Sebastian headed off toward the noise. “I’m going to see if Nicki needs help. Talk to you later. Mateo, come get your snack.”
“OK, Dad.” The boy stood still, though, looking shyly at Roz. “Are you Mommy’s friend?”
“Yes, I’m a new friend of your mom’s. We both went to the book signing on Saturday.”
“Mommy took me to the bathroom and Gabby came too because she didn’t want to stay with you.”
Roz guffawed. “That seems to be the case.”
“I’m old enough to go by myself, but Mommy always wants to come.” He rolled his eyes. “But she told me to watch the little kids when she left for a couple of minutes. That’s because I’m the oldest.”
“Wow. She did? That must mean you’re very mature for your age.”
“Mateo!” Nicole’s voice called from the kitchen.
“Yes, I am mature.” He enounced the word like it was new to him and beamed. “I have to go before Gabby eats all of my cookies.” And off he ran.
But as she let herself out the front door, Roz was still stuck on “Wow.” Nicole left her kids in the bathroom on Saturday while she disappeared. Where did she go?
Did she go see Wayne Vandershell?
Chapter Eleven
Alden took a sip of his black brew and regarded his laptop. He’d typed up a very rough draft of a story that left out way more than it said. And he needed to know what Roz got before they could publish anything. He picked up his phone to text her.
How’d it go with the Esquivels?
She responded a few minutes later.
We should talk.
Let’s meet.
Bean Me Up?
Already there.
Of course you are. See you in ten.
He had time to order her a mocha before she arrived; this time of the afternoon, there were only a couple of people at separate tables, wrapped up in their computers. The big windows filled the place with afternoon light that made the space art glow, and a mix of folk and alternative rock played over the speakers.
The door jingled as Roz rolled in, wearing a different outfit from what she’d had on at lunch. Whatever she wore, she made his heart fizz. She strolled over to his table in the back corner, which sat under a big streak shot of a nighttime rocket launch. He stood and kissed her on the cheek.
“I missed you,” Alden told Roz.
“You’ve been too busy to miss me.” She plunked her bag on the floor and sat in the chair next to his.
“That’s your answer?” he said as he settled in his chair.
She gave him a shy look. “I missed you, too.” She eyed the paper cup he pushed toward her. “Do I smell mocha? You’re the best.” She scooped it up and took a long sip.
Alden eyed her with skepticism. “How is it that I am the more sentimental one in this relationship? I’m the cynic.”
“Are you still a cynic?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
“Cynics are basically idealists who are jaded by a world that doesn’t share their values. Which is the standard journalist headspace,” Roz said.
