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Chapter Six

"So," I started, crunching on a piece of warm Italian bread. "Is this your favorite restaurant? You picked it two years in a row."

My invitation to Nora last year to go to dinner on her birthday became a fast tradition. With Maya's support, we turned her day into a two-night affair. First, a family party, so to speak, and then a private dinner just the two of us. We added my birthday to the rotation as well, but just dinner without the fanfare.

"Yep." Nora grinned while munching on a bite of bruschetta. "I love Italian food. It's my guilty pleasure."

"Did you have fun last night? Maya seemed to enjoy herself."

"Yes." She nodded, reaching for another of the tomato-topped treats. "And she did. She's so much happier now."

"She really doesn't drink much, does she?"

"Not at all." She shook her head. "Her father is a terrible alcoholic, and it scares her. Rightfully so."

"Does it scare you?" I asked, noting how she hadn't taken even a sip of wine yet.

"Not as much." She wiped her fingers on the napkin in her lap. "Some of the decisions that I make when I drink too much do, though."

"Hmm." I propped my elbow on the table after taking a bite of buttered bread. "Finally caught on, have you?"

"A little bit." Her gaze flickered from mine to her plate then back again. "Did you hear that Sali James is giving a lecture at U.W. about the Four Point case?"

"Really?"

"Apparently, she's been doing a few around the country since his death. One of the Canadian victims, Lourdes Lange, who fired the kill shot is joining her for the U.W. talk. I think I'm going to go."

"Wow. I would be tempted as well. What was she like when you did her recovery interview last year?"

"Strong." She sipped her drink in between bites of the appetizers. "Brave. I think it was Miller that gave her the strength to do it, to be honest."

"She's in homicide now. Her and Moreno—was that his name?"

"Yes." She nodded, leaning back in her chair with her hand on her belly. "I better stop eating before I fill up on bread products."

"That's what Italian meals are for." I chuckled and glanced at the server who appeared with our dinners. "Hot damn."

"Here you are, ladies," they said, setting Nora's spaghetti and meatballs down in front of her, and my lasagna in its rightful place. "Anything else you need, feel free to let me know."

"Thanks," we said in unison.

"You're sharing that, you know." She pointed at my plate while lifting her fork. "So don't go nuts."

I laughed and moved the breadbasket aside so she could reach. "Go for it. And I'm helping myself to one of those meatballs."

"Hmm." She narrowed her eyes at me while nudging one of them around the plate. "You want my balls, do you?"

"Oh yeah, bro. I ache to suckle your balls." I stabbed one with my fork then tore out a messy bite.

Nora laughed hard, her fork hitting her dish with a clatter. "Oh my God. You beast."

"And don't forget it." I grinned and pointed the half meatball in her direction.

Nora was easy to amuse as always, and her sparkling eyes shimmered while she gazed at me. Sometimes I loved how she looked at me, even after knowing her for years at this point. The way she looked at me rarely changed.

"This is so good," she said, chewing a mouthful of spaghetti. "I could eat it every day."

"This lasagna is pretty damn amazing, too." I pushed my plate toward her. "Take some."