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“With all due respect, Wilds,” Kevin said, “I’m going to say: no. Absolutely not.”
The sargeant cocked her head, spinning the whisky around her shallow glass. “Because your opinion matters so greatly to me, Kevin.”
Andrew blocked out whatever response Kevin managed and the resulting argument between him, Sergeant Danielle Wilds and her husband Matthew Boyd: Renee looked on serenely, with a slightly amused curl to her lips, whilst Wymack ordered another gin and tonic.
Andrew’s foot bounced. He was not anxious. He was never anxious. He was simply introducing his husband to his colleagues. It’d been years since they’d come together as a team. It was about time they’d met the mysterious Neil.
It’s not like his face was recognisable or anything. It’s not like he’d been running the largest crime syndicate in Baltimore after his father’s death. Neil had inherited it after they’d gotten together, anyway.
“Is Allison coming along?” Renee inquired, lightly, still ever-so-serene. His partner was a jumble of nonsensical loose ends, with a large scar on her jaw contradicting the collar done up to her throat and the silver cross hanging around her neck. It was why they’d gotten along so well in the first place, and why he’d invited her to witness his wedding.
Which was where, consequently, she had met Allison Reynolds, Neil’s right-hand woman.
Andrew shot her a glare before looking back to the doorway. Where was he? Punctuality wasn’t his forte, but fifteen minutes late to something Andrew had insisted he shouldn’t be late to was stretching it. Had something happened? Had the Bearcats finally grown their little claws and lashed out at Neil? Was he dead in a ditch somewhere?
“Hi,” came a familiar voice, breathless. Andrew glanced over his other shoulder to see Neil, grinning and red-cheeked. He must have run. Understanding Andrew’s apprehension, he chanced a kiss on Andrew’s cheek. “Came in through the back.”
Of course he had this particular dive bar in his pocket. It was one of Andrew’s regular hangouts: he would have this place fortified to the very last screw.
Allison gave Renee a little wink, waving her manicured nails like a manic pixie. Andrew took Neil’s wrist under the table and gave it a light squeeze before turning back to his colleagues.
Kevin was going purple, mouth hanging open like a gaping fish.
“So,” Dan said, voice strained slightly. “This is Neil.”
“My husband,” Andrew confirmed. “Yes.”
“Did you know about this?” Matt hissed into Renee’s ear, not at all subtle. She simply smiled her glittering smile in response.
“Jesus Christ,” Wymack mumbled into his glass, downing the whole thing.
“Nice to finally meet you all,” Neil said, placidly. “This is my friend, Allison. I hope it was alright to bring her along.” Allison’s grin was mischievous.
Kevin allowed a strangled noise to escape his mouth.
“We’ve only got one seat,” Matt said, bewildered.
“That’s alright,” Neil shrugged, offering it to Allison and leaning against Andrew’s thigh instead. Andrew let his arm loop around Neil’s waist, steadying him.
Kevin slowly looked Neil up and down, left to right, trying to comprehend how the fuck did I end up having drinks with the mob boss I’ve been chasing down for years -
“I can get the table another round?” Neil offered.
“That’d be very kind of you, Neil.” Renee said, calmly.
“Renee -” Dan managed.
“Beer?” Neil inquired, nodding to Matt. He arched an eyebrow at Kevin. “A bottle of vodka?”
“Are you serious?” Kevin exploded. “Are you serious? The one person who has evaded me for the entirety of my detective career is sitting on my colleague’s lap and offering me a drink when he probably has knives in his pockets and a dead man’s skull in his backpack -” he paused to take a trembling inhale, hands clutching the edge of the table.
“Well, I’m not really sitting on Andrew’s lap,” Neil snorted. “I only have one knife on me, and it’s most certainly not in my pocket: how impractical.” He jostled Allison’s shoulder. “Do you have a skull in your backpack? Because I didn’t bring a backpack.”
“I wouldn’t be caught dead with a backpack,” Allison responded snootily, putting her little handbag on the table. “How tasteless.” Neil laughed.
Andrew pulled him closer.
“I’ll have a clean bitters, Neil,” Renee said, breaking the silence. “If that’s alright.”
“Copying me?”
Renee smiled. “Perhaps. Though I’ve yet to find somewhere that does virgin margaritas as well as you do.”
“You’ll just have to come over for dinner again.”
“Do we arrest him?” Matt whispered into his wife’s ear.
“I have no clue,” Dan responded.
“I’ve been meaning to give you a recipe I found for a healthy pastabake,” Renee suggested, ignoring Andrew’s glare. “I’ve given Andrew leftovers for lunch and he didn’t even notice the difference.”
“That’s a relief,” Neil grinned. “It’s like bathing a cat.” He jostled Andrew’s shoulder. “Retiring means I get to cook more: you’d better watch out.”
“What the fuck,” Kevin whispered.
“Don’t burn the kitchen down,” Andrew said sullenly.
“Retiring?” Matt echoed, weakly. “I didn’t think you could retire from -”
“I, too, have recently decided to follow my passions,” Allison said, airily. “I’m thinking of starting a fashion line. Perhaps a boutique.”
“That’s amazing,” Renee said, a hint of relief in her tone. Andrew knew she’d been holding out on Allison for her to move on from her morally grey loyalties onto something more palpable. “I’m sure you will be successful.”
“What the fuck,” Kevin repeated, a little louder.
“Matt, Dan,” Neil grinned. “Andrew told me you’re adopting. That’s brilliant.”
“Yes,” Matt said, bewildered. “We’ve been fostering a little girl for a few years now: the papers have finally come through.”
“Maybe I could be a stay-at-home dad,” Neil wondered aloud, leaning his head on Andrew’s shoulder. “We could foster, Drew. We’ve got a spare room.”
“You can barely keep the cats alive,” Andrew muttered, shoving his hand into the backpocket of Neil’s jeans as a warning. Neil grinned into his shoulder.
“You have cats?” Dan responded, airily.
“Yes,” Neil nodded gravely. “Andrew’s cousin named them. Sir Fat Cat McCatterson and King Fluffkins.”
Andrew watched as Dan and Matt’s resolve began to falter, the smiles at his husband’s ridiculousness beginning to crack open. Even Wymack had kept his attention on the table, intrigued.
As Neil took down drink orders and Allison shuffled her chair closer to Renee, Andrew knew that everything would turn out alright. Neil was just as Andrew had reluctantly described him: a human disaster with a quick-witted tongue and a brilliant grin. Not just a mobster. Not just Nathan Wesninski’s son.
“What the fuck!” Kevin spluttered: everyone ignored him.
*