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“What are you? Twelve?” Deakin scoffs from where he’s sitting at the table. “Showing off for your girl?”
Roo holds the knife out to Deakin. “You want to try?” he says.
“Deaks, I’m not blue-lighting you to the hospital with a macerated hand because you are trying to prove yourself to my husband,” Cara says, and Noah puts his hands out in front of him.
“I know when I’m beaten,” he laughs.
The oven beeps and Roo goes to it, transferring food from the oven to their plates. It’s a bizarre mix: spinach and ricotta cannelloni in a tomato sauce, perfect slices of beef Wellington, dauphinoise potatoes—all leftovers from the restaurant. It’s one advantage to having a husband working strange hours as head chef—meals you would normally pay twenty, thirty pounds for, served up in your own home.
They all eat. Deakin seems ravenous, and Cara wonders when he would usually cook for himself, if ever. Roo tells them about his latest sous chef, a delicate French girl, reduced to tears within the first hour.
“She should come to work with us for a day, then she’d have something to cry about,” Noah says with his mouth full.
Roo looks at Cara. “I saw you on the news.” He pauses. “It’s a serial killer?”
Cara nods slowly. She takes a sip from the glass of wine in front of her. “It’s looking that way. Nate worked out the pattern.”
“How is he? I should have said hello while I was there.”
“Sunshine and light, as always,” Noah says sarcastically.
Cara frowns at him. “He’s okay. Back with us, for the time being anyway. I’d rather have him getting under my feet at the station than moldering away in that basement.”
Cara looks up as she hears a little voice shout from upstairs. Roo pushes his plate to one side.
“I’ll go,” he says. “You’re still eating.”
Noah watches him leave, then glances at Cara. She catches his eye.
“What?” she asks.
Noah looks down at his dinner and has another mouthful. “Has Lauren got a boyfriend?” he asks at last.
Cara frowns. “I don’t think so, no. Why? Are you interested?” She isn’t sure what Noah is getting at.
Noah takes a swig from his beer. “She just seems a little …” He pauses. “Overfamiliar with Roo.”
“They’ve known each other a long time.”
“I know, it’s just …” He scowls. “It’s nothing.”
“Spit it out, Deaks.”
“When they went out to the car, I saw her put her hand on his arm. And it was there, I don’t know, a bit too long. And when she saw me watching, she removed it.”
Cara shakes her head. “It’s nothing, Noah. I know what you’re doing. Just because we see bad shit every day doesn’t mean everyone’s at it. There’s no more going on between Roo and Lauren than there is between you and me.”
Noah stops and looks at her. He holds her gaze just that little bit too long, and she looks away.
“You’re right. Forget I mentioned it,” he says at last.
They finish their dinner in silence. Roo comes back downstairs and sits at the table.
“Everything okay?” he asks, looking between the two of them, puzzled.
Cara forces a smile. “Of course.”
Noah takes a final swig from his bottle of beer. He picks up their plates and carries them to the sink; Cara follows him with the other dishes.
