“No,” he said, slighted. “I tried to hang on to both.”
I sat back and clasped my hands together. “And how did that work out for you?”
“I don’t like this side of you.”
“That’s unfortunate. From now on, this is the only side you’re going to get.” I stared him straight in the eyes, unwavering.
Thomas began to speak, but someone knocked on the door and pushed it open.
“Agent Lindy?” a smooth but high-toned voice came from the hall.
“Yes?” I said, recognizing Constance standing in the doorway.
“You had a visitor downstairs. I brought him up.”
Before I had the chance to wonder who on earth would be visiting, Jackson Schultz walked around Constance and stood in my doorway.
“Oh. My. God,” I whispered.
Jackson was in a French-blue button-down shirt and patterned tie. The only times I’d seen him look so well dressed was the night he proposed and at Agent Gregory’s funeral. The hue of his shirt set off his azure eyes. They used to be my favorite thing about him, but in that moment, I could only notice that they were as round as his face. Jackson had always been fit, but his smoothly shaved head made him appear more portly than he was.
The longer we had been together, the more his less appealing features and habits had grown noticeable—the way he’d suck food through his teeth after a meal; lean to the side when he passed gas, even in public; or not always wash his hands after he had been in the restroom for half an hour. Even the three deep wrinkles where his skull met his neck made me cringe.
“Who the hell are you?” Thomas asked.
“Jackson Schultz, Chicago SWAT. Who the hell are you?”
I stood up. “Special Agent Maddox is San Diego’s ASAC.”
“Maddox?” Jackson laughed once, unimpressed.
“Yes, as in the asshole who runs this place.” Thomas looked to Constance. “We’re in a meeting.”
“Sorry, sir,” Constance said, not looking sorry at all.
She didn’t fool me. She’d told Thomas what kind of coffee to buy, and once she’d learned Jackson was in the building, she’d swiftly escorted him to my office to remind her boss that he had competition. I wasn’t sure whether to strangle her or laugh, but it was clear that she cared about Thomas, and it was nice to know she thought well enough of me to push him in my direction.
“Agent Maddox, we were just wrapping up, weren’t we?” I asked.
Thomas looked at me and then back to Jackson. “No. Agent Schultz can wait the fuck outside. Constance?”
One corner of her mouth turned up. “Yes, sir. Agent Schultz, if you’ll just follow me.”
Jackson kept his eyes on me while he followed Constance until they were both out of sight.
I narrowed my eyes at Thomas. “That was unnecessary.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was visiting?” Thomas barked.
“Do you really think I knew?”
His shoulders relaxed. “No.”
“The quicker you allow him in here, the quicker he’ll leave.”
“I don’t want him here.”
“Stop.”
“What?” Thomas snapped, pretending to stare at the various photographs and Post-its on my wall or the bookshelf or neither.
“You’re being childish,” I said.
He lowered his chin to glower at me. “Get rid of him.” He kept his voice low.
In the recent past, I might have been intimidated, but Thomas Maddox didn’t scare me anymore. I wasn’t sure that he ever had.
“You made such a big deal of me being jealous last night. You know I left him and have zero interest, and look at you.”
He pointed at the door. “You think I’m jealous of Mr. Clean? You’re fucking joking, right?”
“We both know you’re too fucked up in there”—I pointed to my own head—“to worry about my ex-fiancé or about me in general.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’re still in love with her!” I said too loud.
Every member of Squad Five present in the squad room leaned forward or back in their chairs to watch through the glass wall of my office. Thomas walked over and lowered the blinds for one section and then the other, and then he shut the door.
He frowned. “What does that have to do with anything? I can’t like you and still love her?”
“Do you? Like me?”
“No, I just asked you on a date because I enjoy being shot down.”
“You asked me to dinner right before you had a meltdown. You’re not over her, Maddox.”
“There you go with the Maddox again.”
“You’re not over her,” I said, hating the sadness in my voice. “And I have goals.”
“You’ve mentioned that.”
“Then, we agree that it’s pointless.”
“Fine.”