Page 81 of Knight
“Eh.” He picked up his plate and went to the kitchen. “Let’s just say it went.”
I leaned against the breakfast bar, watching him fill a couple of tortillas with grilled chicken, peppers, onions, and mushrooms.
He paused. “You like mushrooms, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” I eyed his plate, still on the counter. “Wait, are you making those for me? I thought you were getting seconds.”
“Of course it’s for you. You haven’t eaten, have you?”
“Well, no.”
“Figured as much.” He placed the fajitas on a second plate he must have taken down before I even arrived and handed it over to me. “You want a drink with that?”
“You don’t have to feed me all the time,” I protested. “I can make a sandwich.”
“The food’s already made,” Knight said.
“Yeah, but you could save this for lunch tomorrow,” I said. “I don’t feel right about eating your groceries.”
“So, I’ll use your groceries next time,” he said without missing a beat. The guy was so easygoing he made it difficult to kick up a fuss.
Knight pulled open the fridge. “All we’ve got is beer or water. I could mix up a margarita?”
“Just water. I already had drinks with Liliana after work.”
He nodded and pulled out a bottle of water. I waited while he topped up his plate with the seconds I’d expected him to get, along with extra jalapeños and hot sauce that he’d thankfully left off mine, then followed him to the living room.
We had the table, but we usually ate in front of the TV, anyway. I did a double take when I looked at the screen.
“Is thatPrison Break?”
“Yep. You know it?”
“I watched it years ago.” I hesitated. “I wouldn’t think you’d enjoy watching shows about prison.”
“Needed a reminder,” he said before taking a big bite of fajita. The fumes wafted from his plate, spicy enough to make my eyes burn.
I picked up my first stuffed tortilla. “Did something happen today?”
He chewed and ate, more pensive than usual. I let him take his time. It wasn’t like we were divulging our deepest, darkest secrets to each other. We usually opted for more fun ways to take our minds off our problems. But there was a tiny part of me—the part that Liliana had poked at—thatwantedhim to talk to me.
It was better if I didn’t give that any weight, so I changed the subject.
“I think I met Hollywood’s ex last weekend.”
Knight blinked. “What? How?”
“The how isn’t important.” HIPAA would frown on me talking about patients. “We just crossed paths. Her name was Carrie Anderson. She had a little girl named Ruby.”
“Shit, yeah, that’s his daughter. He hasn’t seen her except from a distance.”
“Well, she’s adorable,” I said. “Chubby cheeks. Big blue eyes. Cute pigtails.”
Knight chuckled. “You should tell Holly. He could use some good news about now.”
“Unfortunately, Mom wasnothappy when I mentioned his name,” I said. “That part isn’t such great news. She didn’t seem to want him even mentioned in front of Ruby.”
“That’s too bad.” Knight took another sip of beer. “It’s not surprising, though. I’m just glad that I didn’t have anyone to hurt when I went to prison.”
