He nodded.
After they ordered, Brit asked, “What are your plans today?”
She poured cream into her coffee. “I’m visiting Tanya.”
He lifted his freshly-filled cup to his mouth and steam rose around his lips. “Does Stan know where she lives?”
“He’s never been over there.”
“Does he know her last name? Is she in the phone book?”
Cali stirred her coffee, watching the dark chocolate color wash to a light brown. “I don’t think he’d expect I would go to her house. We’ve just become friends.”
“Okay.” He stared into her eyes. “I get off at two.”
What did he expect her to say? ‘Good, I’ll meet you back at the hotel for nap time and let you use my toothbrush again.’
“I could swing by Tanya’s when I get off. It might be around five,” he said. “We could eat dinner out for a change.”
“You know where Tanya lives?” she asked.
“Yeah, I went by there the day I was looking for you, remember?”
“Yeah.” She studied her silverware, to keep her eyes off him.
“Does that sound okay?” he asked.
So he expected to spend the afternoon with her again. And probably the night. She wasn’t sure if she was happy about that or not. Or maybe she did know. The fact that she looked forward to it scared her.
“You work really odd hours,” she said, wanting to change the direction of her thoughts.
He sipped from his cup again. “It’s not always like this. We just have a lot of cases.”
“You mean the cases about the two officers?” Her question brought the sadness back into his eyes, and suddenly she didn’t feel so awkward anymore. She could relate to him in a big way. Two people, nose deep in grief. “I’m sorry about your partner.”
His expression tightened, and Cali understood. She hated hearing those words, too. Yet now she understood everyone on the other side, wanting to let her know that they cared, that she wasn’t alone. And she wanted to do that for him. “Death sucks.”
The look in his eyes softened. “Yeah. How are you coping?”
“I miss her.” The moment leant itself to the truth. “A lot.”
“Are you still dreaming about her?”
She dropped the spoon. “How did you know—?”
“You told me,” he said. “The day your car got broken into. Remember? The whole dreams and lesbians talk.” He grinned slightly.
She bit down on her lip. “Oh, yeah. During my meltdown.”
A smile made his eyes crinkle. “You seemed to bounce back.”
She sipped her coffee, and bits and pieces of last night’s dream started swimming through her mind. What had Mom told her?
“So you’re still dreaming about her?” he asked again.
“Some. But I’m not crazy,” she added and immediately wished she hadn’t.
“I never thought you were.” Honesty gave his voice a deeper quality, and Cali decided she liked his voice, along with everything else about him.
“You dream about your partner?” she asked.
He unrolled his napkin-clad silverware. “Not dream. I keep seeing him in my head at the morgue. Then I see an image of his wife.” He inhaled. “It’s not pretty.”
“So he was married?”
“Yeah.” He looked down at his phone on the table. “She’s called a couple of times. I know she wants to know who killed her husband and I can’t tell her.”
Her chest hurt for Brit. “I’m sure she understands,” she said.
“How could she when I don’t?” He looked away.
“What was he like? Your partner?” She knew the question was unwanted, but she felt compelled to get him to talk about something besides the grief.
“We were as different as night and day. He was a Republican. I’m a Democrat. He believed in silver linings. I’m a realist. He was analytical. I’m a fly by the seat of my pants type. He was married, had a kid, went to church on Sunday for God’s sake. I’m different.”
She pondered his words. “So you’re a spontaneous atheist and a diehard playboy who believes in taking care of the little guy, but doesn’t want to add to the world’s population because you really think the world is going to pot.”
He laughed and curled his hands around his cup. “Yup, something like that.” His grin lingered in his eyes, and Cali noticed he looked less tired this morning. He didn’t resemble a dickhead at all, just someone who needed compassion. And she wanted to reach deep into her soul and offer him a big handful.
He twisted his cup in his palms and stared at her. “That sounds like something Keith would have said.” He hesitated. “So you got me pegged. Tell me about you.”
“What about me?” She tried not to look at his hands. He had nice hands. She remembered the kiss yesterday and how his palms had felt as they found their way under her sweater. The touch had lasted seconds, but the memory hung on.