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Michael’s looked at Davis’s gut The man was tall and lean everywhere except for his stomach, which had a small round swell to it “Clearly”

“Fuck you, little pissant,” Davis said congenially as he opened the brown paper bag with solee “Come to Daddy”

Exhaling in frustration, Michael reached into the back of the car for his own brown paper bag Inside was a little plastic container with homemade salmon teriyaki and rice Kiersten used to cook healthyto do that stuff for himself He didn’t think he was half bad at it

“Grow a pair and eat some real food, Mike” Davis sneered at the rice, salmon, and salad

Michael ignored his ribbing He ate well six days out of seven There was no point hitting the gy to eat shit like pastries and burgers Michael respected his body He gave it the fuel it needed to be strong Even if it was torture sometimes

“No co’s definitely up with you Is it Bronson? Word is out he’s bangin’ your ex”

Michael liked Davis He did But the man had no fuckin’ filter or diplomacy “I’m happy for them,” he muttered around a mouthful

“So, what is it?”

He shrugged, not ready to talk about Dahlia or the fact that every instinct in his body told hinets Always had been “Night shift Not used to it yet”

His partner shrugged “It takes time”

“It’d be easier if you wouldn’t stop every five seconds for a pinwheel or a tonic” The oddamn Pepsi

“You know, I think you’d benefit from a fuckin’ pinwheel now and then You moody little fucker”

Michael smirked

“Where do you think this asshole is?” Davis asked after a few seconds of quiet eating

“Back to the girlfriend in Chelsea My bet is she called hiht think her place has the all clear for the night”