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I swallow and mutter, “Better to be safe than sorry.”
He gathers the cutlery, chuckling softly. “And even if I did,” he continues, “I’ve been told that my bites are quite…agreeable.”
“Just go and set the table,” I say, trying not to look directly at him. He has this presence that always seems to surround me, like he’s ten people instead of one.
I watch as he gives me a knowing smile and then saunters outside with the cutlery and plates. Once all the salad is ready, I run upstairs to check my blood sugar and take my insulin. When I come back down, I carry the salad bowls over to the fancy wooden gazebo where Robert is sitting, tapping away on his phone.
Sasha carries over a tray with the burgers, and we all dig in. I can only manage one, but the twins both eat two each. We put the leftovers in the fridge, and then Sasha and I grab a big blanket to lie on the grass and soak up a few rays, our bellies full to the brim.
Slipping off my flats, I lie down on the soft blanket, stretch out my legs, and close my eyes. Sasha does the same while slipping on a pair of sunglasses. I’ve got typically pale Irish skin, so, unlike the twins, I burn rather than tan. It’s a good thing I put on my factor 50 this morning before I went to the shops.
Robert’s still sitting in the gazebo, having what appears to be a heated business discussion over the phone. That’s what I’d hate about being in his line of work — you have to always be “on,” as they say. There’s no downtime, not really. Sasha’s job is the same; she could be called in to work at any time of the day. Her phone is frequently abuzz with people calling her about possible stories.
I hear Robert finish up with his phone call and I haven’t even opened my eyes, yet I can sense him getting closer. Then I hear him sit down on the other end of the blanket by our feet. I squint one eye open to find him lying down and soaking up the sun just like we are.
“Trouble with a client?” Sasha asks him.
He keeps his eyes shut as he answers her, “Nothing too big. It’s all sorted now. I’m sick of that cunt Jimmy calling me on a Sunday. I told him I don’t work on weekends, but he always seems to have some emergency that needs sorting. The man is no better than a simpleton.”
I’m guessing Jimmy is another employee at Alan’s agency. I don’t envy him having to work alongside Robert, as he’s not exactly the patient sort.
Sasha laughs and leans up on her elbows to look down at Robert. “If that’s the case, then you can tell Jimmy I said he’s awesome. I admire anyone who can rub you up the wrong way like that.”
Robert taps me on the ankle. “See how she bullies me. First Kara, and now my own sister. Why do women take such enjoyment in my misery?” His tone is playful, one end of his mouth tilted up.
I don’t say anything, too caught up in how he touches me so familiarly.
“Well, I can’t speak for Kara,” says Sash. “But I can tell you that you deserve all the grief Jimmy gives you, since you go out of your way to be trouble for everyone else.”
Robert smiles happily, as though he takes what Sasha said as a compliment. “Well, now, that’s just not true.”
Sasha snorts in disagreement and lies back down on the blanket.
“Speaking of Jimmy,” Robert goes on, “do you remember meeting him at Dad’s Christmas party last year?”
“Was he the bald one or the fat one?”
“Bald as a plum.”
“Yeah, I remember. He was the spitting image of Ross Kemp.”
Robert chuckles. “In that case, have you ever found Ross Kemp attractive?”
“God, no,” Sasha answers with a shudder.
“I thought not. That doesn’t bode well for poor Jimmy. When I mentioned to him I was staying with my sister for a couple of days, the man almost fell out of his chair with excitement.”
Sasha gives Robert a look and sighs. “Brother, please get to the point.”
“How do you know he almost fell out of his chair if he was on the phone?” I ask.
Robert glances at me in amusement. “I have impeccable hearing. Anyway, poor bald as a plum Jimmy managed to contain his erection long enough to ask me if you were free next weekend and if he could perchance have your number.”
“You can tell him I’ll be very busy and that no, he cannot perchance have my number. And please, no more talk of erections. I just ate.”
He touches my ankle again. “Tell her, Lana, don’t all women like a nice big erection for dessert?”
I can’t help laughing. “Um, not that I know of.”
The problem with Robert is that he can be so utterly funny and charming at times that I almost forget his past treatment of me.
Sasha takes off her sunglasses and flings them at his head. “Ow, that hurt,” he whines.
“Shut it now, Rob. We’re trying to relax here.”
“Fine, fine,” he says, tossing the sunglasses back at Sasha. “I’ll be as silent as…someone who’s taken a vow of silence.”
I close my eyes and soak up the heat, trying not to think about how Robert is lying perpendicular to my body at the other end of the blanket, his head resting just by my feet. Half an hour goes by, and I can tell Sasha’s dozed off because she’s breathing too deeply to be awake. I think I feel the hem of my dress move, but it must have been an insect or a strong breeze, because when I open my eyes there’s nothing there. I feel it another time, but again when I open my eyes there’s nothing.
The third time it happens I get irritated, and my eyes snap open to find that Robert has lifted the end of my dress ever so slightly and is looking right up it. I stifle my scream, not wanting to disturb Sasha, and sit up immediately, tucking my legs beneath me.
