Page 86 of Into the Dark
“Nah, not to me, you don’t. You smell like mine…”
Another tremble. “Because you’re a deviant,” I manage, breathless.
He nods and rears his head up to smile at me. “Yeah, well, least you know the half of it now.” He spins me around then and nudges me in front of him into the en suite. When he spanks my butt, I turn to give him another of my exaggerated gapes.
“Yes, that I do…” I nod.
When I pull up to Rob’s a couple of hours later I can still feel the aftereffects of him echoing over my body. It’s in the tightness around my thighs and the tenderness between my legs, and it’s the sensitive tingling that lingers over my breasts—though perhaps that’s something else. There was a moment earlier too, in the shower, while he was on his knees in front of me with his hands roaming over my belly, when he lifted his head up and looked me deep in the eye. My heart stopped beating entirely. He knows, I thought. He felt something. He knows. “You look so beautiful from this angle, you know that?” was all he said, eyes filled with lust and awe. My heart kicked back into motion and my breathing started up again as I smiled with relief.
But I know I don’t have much longer. He’ll figure it out. The fact he has a lot on his mind right now is only likely to serve me well for a short while more because Jake pays attention. With me, he’s always paying attention. Also, the need to tell him is getting stronger every day. For example, I spent the entire run imagining how I’d tell him, and when, and the image of him smiling with joy as he dropped to his knees to hug my stomach was something rather spectacular. But I was living in a fantasy land. Because for that to happen, we need to be well clear of not only Jake’s “dark shit,” but also Laurent and any lingering thoughts of those cold six weeks apart.
I ring Rob’s doorbell and let myself in as I normally do. From the kitchen, some familiar-sounding radio-friendly pop song floats through from the space. As does the sound of her singing loudly and horrendously out of tune along to it. As I round into the large, modern space she’s dancing energetically by the sink, swaying her hips from side to side as she screams out every single word. Smiling at the sight, I cross to the large breakfast bar and dump my oversized tote bag down on it, the noise of which still doesn’t gain her attention. Her light blonde hair is piled high on her head, and her slim body is dark with the tan of a week in the Venetian sun. Her voice, unfortunately, is just as bad as it’s always been.
Robyn is perfect in almost every way, but her singing voice is beyond awful. Honestly, I’ve always thought that if Robyn were able to sing it would really just be unfair on the rest of us. Not that she’s ever let this fact bother her—she still sings at the top of her lungs at every opportunity.
Still dancing, she spins round, freezing momentarily when she spots me leaning over the island counter smiling her.
“Please carry on, Mrs. Holmes. I was enjoying that.” I wave my hand in a gesture for her to go on.
She bursts into a fit of laughter before gliding around the kitchen toward me. “Hey, you!” She grins, pulling me into a fragrant hug. “You look amazing! Jake’s obviously been looking after you.”
“Something like that.” I nod, blushing slightly.
“You look like you’ve caught some sun too.” She brushes a stray lock of hair away from my face before hopping backward to the sink. She lifts the small white remote control and waves it above her head a few times until the music drops in volume to a low murmur. “You looked awful last week, babe. I was worried about you.”
“Wow, thanks, Rob. Can’t wait to see the wedding photos in that case.”
She waves a hand. “Oh, you know what I mean. You looked stunning because you always look stunning—you’re the only person I know who can pull off miserable and still look beautiful—but you looked so…I don’t know, barely-there. Depressed and shit.”
“Yeah, well, I was depressed and shit.”
She nods. “I know, I know. Well, you look a million times better. Take it he’s been behaving then?”
“Yes, he has, very much so.” I smile. “Sooooo, how was Venice?”
“Ugh, amazing. Beautiful. Serenely picturesque. You’d love it, Al—architecture was fabulous, the hotel was stunning. We got upgraded to the honeymoon suite, which was just as well because I’d have killed him otherwise for not booking it in the first place. Considering it was the only thing I asked him to do. But we had a view of the Grand Canal from our room and this snug little balcony we’d drink champagne on every night. I don’t know why they say Paris is this romantic paradise because personally I think Venice is a million times more beautiful—and you know Italians are just far nicer people than the French,” she says definitively. I’ve never had any issues with the French, but Robyn isn’t a fan. “I’ve got so many photos. I can’t wait to bore you with them. But you and Jake should try to go at some point—you’d both adore it.”
A holiday with Jake. That’s right—we were going to arrange something, weren’t we? “That would be really lovely, actually.” I nod. “Can’t wait to see the photos now! Oh, and you look great too, by the way. Lots of romantic honeymoon sex then? Really hoping you’re about to bash the ‘married couples don’t have sex’ myth for me.”
“Why? Thinking about getting married?” She raises her eyebrows.
“Very funny…” I smile sardonically. Though I am carrying his baby and I’ve asked him to move in, so it’s not that funny. I reach across to lift one of the carrot sticks she has in a bowl next to the sink and shove it in my mouth before I say anything more.
“Oh my god, guess what Dan said the other night!” she exclaims. “He wants to try for a baby. I mean, Dan. My Daniel, the least paternal guy I know—anyone knows—wants us to have a baby.”
My mouth drops open in surprise, and at the odd synchronicity. “Wow…and how do you feel about that? What did you say?”
“I think I just laughed.” She lifts a carrot stick and pops half into her mouth, waggling the other half as she talks. “It was because we saw this adorable family in the hotel. Dad, mum, and two kids. They were about our age, the mum and dad,” she clarifies. “Kids were utterly gorgeous—two girls, blonde curls, angels really. The dad was this good-looking trendy guy, and the mum was just stunning. Sort of stylish, arty type, Mother Earth personified. I swear he just went all broody on me. ‘I could see us like that, Rob’, he said.” She lowers the tone of her voice a few octaves to imitate Dan. “‘I think we’d be really good at it. We could still do stuff.’ Honestly, Al, it was the weirdest thing. But I’m sure it will pass. I’m not ready to have kids. Bloody hell, I’d have to redecorate for a start.” As she thinks about this her face begins to light up, and I know it’s because she loves decorating.
“Well, I think it’s adorable that he said it. Dan wants to be a dad. God, come on, that’s so cute! Daddy Daniel. Aww,” I jest.
Rob rolls her eyes. “Yeah, adorable. He would be such a DILF, though, wouldn’t he?” She laughs. “Speaking of which, have you met Jake’s little boy yet? Is he gorgeous? I bet he’s gorgeous.”
“Actually, no, but I’m meeting him today. I’m going to meet them in the park after this. I’ve got a picnic in the car.”
Rob squeals before making an exaggerated “aww” noise. “A picnic! Oh my god, now that’s cute! Can’t wait to hear all about it.” She smiles wide as she moves toward the fridge. “Let’s just hope the wicked witch of an ex hasn’t poisoned his tiny little mind against you.” She’s laughing only because she has no idea it’s one of my very real fears. I’ve reasoned though that whatever damage Vicky has done, Jake will have undone it, balancing it all out nicely.
“Thanks, babe.” I shudder.