Page 63 of Into the Dark
“I’ll check with him and let you know later. I think it will be okay. Around seven, half seven?”
“Perfect,” she says before trying to talk to me about menus.
“I’m sure whatever you make will be amazing. He doesn’t have any allergies, so don’t worry about that.”
“Okay, well, that’s a relief!”
“Okay, my lunch is here. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Tell Dad I said hi.”
“Will do, darling. Looking forward to it. Oh, and before you go, Alex, can you call your brother? I spoke with him briefly earlier, and he sounded…I don’t know, strange.”
“Strange how?”
“I don’t know, but I’m worried about him. Will you speak to him?”
“Of course. I’ll give him a call tonight. See you tomorrow.”
After I hang up with Mum, I polish off the last of my ham salad sandwich and pull up my text conversation with Nick. I haven’t spoken to him since we got back. I do wonder if he really sounded strange as Mum has a tendency to over-worry, especially where Nick is concerned. I type out a quick text to him anyway as I finish my bagel. Then I fire one off to Jake to ask if he’s free tomorrow night.
Christ, he’s going to meet my mum and dad.
The anxiety over it should be massive, but it sort of isn’t. It’s strangely low-key. And I think I know why. We have more critical things to worry about. My parents will like him or they won’t, and when we’re all finished eating and the plates are cleared away, all the life-altering things hanging over our heads will still be there. And they are far, far more important than what my parents think of my new boyfriend.
And father of your child. Don’t forget father of your child.
I’m eating a late dinner on the sofa and catching up on some work when my phone rings around 7:00 p.m. Jake didn’t respond to my text this afternoon, so of course I’ve been thinking the worst all day.
“Clearly you enjoy worrying me half to death,” I say, accusatory.
“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry,” he groans. “I just woke up—slept for nine hours straight. I think that was the worst drive ever.”
“You said driving relaxes you.”
“Yeah, but almost eight hours through the night with Kev for company is something else altogether.”
“You drove for eight hours straight?”
“Kev took over at Leeds, but he wasn’t talking much.”
“Did he say where he’s been?” He was missing for almost a week, apparently.
“His dad died.”
“Oh no, that’s awful.”
“He was in prison—you don’t want to know what for—and he got a call Thursday afternoon. Pissed off to Brighton to deal with it, never thought to mention it to anyone. Said it was none of anyone’s business. I don’t think he’s coping all that well, honestly.”
I’ve never had any warm feelings for Jake’s friend, but my capacity for human empathy kicks in. “That’s desperately sad. He has no one else?”
“A sister who doesn’t want anything to do with it.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, enough of the dark shit.” He sighs. “Please tell me you’re you naked and wet.”
“Not this time.” I smile. “I’m working.”
“You’re still at the surgery? At this time?”