Conflict of Interest

Chapter Thirty Six

Kim

I had to leave the events of the day behind because there were other matters at hand. Grace had the night off and I swore I'd give myself a night off too. And a night off, I'd promised myself, not just in the literal sense, but in that I wouldn't let my mind drift to work once after I'd left the precinct. In many ways, I was in an intense game of Taboo with myself, and the words I wouldn't be allowed to say included "Apprehended," "Suspect," "Custody," "Arraignment," "Probable cause," "Letter," "Stab wound," "Conspiracy," "Plea deal," and "Shaw."

After all, I had a relationship to save.

"I think it's good," I said quietly at dinner that night, willing my attention to zero in on Grace and nothing else. "That you and I are able to work things out."

Grace looked back at me, discerningly, taking a sip of the expensive wine we'd ordered, the wine that I was forcing myself to drink even though I really hated wine and would have opted for a Coors in any other circumstance.

"What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "Some people, it's like they fight and it's all over. I love that I can talk to you about what's not working and we can try to fix it. That's really rare."

She nodded. "Okay. I agree."

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," she said, or rather, lied. "How was work?"

I made a face, looked up at the ceiling. "Let's talk about your day," I tried.

"What happened?"

"You don't want to hear about it."

"Sure I--"

"No, you really do not want to hear about it," I guaranteed her, keeping my own promise to myself. "We're having a nice night. Let's not ruin it."

The truth was that I couldn't talk about work because I'd promised myself not to, but also that I couldn't talk about work because everything that had happened at work during the day was centered around Carrie. Carrie and Jennifer had a blow out. Carrie's dad got arrested. Carrie bitched out a defense attorney before moving in on her own father. Carrie won fighting with the attorney, and she won fighting with her dad, but in some turn of events, Carrie had lost to Carver, who had had the very last word - and a profane choice of last words, I might add - and shut Carrie up for the first time in maybe forever. Carrie left in a fit of rage and now I was really, really, inordinately worried about her well being, but couldn't call, because I was out with Grace trying to make it work, and calling was the one thing that could ruin this faster than any other.

"Okay," she said again. "If you say so."

"You look amazing," I tried, taking one of her hands across the table.

She sighed. "I'll get the check."

"No," I stopped her. "I didn't mean that."

"You didn't? You always mean that."

"I was just trying to be romantic," I said, sounding lame and defeated.

"Oh. Why?"

"Because I love you," I tried -- I really, really was trying here. 

She looked up from her hands at me, trying to figure me out.

"I love you too," she finally said cautiously, wondering what my angle was when I was sure I genuinely did not have one.

"When you and I first met," I kept going, ignoring that comment completely, "There was no way I would have seen myself here five years later. You were young, even though I was the immature one, and we wanted different things back then, but we stayed anyway. There's something about you, Grace, something about us, that I just couldn't let go, and I know things have never been perfect, but they've lasted this long for a reason."