“Oh, ten minutes maybe.”
“Good,” she said. “I’ll get a coffee.” And, with that, she hung up.
He would tell her to get two, but she was who she was, and either she would or she wouldn’t. And he knew it wouldn’t be a reflection on how much she thought of him. It would most likely be a reflection of the fact that she was already focused and wouldn’t think past that. But he wouldn’t worry about it. When he pulled up, she was holding two cups.
He smiled as she put the cups on the roof of his car and opened the door before handing him one.
“I was sitting here, thinking that, if you were in a better mood, I could have asked you to get me one too, and I was thinking it was fifty-fifty as to whether you would think of it or not.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I was already there, so it was a simple thing.”
“It is a simple thing,” he agreed, “but you don’t usually think of it.”
She frowned, as she slammed the door closed. “Are you saying that I don’t think of others?”
“You do sometimes,” he admitted, “but generally our relationship hasn’t been all that open to thinking of things like that.”
She shook her head. “I’m still not exactly sure what you’re trying to say.”
“Not certain I am either,” he stated, “but how about I just saythank youand let’s move on.”
She nodded. “That works.”
But her voice was a little distant. He wondered if he had insulted her. It wasn’t something that he ever really worried about with her. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“Whatever,” she replied. “What church are you heading to first?”
He pointed to the map he had printed off, on the dash, with seven numbered circles noted thereon.
She grabbed it and nodded. “That should work.”
“Glad you think so,” he teased, shaking his head.
She glared at him. “Look. I’m just focused on one thing.”
“I know,” he stated. “I get it.”
She groaned. “But I don’t have to be a bitch about it. I get that too. Thank you for picking me up and for letting me come with you. It’s something I need to keep an eye on.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re not a cop, so you can’t go barging around doing cop things.”
“Well, I can,” he noted, “and I do on a regular basis, in case you didn’t know that.”
She stopped, looked at him, and asked, “What do you mean by that?”
He shrugged. “It’s hardly like I do any superhero type stuff. But, in my work, I see an awful lot of shit, and, if I can fix it, I fix it. If I can’t, I can’t. And, in this case, whatever you want to call this ability of mine, it is screwing up my life, so, if I can’t fight it, then maybe I need to join it and to just accept it.”
“That might be easier for you,” she stated cautiously.
He heard the tone of her voice and smiled. “Go ahead. You can insult me.”
“It’s not about insulting you,” she argued. “It’s about making sure that your perspective is squared away.”
He laughed aloud at that. “How can one have a squared-away perspective regarding psychics?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, with half a smile. “It just sounded right.”