London Bridges

When we got there, Little Alex and I shared a scone with butter and blackberry jam from the Touchstone Bakery. We continued on our walking tour, and closely examined the fifty-five-foot-tall Fremont Rocket attached to one of the local stores. Then I bought Alex a tie-dyed kite, and we took it for a test flight at Gas Works Park, which had a view of Lake Union and downtown Seattle. Seattle has parks galore. It's one of the things I like so much about the city. I wondered if I could ever live out here and imagined that I could, and then I wondered why I was entertaining that line of thought at all. Because Christine had given me a quick little peck on the cheek? Was I that starved for affection? Pitiful.

We did some more exploring, and checked out the sculpture garden and the Fremont Troll, a large sculpture that reminded me of the singer Joe Cocker clutching a Volkswagen Bug in one hand. Finally we had a late lunch-organic, of course-a roasted vegetable salad, plus peanut butter and jelly on Ezekiel bread. When in Rome, and all that.

"Life is pretty good out here, huh, buddy?" I said as we munched our food together. "This is the best, little guy."

Alex Junior nodded that it was good, but then he stared up at me all wide-eyed and i

Oh man, oh man. When am I coming home?

Chapter 98

Christine had asked that I have Alex home before six, and I did as I'd promised. I am so responsible, so Alex, it drives me a little crazy sometimes. She was waiting for us on the porch, in a bright blue dress and heels, and handled everything as well as I could have expected her to. She smiled warmly when she saw us, and hugged Alex against her long legs when he ran up to her squealing, "Mommy!"

"You two look like you had some fun," she said as she stroked the top of the Big Boy's head. "That's nice. I knew you would. Alex, Daddy has to go to his house now. Back to Washington, D.C. You and I have to go to Theo's for di

Tears filled his eyes. "I don't want Daddy to go," he protested.

"I know, but he has to, sweetheart. Daddy has to go to work. Give him a hug. He'll come visit again."

"I will. Of course I will," I said, wondering who Theo was. "I'll always come see you."

Alex ran into my arms, and I loved having him close and didn't want to let him go. I loved the smell of him, his touch, the feeling of his little heart beating. But I also didn't want him to feel the separation that was already making my heart ache.

"I'll be back real soon," I said. "Soon as I can. Don't get too big when I'm not looking."

And Alex whispered, "Please don't go away, Daddy. Please don't go."

He kept repeating it over and over until I was inside my rental car and driving away, waving back to my son, who kept getting smaller and smaller, until he disappeared as I turned the corner of his street. I could still feel Alex's little body pressing against mine. I can still feel it now.

Chapter 99

A little before eight that night I sat alone at the dimly lit bar inside the Kingfish Café on Nineteenth and Mercer in Seattle. I was lost in thoughts about my youngest son-all of my children, really-when Jamilla rolled into the restaurant.

She had on a long black leather car coat, with a dark blouse and black skirt, and she smiled brilliantly when she saw me sitting there at the bar, maybe looking as good to her as she did to me. Maybe. The thing about Jamilla is that she's pretty but doesn't seem to know it, at least to believe it. I had mentioned I was coming to Seattle, and Jam said she'd fly up to have di

At first I hadn't been sure it was a good idea, but that was wrong, all wrong. I was incredibly happy to see her, especially after leaving Alex.

"You look good, Sugar," she whispered against my cheek. "But you do seem a little beat-up, darling. You're working too hard. Burning the candle down."

"I feel a lot better right now," I told her. "You look good enough for both of us."

"I do? Well, thank you for saying that. Believe me, I needed to hear it."

The Kingfish, as it turned out, was a totally democratic restaurant: no reservations, but we were seated quickly at a nice table along the wall. We ordered drinks and food, but mostly we were there to hold hands and talk about everything that was going on in our lives.

"This thing with Little Alex," I told Jamilla about midway through di

Jamilla frowned and seemed angry. "Doesn't she treat him well?"

"Oh no, no, Christine is a good mother. It's the separation that kills me. I love that little boy, and I miss him so much every day I'm away from him. I miss the way he talks, walks, thinks, tells bad jokes, listens to mine. We're pals, Jam."

"And so," Jamilla said, holding my eyes with hers, "you escape into your work."

"And so"-I nodded-"I do. But that's a whole 'nother story. Hey, let's get out of here."

"What do you have in mind, Agent Cross?"

"Nothing illegal, Inspector Hughes."

"Hmmm. Really? Well, that's a shame."

Chapter 100

You've heard the saying get a room? Well, I already had one at the Fairmont Olympic on University across from Ranier Square, and I couldn't wait to get there. Neither of us could. Jamilla whistled under her breath as we walked into the impressive lobby. She stared up at the engraved ceiling, which must have been forty feet high. There was an actual hush inside the large, overdecorated room at a little past ten when we arrived.

"Italian Renaissance decor, big ol' antique chandeliers, five stars, five diamonds. I'm wonderfully impressed," Jam said, gri

"Every once in a while you just have to build in a treat, you know."

"This is definitely a treat, Alex," Jamilla said, and gave me a quick kiss in the lobby. "I'm really happy you're here. And that I'm here, too. I like us a lot."

It kept getting better from there. Our room was on the tenth floor and it was everything it needed to be-bright, airy, plush, with a king-size bed. We even had a view of Elliott Bay with Bainbridge Island in the distance, and a ferry just leaving the waterfront in the foreground. The sights and scenes couldn't have been any better if I'd pla

About that king-size bed at the Fairmont Olympic. It was covered with a gold-and-green-striped comforter-a duvet?-I'm always slightly confused about what distinguishes the two. We didn't bother to remove the comforter/duvet. We just fell onto it, laughing and talking, happy to be there together, realizing how much we'd missed each other.

"Let me make you a little more comfortable, Alex," Jam whispered as she pulled my shirt out of my pants. "How's that? Better?"

"And I'll do the same for you. Only fair," I said to her. "Tit for tat."

"Well, yes, I do like that tat of yours."

I began to unbutton Jamilla's blouse and she continued unbuttoning my shirt. Neither of us was in a hurry. We knew better than to rush any of this. The whole idea was to make it last, to pay attention to each detail, each button, the feel of the fabric, the tiny bumps of anticipation on Jamilla's skin, and on mine, the difficulty catching our breath, the tingle in our bodies, the electricity, sparks, whatever goodness came our way that night.

"You've been practicing," she whispered, and she was already a little short of breath. I liked that.

I laughed. "Uh-uh. Actually, I've been practicing the art of anticipation."

"Like this next button?" she asked.