Maya alternated sips of coffee with bites of cheesecake until she was done and then went upstairs, presumably to brush her teeth, without another word. She hadn't asked whether or not Vincent was going back to work or encouraged him to go to bed.
It seemed that she had meant what she said about not being his mother. Her ire was about being lied to rather than what he was doing.
She wasn't his mother; she was his wife. He had heard they could be every bit as nagging but perhaps that was only when they actually cared about their husbands. He was safe in that regard.
He preferred it that way. No one had truly cared about him in decades but he didn't mind that. Cassandra already nagged far too much considering she was a program he had created.
