I sit down across from her, and for the first time in six months, I don't feel the urge to look over my shoulder. Don't feel the need to plan my exit strategy or scout for trouble.
I just feel... present.
"Coffee sounds perfect," I say.
A waitress appears almost immediately: young, maybe early twenties, with a name tag that says "Jenny." She takes one look at me, then at Alice, and something knowing crosses her face.
"Morning, Alice," she says warmly. "Your usual?"
"Please," Alice says, and I notice the slight flush creeping up her neck. "And maybe some orange juice for Maya? If that's okay?" She looks at me for confirmation.
"That's fine," I tell her, then look at Jenny. "Black coffee. And whatever breakfast special you've got."
"Pancakes with eggs and bacon," Jenny says. "Best thing on the menu. Maya, what about you, sweetheart?"
Maya is still on the ground with Biscuit, but she looks up at the mention of her name. "Chocolate chip pancakes! With whipped cream! And strawberries if you have them!"
"We definitely have them," Jenny confirms, writing it all down. "This is so sweet," she adds, looking between me and Alice. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone, Alice."
"We're not—" Alice starts, her face going from pink to red.
"Just breakfast," I finish for her, but even I can hear how unconvincing it sounds.
Jenny gives us both a look that says she's not buying it for a second. "Right. Just breakfast. I'll get these orders in for you."
She disappears, and Alice covers her face with her hands. "Oh my God. By noon, the entire town is going to think we're dating."
"Does that bother you?" I ask, surprising myself with the question.
She lowers her hands, looks at me with those dark eyes. "I don't know. Does it bother you?"
"No."
The word comes out more firmly than I intended, and I watch something shift in her expression. Not quite relief, but close.
"Okay then," she says softly. "I guess we're just two people having breakfast who don't care what the town thinks."
"Exactly."
Maya finally abandons Biscuit long enough to climb into the chair next to me, though she keeps one hand stretched out so she can still pet him. "Do you teach all the kids?"
"I teach fourth grade," Alice explains. "So, kids who are about nine or ten years old. But you'd start in pre-kindergarten, which is a different classroom with Mrs. Henderson. She's wonderful.She's been teaching for a really long time and she loves dinosaurs."
"I like dinosaurs!" Maya's eyes light up. "My favorite is the triceratops because it has three horns and that's cool."
"That is very cool," Alice agrees seriously. "Mrs. Henderson has a whole dinosaur corner in her classroom. With books and toys and even some fossil replicas."
I watch them talk, watch Maya come alive in a way she hasn't in months. She's always been social, always loved meeting new people, but on the road there's only so much socializing a four-year-old can do. Diners and gas stations and the occasional park don't exactly provide consistent friendships.
"Your dad mentioned you've been to a lot of states," Alice says. "Which one was your favorite?"
Maya thinks about it seriously, her little face scrunched up in concentration. "Colorado. Because we saw mountains and they were really big. And there were chipmunks."
"Chipmunks are very important," Alice says, completely straight-faced, and something warm spreads through my chest at the way she's treating Maya's answer like it's the most reasonable thing in the world.
"What about you, Daddy?" Maya asks. "What was your favorite?"
I think about it. Six months of riding, dozens of towns, countless miles of highway. "This state," I say finally. "The sky is bigger than anywhere else. Makes everything feel... possible."