I do prefer the subway for these times, but there's no fucking way she's going near the MTA and crushing crowds. Too easy to grab her or hurt her.
"Neither do I. And we've been working on it for a while."
"What are you looking for?"
I shrug and pull her hand to my thigh, liking the heat it spreads through me. "I want to know where he's hiding."
She tries to pull her hand free. "You could have told me that."
"Anything you find, anything at all, could be useful, okay? I didn't put any restrictions on it because?—"
"You wanted to humor me."
"No. I figured a fresh take without perimeters might be better."
When we get home, she takes her computer as we head upstairs.
"Food's here!" Lyndall shouts from the kitchen. "And hi! If you want some, you better hurry! Growing girl and all that!"
"Do not eat it all!" I shout back.
"Don't dawdle."
"Fuck, that kid..." I mutter.
And Lola laughs. "If there's anything left, I'll come down and eat it."
I somehow manage not to order her to eat now. All I say is, "I got fries and burgers deluxe—no cheese, nice and medium, and fries. And, in case you didn't want that, a vat of Jewish penicillin. Matzo ball soup. And a salad."
"A salad?"
"I'll eat it if you two won't."
"Well, Lyndall won't eat the soup. I'll have that later. I'm going to do some work."
I strip out of my suit and pull on jeans and a T-shirt, then grab the black hoodie I like wearing at home.
It smells a little like Lola, and I like that. She must put it on when I'm not here.
The thought warms something inside me.
I run down the stairs and to the kitchen first, grabbing a burger and some fries.
"That's for Lola." I point at the soup and crackers.
"And how's your girlfriend? Things seem cozy. Are you having S-E-X?"
"Shut up."
"Make me." And she picks up the second burger and licks the top of it, even though her half-eaten one is in front of her.
"Gross, Lyndall. And if you don't watch your tongue in all the ways, the next order? Gruel."
With that, I saunter off with my food.
"What's gruel?" she shouts.
I don't answer.
