look at her, making sure my eyes were locked on her eyes and not looking somewhere else. “Everything will be fine,” I said.
“Famous last words.”
We sat like that for a few more beats, staring into each other’s eyes. Shelby smiled brightly. I found myself smiling back.
“You want to look at the dress again, don’t you?” she said. “Go ’head. Do I look as good in it as Nina?”
“Stop it, now.”
“What are you going to do about her?”
“Apologize profusely, beg forgiveness, and buy her something both tasteful and expensive.”
“Then what?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean—how long have you two been dating?”
“I don’t know. I’ve known her for nearly five years, but we’ve been monogamous for only what, three and a half years? Four?”
Shelby continued to stare.
“What?” I said.
“Don’t you think it’s time to take the next step?”
“I’ve proposed to Nina three times. Each time she changed the subject, blew me off. The lady doesn’t want to get married again. I met her ex-husband. I don’t blame her.”
“She doesn’t want to get married because you don’t want to get married. You have commitment issues, McKenzie, you know you do.”
“How can you say that? I proposed. Actually got down on one knee.”
“What would you have done if she said yes?”
“I would have…”
“You would have run for the hills. Nina knows it, too.”
“I haven’t got time for this, Shel. In case you haven’t heard, I’m working undercover as a dangerous and unpredictable armed felon.”
“A lot of our friends, and I’m including Nina, they all think that you want to marry me—and because you can’t you’re not going to marry anyone. Only two people know that’s nonsense—me and Bobby, probably because we’ve known you the longest. If I suddenly became free you’d find a way to sabotage the relationship just like you did with Kirsten, just like you did with Jillian DeMarais.”
“You didn’t like either of them.”
“You did—for a while.”
“I don’t understand women.” I took Shelby’s chin in my hand and kissed her lips. It was a short kiss. I knew my boundaries. I stood up and started moving away from the fountain. “My best to the family,” I said.
When she saw me coming, Josie scooted behind the steering wheel of the Ford Taurus, which was fine with me. I opened the passenger door and settled into the seat.
“Home, JoEllen,” I said.
“The woman, she was your contact?”
“Yes.”
“She’s lovely.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Kinda slutty looking, though, in that black dress.”
Before she could say more, I directed her to I-94, through Spaghetti Junction, and north onto I-35E. It wasn’t difficult. The roads were still congested, and the slow-moving rush-hour traffic gave us plenty of time to switch lanes safely.
“This is awful,” Josie said. She said it more than once. “I can’t imagine having to deal with traffic like this every single day.”
“Me, neither,” I said. “That’s one reason why I don’t work nine-to-five.”