Page 145 of Into the Dark
“Oh, I don’t know, anesthetize her and then surgically remove him? You could do it! Use your powers for good,” she laughs. I laugh too.
“Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe he isn’t all bad? I mean, I suppose Jake isn’t exactly marriage material to everyone either—and by ‘everyone,’ I mean my mother.”
Rob laughs at that.
“Perhaps Simon has his good sides and he only shows them to Leigh.”
“I guess. I mean, Dan isn’t perfect,” Rob says.
“Oh, he isn’t? I had no idea. Tell me more.” I sit forward, eyes wide.
Rob snorts. “Well, you know he’s a terrible singer for a start. He’s terrible at massages, he hates animals—like, all of them, even little furry ones.” She gives me a wide look of concern. “And when he trims his face he leaves those little black hairs everywhere, even inside the frame of the bathroom mirror.”
“Sounds horrendous.” I shiver dramatically, and Rob waves me off.
“And please, Jake is nigh on perfect and your mum will get the memo soon enough. He’s secretive, which means mysterious, and mysterious is always attractive no matter how much we kid ourselves. He’s a dad, and dads who look like him are extra-attractive. And a troubled upbringing is only going to make him more determined to create his own perfect little family unit with you and the bump, so please, spare me, Alex. The ex-girlfriend is a worry, but that isn’t his fault, and he has a massive—”
“Do not dare finish that bloody sentence, Robyn!”
She bites back a grin and holds up her hands. “Fine. Is he messy? Please tell me he leaves his dirty socks stuffed down the sides of the sofa, crumbs in the bed. Give me something!”
I shake my head. “Nope, sorry. He’s tidy. Surprisingly so, in fact.”
“Ugh! You two make me physically sick. I still can’t believe you said no.” Rob snorts, half in disgust, half in amusement.
“Oh, not this again,” I groan. “Stopppp, please don’t!”
The waiter puts the little black tray with the bill on it on the table, and I smile my thanks, sliding it toward me.
“Technically, I didn’t say no…I just told him we’d talk about it when things aren’t so bloody crazy. Which they are right now.”
“Hmm, if you say so.” She sounds unconvinced. “Well, next time he tries it, he’d better be bent down on one knee with a beautiful Tiffany ring. You deserve that this time.”
She isn’t talking about Jake’s blurted car proposal; she’s talking about Ben. He proposed one night as we sat down to dinner with the words “we should get married, I think.” I agreed half-heartedly at the time, mainly as our food was getting cold. When I told Rob, she screwed her face up in disgust and called him a “complete twat.” She was more annoyed than I was at how my first proposal went.
I don’t care how Jake proposes next time. I just want it to be with the promise that there’s nothing between us and it. I need him free and clear of this life and ready to start a new one with me.
“I love that you want that for me, but I don’t really care about all that.” I reach into my bag to get my purse, and as I do Rob swipes the bill away from me.
“I’m getting this,” she says defiantly. “And yes, I do want it for you because you deserve it. And deep down you do want it—you just don’t know you want it. But Jake could pull it off. I mean, with some help, of course…” She strokes her finger over her chin with the air of an evil genius.
I laugh. “You honestly can’t help yourself, can you?”
She shrugs innocently. As she goes to set her credit card down on the little black tray, I reach across and lightly smack her hand out of the way.
“You paid last time,” she says.
“No—you did. I’m getting this, Robyn.” I give her a stern look, and she thinks about arguing but finally decides against it.
“Fine. I’ll transfer half to you when I get home,” she sighs.
“Rob, no.”
She ignores me, distracted as her eyes light up at a sight over my shoulder. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear!”
When I turn around, Jake is strolling toward us, hands shoved in his pockets, smiling brightly. He’s layered up stylishly in a white T-shirt, gray button-down top, and a light gray woolen jacket. He looks good enough to eat, and I’m full of pizza. When he reaches our table he leans in to kiss me chastely on the mouth.
“I got here too early, sorry,” he says by way of apology. “There’s a game on at Stamford Bridge—thought the traffic would be worse so I left early.”