Page 44 of Into the Dark
“They deliver takeaway to the country, I presume,” he asks, lowering his mouth to take a bite of the toast from my hand.
“Yes, they deliver takeaway to the country, smart-arse.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Smart-arse?”
The grin threatens to break out over my mouth, but I keep it in check and nod up at him.
“Oh, you really shouldn’t have said that, baby.” He shakes his head in disapproval.
“Is that so?”
He moves suddenly, flipping me over so I’m on my stomach, then he pulls down my underwear to spank me lightly on the arse.
“Jake! What are you—?” My laugh is cut off as he bites down softly, spreading my thighs open to his hungry mouth. Then all other thoughts are drowned out. I don’t even care that there are toast crumbs everywhere.
It’s so easy to ignore everything else when we’re here like this. It’s easy to pretend we’re just a “normal happy couple” when we spend the day doing normal happy couple things. When the only decision we have to make is what to call in for dinner. When Jake’s world is miles away in the city. When his secrets that aren’t secrets anymore are too.
It stuns me now, thinking about the two halves of Jake’s life. Thinking about how hard he must have worked to keep me from discovering them. Aversion. Subterfuge. Compartmentalization. All skills he’s a master at. All skills he’s going to have to teach me.
As he promised, I spend most of the afternoon naked. We both do. A naked tangle of limbs between cotton sheets as we make up for six weeks apart. He’s rough to begin with—hard, desperate fucking and coarse sexual language that brings me to the edge, his tongue as wickedly filthy as ever. After, he’s slow and tender as he strokes and kisses his way across my body, whispered promises and declarations against my damp skin.
Around 2:00 p.m. he finally lets us leave the bed. We shower and dress and migrate downstairs, where we potter around like any other couple at home on a Bank Holiday Monday. While Jake flicks through TV channels and reads the sports section of the paper until he dozes off on the couch, I go next door to finish the rest of my laundry, washing and hanging out the well-worn bedsheets. I’m pulling the ever-persistent weeds up from the garden path when he appears at the kitchen door rubbing sleep from his eyes and stretching out his body.
“Evening, sleeping beauty.” I smile up at him, shading the sun from my eyes with my hand.
“Why’d you leave me sleeping so long?”
I shrugged. “You looked like you needed it.”
As he walks up the garden path toward me I discard the weeds and stand, letting him pull me into his arms. When I tilt my head toward him he kisses me deeply, moaning softly into my mouth.
“Your grass needs cutting,” he says as he pulls back from my mouth, casting a look around the garden.
“Is that a euphemism?” I giggle.
He turns back to me and smirks. “You’re fucking filthy, Doctor Marlowe.”
“You know, I used to be a polite, well-mannered girl before you came along.”
His eyes are full of love and warmth as he smiles down at me. “What are you saying here?” he asks, bringing up his hand to pinch my chin softly. “I’ve ruined you?”
“Hmm, maybe.” I smile. “But I think I like this new, ruined me.”
Jake offers to mow my back lawn. He seems quite eager about it too. I give him the key to the shed, and he disappears inside to get the lawnmower—which I worry might not actually work anymore because it’s been in there rusting and unused since Ben left. Ed normally cuts my grass for me when it needs to be done.
I watch in loved-up awe as Jake walks the lawnmower back and forth across the errant green lengths of my garden. The noise brings Ed to the side gate, curious as to who I have doing “his job,” as he calls it. He mentioned yesterday that he did it the weekend after I left for France, but it seems to have shot up astronomically in the three weeks I’ve been away. When I introduce him to Jake it’s comfortable and friendly, and it makes me hopeful about how the meeting with my mum and dad might go.
I almost forgot how charming Jake can be with strangers when he wants to be. Ed leaves with a promise to have us both over for a barbecue the next time the family are up. Jake accepts on our behalf as he shakes Ed’s hand and apologizes for stealing his keys.
Our attempt at normalcy and domestic bliss lasts most of the day.
Until I ruin it.
“Why did you lie to Mark yesterday?” I ask gently. Jake is next to me in bed, half-dozing while I read my book. At my question his eyes flutter open.
“What?”
“Yesterday. When you told him Freddy Ward knows someone is talking to the police.” I turn on my side so I’m facing him. “You said he doesn’t suspect anyone. You were lying, weren’t you?”