“Tell me about her.”
I shake my head, my tears building even as I stir the broth in the pot. “I’m not ready for that. They’ve only been gone a year. When I do talk about them, I want to be able to think of them fondly.”
“And you don’t think of them fondly now?”
“No. I’m still in the anger stage. I’m so freaking mad at them, Karl. I swear.”
“Oh,” he says uncomfortably like he doesn’t know how to follow that up.
I smile sadly. “I’m working on forgiving them still. But yeah, this is how my grandma used to make this soup. And my mom taught me.”
Karl nudges my arm. “And one day, you’ll teach your daughter?”
Before I can answer, Karl gets a call. He steps away to take it, and I’m serving our soup when he gets back.
I keep stirring in ingredients, cooking the soup at a low and steady flame. That question had never come up, and while I like the idea of passing on mom’s recipes, I don’t think I want kids.
Wow. I don’t want kids. I love kids, but I don’t want my own.
I’ll teach Addy and Isael my recipes, I decide, when they come to visit me in Mexico as I’m sure they will.
“So a couple of things,” he says, setting his cell on the counter. “Pictures of us at the taco truck are everywhere. The word’s officially out since we’ve been photographed together now. Roger wants to talk to us about how to handle the situation.”
My stomach knots, but I nod. “And the second thing?”
“We have to babysit Adrian day after tomorrow.”
My spoon falls into my soup, splattering it everywhere. “Your drummer?”
“Yeah. Fritz usually stays with him, but he has to go out of town for Christmas, and he’s leaving tonight. Mind if Adrian stays with us some nights? He lives in the building.”
My jaw drops. “How did I not know Adrian lives in the building?”
Karl shrugs. “I don’t know. You seem to know everything else.”
“And why does he need to be looked after?”
“He doesn’t trust AA to keep his secrets, so he can’t get an official sponsor. The band take turns keeping him on the straight.”
“Adrian is an alcoholic?” I ask. I mean, I kind of know, everyone does, but I’m never sure what’s true and what’s fabricated in the media.
“Recovering,” Karl corrects, taking his first bite. “This is delicious, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
Huh. I’ll be living with not one but two rock stars. Life can be so surprising sometimes. “Well then, that’s great. I’ll hide all the liquor.”
Karl smiles approvingly. “Thank you.”
* * *
Roger paysus a visit before I get a chance to meet Adrian—though I’m sure Roger orchestrated the timing perfectly.
Karl and I are seated together at the couch like a couple of school kids, while Roger stands, looming over us in his black suit, on the other side of the coffee table. He places two pieces of paper in front of us, and Karl and I take one each.
“What is this?” Karl asks.
“Your schedules,” Roger says simply.