Page 59 of Fish Out of Water

“It’s hard to avoid anyone for too long in this place.”

“True enough. But you’re getting along better, aren’t you?”

Jake shrugged.

“Hm, you know what? I should invite him over for dinner tonight. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Jake mulled over that idea for a moment, weighing the pros and cons.

Pro: A dinner party was the most excitement he was going to get for a while.

Con: He could already feel his heart hammering in his chest at the mere idea of being next to Robbie.

Pro: He would get to see Robbie.

Con: He would have to see Robbie.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.

“Why not?” Isabel picked up her phone. “I’m going to text him right now and ask if he’s free. We could all use a nice little get-together.”

Jake ran his fingers along the rim of his cup. It was warm from the coffee, and there was a damp spot where he’d sipped from it seconds earlier. “He might already be busy,” he said, leaning across the table as he tried to see what Isabel was typing. “He has a pretty involved social life.”

Isabel glanced up. “Does he? He always seems quite lonely to me.”

Jake pushed his chair back. “Yeah, I guess. Uh, excuse me for a minute, Aunt Isabel. I’ll be right back.”

Isabel turned her attention back to her phone. “Of course, Jakey. Take your time.”

Jake darted into his room and unplugged his phone from the charger by his bed. He opened his and Robbie’s text thread, his thumbs flying across the little digital keyboard.

Don’t accept Isabel’s dinner invite.

He bit down on his lower lip and added:

Please.

That would be enough to get to him, Jake was sure of it.

He waited for Robbie to text him back, but the message sat unread. It sat, and sat, and sat, until Isabel was making dinner for three, and he knew what Robbie’s response had been.

“He’s coming tonight, isn’t he?” he said, hoping his casualness sounded authentic.

“Yes,” Isabel replied, “and he sounded quite happy in his reply. I think he’s really looking forward to this. I should ask him to eat here more often. He never got dinners like that when he was a kid.”

Jake sat down in one of the dining chairs. “What do you mean?”

“His parents didn’t do family dinners.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. What, did they have Susan cook for them?”

“Susan?” Isabel cocked her head, and Jake remembered that he hadn’t told her about his visit to the Eaton House.

Too late now.

“Susan doesn’t cook, but they have a private chef. But that’s not really the same, is it?”

“No, it’s not. Robbie likes to cook, though.”