Page 62 of The Woman with the Wallet

“I only saw his feet before you guys came in.”

“You didn’t recognize him?” I asked Miko.

“Was too busy trying not to get punched in the face to really pay attention. But, no, I don’t think I knew him.”

“Chuck, did you know Henry’s roommate?” I asked.

“Henry had a roommate? He never mentioned it.”

Great.

Well, we would just have to hope that the Zeno guy could work some magic.

“Did you get enough sleep to do this drive?” I asked when we finally turned into the lot of the hotel, figuring we could delay checkout for a few hours to let him get some rest.

“I’ll be fine. Come on, let’s get our shit so we can go grab some coffee and get back home.”

Get back home.

Those three words should have filled me with relief. Instead, as I climbed out of the SUV, all I felt was an unexpected sort of sadness.

After about a thousand comments from Chuck about the hotel’s décor, the cost of it, and how big a shame it was that we couldn’t spend the day there, we were finally on our way back to Manhattan.

“So, how’d you guys meet?” Chuck asked in a singsong voice as he leaned between the seats again, even though Miko asked him three times to stop doing it.

“I stole his wallet,” I told him.

“Oh, that’s a fun meet-cute.”

“That was full of diamonds,” Miko piped in, making Chuck’s eyes go round.

“And then I got the wallet stolen from me, and got my face beat up in the process.”

“And strangled?” Chuck asked.

“Yeah, and strangled.”

“Does it make your throat hurt?”

“Yeah. It’s like drinking glass,” I told him honestly, but watched as Miko’s gaze slid to me, eyes concerned, likely thinking about what we’d just done a few hours ago in this very car.

“Hey, that place has hotdogs! Can we… oh,” Chuck said as Miko kept driving past.

“We just had bagels.”

“Yeah, but they were stingy with the cream cheese.”

“We will get something the next time we stop for fuel. What?” Miko asked, catching me smiling at his profile.

“Just a glimpse of what you’re like as a big brother. Or maybe what you’ll be like as a dad someday. If, you know, you want that.”

“I do,” he said, nodding. “Maybe not seven like my parents had, but definitely some kids in the future. You?”

“I’ve never given it a lot of thought,” I admitted.

“You were like a mom to Megs.”

“That’s different.”

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