“Your love life. You know. The one you don’t have.”
“There’s a reason I don’t have one.”
“Because you’re emotionally unavailable and your boss wants you to work with a serial killer?”
“Exactly. Those are excellent reasons.”
We reach the bottom of the stairs. Head out into the February afternoon. It’s not terrible out—maybe forty degrees, that weird Philly winter where you can’t tell if you need a real coat or just a hoodie.
“And I have Nikko’s car,” Alex adds, like this explains everything.
It doesn’t.
“You are being suspicious,” I say again, following her to the street where Nikko’s sedan is parked. Navy blue. Surprisingly clean for a car that belongs to a man with a toddler.
“I’m being mysterious.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It’s really not.”
“It really is.”
She unlocks the car. We climb in. The interior still smells like Eleni’s baby powder and the faint scent of whatever Greek food Nikko had for lunch three days ago.
“Did you learn anything last week about Dahlia?” I ask as she starts the engine.
Her mood sours for a brief moment. The smile dims. “No. I was busy being mad at you.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry. Be better.” But she’s already smiling again. Can’t stay mad. Not at me. Not after everything. “I’ll be right back at it this week though. I miss you in the office.”
“Me too.” I slump in the passenger seat as she pulls out. “City Hall is so fucking quiet, Alex. I’m working too fast and having to slow down because I’m bored. There’s only so much administrative law compliance review a person can do before their brain leaks out their ears.”
“Sexy.”
“The sexiest. Real thrilling stuff. Please ensure all municipal code violations are properly documented in triplicate.” I make my voice monotone. Dead inside. “It’s a dream.”
“At least Marcus isn’t there.”
“Right.” The only positive in my entire day. “He’s been at Draven & Associates more often. Dom keeps calling him in for meetings. I swear he’s doing it on purpose to keep him away from me. Which means I get to sit in my quiet office at City Hall and contemplate the meaninglessness of existence.”
“That’s the spirit.”
She turns onto 2nd Street. We’re heading south. Away from Fishtown. Toward... somewhere. I have no idea where.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“I told you. Painting.”
I sit up straighter. Excitement bubbling. “Oh! Like one of those painting-with-a-twist places! The ones where everyone gets wine drunk and paints the same sunset while an instructor tells you exactly what to do!”
I’ve wanted to do one of those for years. Alex and I have talked about it. Added it to our bucket list. Never got around to it because life kept happening.
“Yeah.” She draws the word out. That suspicious tone back.
My excitement dims immediately. “Why’d you say it like that?”
