Confess(27)

“Auburn.”

I groan, not ready to wake up, but someone’s hand is on my shoulder, shaking me.

Rude.

“Auburn, wake up.” It’s Emory’s voice. “The police are here.”

I immediately roll onto my side and see her standing over me. She’s got mascara under her eyes and her blond hair is sticking out in all directions. Her unexpected, unkempt appearance scares me more than the fact that she just said the police are here. I sit straight up in bed. I try to find my alarm clock to check the time, but my eyes won’t open enough for me to see it. “What time is it?”

“After nine,” she says. “And . . . did you hear me? I said there’s a cop here. He’s asking for you.”

I scoot myself off the bed and look for my jeans. I find them crumpled on the floor on the other side of my bed. As soon as I get them buttoned, I reach into the closet for a shirt.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Emory asks, standing by my door now.

Shit. I forgot she doesn’t know anything about me.

“It’s not the police,” I tell her. “It’s just Trey, my brother-in-law.”

I can see she’s still confused, and that makes sense since he’s not really my brother-in-law. It’s just easier to refer to him that way sometimes. I also have no idea why he’s here. I open my bedroom door and see Trey standing in the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee.

“Is everything okay?” I ask him. He spins around and as soon as I see his smile, I know everything is fine. He’s just here for a visit.

“All good,” he says. “Shift just ended and I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d bring you breakfast.” He holds up a sack and tosses it toward me on the counter. Emory walks around me and grabs the bag, opening it.

“Is it true?” she asks, looking up at Trey. “Do cops really get all the free doughnuts they want?” She grabs one of the pastries and shoves it in her mouth while making her way toward the living room. Trey is looking at her with contempt, but she doesn’t notice. I wonder if she’s aware that she hasn’t looked in a mirror today. I doubt she cares. I love that about her.

“Thank you for the breakfast,” I tell him. I take a seat at the bar, confused as to why he would think it’s okay to just stop by without notice. Especially this early in the morning. But I don’t say anything, because I’m sure it’s just me being cranky due to my late night and lack of sleep. “Is Lydia coming home today?”

He shakes his head. “Tomorrow morning.” He sets his cup on the bar. “Where were you last night?”

I cock my head, wondering why he would even ask that. “What do you mean?”

He glances back at me. “She says you called over an hour late.”

Now I get why he’s here. I sigh. “Did you really want to bring me breakfast or are you using it as an excuse to check up on me?”

The offended look he shoots me makes me regret my comment. I blow out an exasperated breath and rest my arms on the bar. “I was working,” I say. “I filled in at an art gallery for extra money.”

Trey is standing in the exact spot Owen was standing in last night. Trey and Owen are probably the same height, but for some reason Trey just appears more intimidating. I don’t know if it’s because he’s always in a police uniform, or if it’s the hardened facial features. His dark eyes always seem to be frowning, whereas Owen can’t seem to help smiling. Just thinking about Owen and the fact that I’ll see him again tonight instantly puts me in a better mood.

“An art gallery? Which one?”

“The one on Pearl, near my work. It’s called Confess.”

Trey’s jaw tenses and he sets his cup of coffee on the counter. “I know the one,” he says. “Callahan Gentry’s son owns that building.”

“Am I supposed to know who Callahan Gentry is?”

He shakes his head and pours his coffee in the sink. “Cal’s an attorney,” he says. “And his son is trouble.”

I wince at his insult, because I don’t understand it. Owen is the last person I would associate with the word trouble. Trey grabs his keys off the bar and begins making his way out of the kitchen. “I don’t like the idea of you working for him.”

Not that Trey’s opinion matters to me in any way, but I’m a little put off that he even made that comment. “You don’t have to worry about it,” I say. “I was fired last night. Not what he was looking for in an employee, I guess.” I fail to tell him the true reason I was fired last night. I’m sure that would upset him even more.