“She’s beautiful. I mean, I only saw her briefly at the funeral, but she was beautiful. There’s a lot of her in Noah, too.”

“She’s an amazing mother.”

Kimba runs her finger along the condensation of her glass. “So she doesn’t believe in marriage?”

“No. I did ask when we found out she was pregnant, but she turned me down.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

She gives me that look again, full of speculation and a tiny bit of censure. “Look, Kimba, there’s something I want to tell you.”

“Whoop! Whoop!” Mona says, plopping her oversized bag onto the table.  “Hey, good people. Sorry I’m late. I had one nerve left, and Alicia worked it. Late ass. I love her, but she can’t be on time to save her life.”

“Must run in the family,” I say dryly, forcing down disappointment that my fifteen minutes alone with Kimba are up.

“Watch it.” Mona points a warning finger at me. “Sorry I’m late, Kimba. I promised you a good time and then stuck you with this guy.”

Kimba breathes out a laugh, shrugging. “It wasn’t so bad.”

We look at each other, and it feels to me like the width of the table between us pulses. It pulls on my senses so strongly. Kimba lowers her lashes, sips her water and picks up her menu.

“Well I, for one,” Mona says, “need a drink. Where’s our server?”

I nod to Cherise, who is even now approaching, pad in hand and smile in place. “Here she comes, but you do realize it’s only noon.”

“I told you Alicia drained me,” she sighs heavily and turns on a beatific smile for Cherise. “How’s your margarita?”

Cherise snorts. “Strong.”

Mona splits a smirk evenly between Kimba and me. “I’ll have two.”

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Kimba

I’m in head-to-knee pose when my phone starts buzzing.

Not now. I was just starting to get all centered, dammit.

It takes most people time to unplug. Me? You basically have to jerk the plug from the wall and toss it into a furnace before I can relax. It’s the nature of what I do. It’s how I’m made, but the homeopath Dr. Granden recommended suggested I try yoga to alleviate any mild hot flashes, mood swings and insomnia as a result of perimenopause. So each morning, I’m on the mat.

My phone buzzes again.

I thought I was being smart putting it out of reach. The hope was that if I couldn’t reach it, I wouldn’t answer it.

All the possible scenarios crowd out what little peace I was taking for myself. Could it be Congressman Ruiz? Maybe Piers with new information? Are Lennix and the baby okay? Mona?

Ezra?

Not Ezra.

Stop it with the Ezra.