hoped she wasn't turning into one of those clingy wives.
He shook his head. "It needs to be more like seven or so."
"Well, then I'll sing at seven as well." She would start planning for the song she'd sing that week. It had to be something special just for him.
"That would work. I'd love to be there for it."
"Are you going to come for karaoke this week? You don't have to stay the whole time." She really liked the idea of singing for him, knowing he was there listening. Yes, she'd sung for him many times, but she hadn't known she was singing for him. Now she would know.
He nodded. "Wouldn't miss it." He took a bite of his sandwich. "This is really good! I thought you couldn't cook!"
"First of all, that's a grilled cheese, not exactly culinary greatness. Second, I never said I couldn't cook. I said I don't like to cook. Big difference. I help out in the kitchen at the bowling alley all the time. When I'm not waiting tables or renting shoes or doing paperwork. I don't want to have to cook at home as well."
"I can understand that. I'll plan on cooking most meals."
She shrugged. "I can get behind that. I'll cook sometimes, but only when you're least expecting it or I'm craving something."
"That works." He reached across the table for her hand. "I'm glad your dad is going to cover for you in the evenings this week. Should make life much more pleasant."
She laughed. "More exciting probably. Especially if you wear your uniform."
He shook his head. "You and your uniform fetish. How will I ever know if you want me for myself and not just the uniform I wear?"
Cissie tilted her head to the side for a moment, pretending to contemplate his question. "It's probably best if you always wear it around me so we never need to find out for certain."
*****
Bob woke up in a cold sweat again, shouting. "Don't go in there! Wait for me!" His whole body was shaking.
Cissie reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. "Bob, you're dreaming again. Are you all right? Do you want to talk about it?" She wanted to help him, but she knew he wasn't going to let her. Why couldn't he just tell her what the problem was?
He shook his head adamantly, jumping out of bed. "Going to get a shower." He shut the bathroom door behind him with a snap. He hated himself for upsetting her, but he knew she could never understand.
As the water washed over him, he leaned his head against the wall. The nightmares were worse all of a sudden, and he had no idea why. He was happier than he'd thought he could be, except for the dreams that haunted him.
He thought back over every detail of the dream, reliving the night Chaynade had died.
Chaynade had been his partner for only three months, a rookie fresh from the academy. She was a young black woman, barely old enough to wear a badge, but so full of life, she'd made every day more pleasant. She'd recently gotten engaged, and he and his fiancée, Tanya, had attended her engagement party just days before.
They'd been on their way to dinner at a little diner in the middle of Chicago where all the cops ate together. The owner gave a twenty percent discount to police officers, knowing it was the best way to make certain he'd be the last restaurant to be robbed. "I want to listen to music for a change. All we ever do is listen to this stupid, boring, dispatcher." Chaynade glared at him.
Bob had stopped at a light, looking at her like she'd lost her mind. "You do know we're cops, and the only way we know when someone is in trouble is if the dispatcher tells us, right?" How many times did he have to explain it to her? If they missed the dispatcher, people could die. There was no time in a cop's workday for music.
"I'll play the music low." She'd propped her phone onto the console of the car, setting it to her iTunes selections. "I love eighties music, don't you?"
Bob merely grunted. He didn't think
He shook his head. "It needs to be more like seven or so."
"Well, then I'll sing at seven as well." She would start planning for the song she'd sing that week. It had to be something special just for him.
"That would work. I'd love to be there for it."
"Are you going to come for karaoke this week? You don't have to stay the whole time." She really liked the idea of singing for him, knowing he was there listening. Yes, she'd sung for him many times, but she hadn't known she was singing for him. Now she would know.
He nodded. "Wouldn't miss it." He took a bite of his sandwich. "This is really good! I thought you couldn't cook!"
"First of all, that's a grilled cheese, not exactly culinary greatness. Second, I never said I couldn't cook. I said I don't like to cook. Big difference. I help out in the kitchen at the bowling alley all the time. When I'm not waiting tables or renting shoes or doing paperwork. I don't want to have to cook at home as well."
"I can understand that. I'll plan on cooking most meals."
She shrugged. "I can get behind that. I'll cook sometimes, but only when you're least expecting it or I'm craving something."
"That works." He reached across the table for her hand. "I'm glad your dad is going to cover for you in the evenings this week. Should make life much more pleasant."
She laughed. "More exciting probably. Especially if you wear your uniform."
He shook his head. "You and your uniform fetish. How will I ever know if you want me for myself and not just the uniform I wear?"
Cissie tilted her head to the side for a moment, pretending to contemplate his question. "It's probably best if you always wear it around me so we never need to find out for certain."
*****
Bob woke up in a cold sweat again, shouting. "Don't go in there! Wait for me!" His whole body was shaking.
Cissie reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. "Bob, you're dreaming again. Are you all right? Do you want to talk about it?" She wanted to help him, but she knew he wasn't going to let her. Why couldn't he just tell her what the problem was?
He shook his head adamantly, jumping out of bed. "Going to get a shower." He shut the bathroom door behind him with a snap. He hated himself for upsetting her, but he knew she could never understand.
As the water washed over him, he leaned his head against the wall. The nightmares were worse all of a sudden, and he had no idea why. He was happier than he'd thought he could be, except for the dreams that haunted him.
He thought back over every detail of the dream, reliving the night Chaynade had died.
Chaynade had been his partner for only three months, a rookie fresh from the academy. She was a young black woman, barely old enough to wear a badge, but so full of life, she'd made every day more pleasant. She'd recently gotten engaged, and he and his fiancée, Tanya, had attended her engagement party just days before.
They'd been on their way to dinner at a little diner in the middle of Chicago where all the cops ate together. The owner gave a twenty percent discount to police officers, knowing it was the best way to make certain he'd be the last restaurant to be robbed. "I want to listen to music for a change. All we ever do is listen to this stupid, boring, dispatcher." Chaynade glared at him.
Bob had stopped at a light, looking at her like she'd lost her mind. "You do know we're cops, and the only way we know when someone is in trouble is if the dispatcher tells us, right?" How many times did he have to explain it to her? If they missed the dispatcher, people could die. There was no time in a cop's workday for music.
"I'll play the music low." She'd propped her phone onto the console of the car, setting it to her iTunes selections. "I love eighties music, don't you?"
Bob merely grunted. He didn't think
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