“So…” he started, then stopped, pacing the room slowly.
I sat on the only sofa that wasn’t occupied. The house was neat—something I could easily attribute to Theo. He was a germaphobe. But clothes were scattered across the other couch, and I immediately knew they were Jamie’s. She struck me as a scatterbrain with a chaotic sense of humor.
“Theo, you pacing around is making my head spin…”
“I’m trying to figure out how to tell you in a way you’ll understand why not knowing was better for you,” he said, cutting me off.
“I mean, there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to understand how you’re sleeping with Detective Johnson’s daughter,” I whispered, instinctively lowering my voice like child services might be hiding behind the walls. “Wasn’t she a child when you met her?”
“She was the same
