"Third date." Robin nodded once, the motion sharp and decisive. "Yeah. Sure. We should have one of those."
"Sunday still good?"
Sunday. She'd be back by Sunday. Leave Santa Barbara Thursday, head to Montauk Friday night, attend the exhibition on Saturday, which would be completely professional and not at all awkward. She didn't even have to talk to Greg if she didn't want to; only circulate around the perimeter, get a look at the pictures. Slip out early, straight back to the city. She'd be ready by Sunday morning, scent of cigarette smoke washed out of her hair, taste of champagne rinsed out of her mouth. She'd even bathe Alberta twice, if she had to, to get all the sand out of her fur. "Sunday's great."
"Awesome. That solves the group outing, but we still have a date-date to arrange. If you're back by Saturday night, we can do something then."
Robin twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "Um, Saturday. Yeah, I may have some work stuff to do. It might go late."
Barney's mouth set into a straight line. "Work stuff. Right." His voice trailed into a ragged, weary sigh. "I remember work stuff. Are you going to be on air? I'll watch. Ellie, too, even if it's after bedtime."
"Um, no." Unless there was media. She hadn't thought about media. There could be media. Greg knew people. Not like photography exhibits were hot news, but if the model for the whole collection was WWN's lead correspondent, her name would pop up in tags somewhere. "I mean, probably not. I have to go over some stuff," she rolled the collar of her blouse between her fingers. Barney was right. White cotton after six was flat out wrong. Unless it was black tie, and the white cotton in question was a tuxedo shirt. That would be okay. "Um, with some people. News people. Looking over news stuff. Be a big relief to spend Sunday with you and Ellie.
"Still up for another crack with the whole Ellie thing? No strangers, no cameras. just fam- uh, just us?"
"I'd like that."
"Awesome. Where do you want to do it?" He coughed into his fist. "Have Ellie time, I mean. Our place?"
Our place. The words struck like a knife to Robin's gut. Exclusive we in that one. Barney and Ellie's home, not Barney and Robin's. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that." Not ready to walk into the apartment she left. Not ready to see all the places where her stuff wasn't. Not ready to see what he'd put in its place. Probably stuff for Ellie, soft toys and bottle warmers, state of the art baby technology he could control with a tap of his phone.
"What's so funny?"
Crap, she hadn't actually said any of that, had she? She did a quick mental review. Nope, she did not remember speaking. Which didn't mean that she hadn't. "Nothing's funny."
"Do you forget who you're lying to here? Something's funny. You have your lips pressed together but the corners of your mouth are all," he sketched the expression in the air with one finger. "You're doing that. If my fly is open, just reach down and—"
"I am not zipping your pants in public."
"I was going to say pet Alberta, but if you're offering…" he raised one brow."
Warmth fluttered in the pit of her stomach. "I'm not offering." Right now. "I am curious, though, to see what Barney Stinson's baby's room looks like. Gray walls, those are a given. Little gray crib, little suit mobiles hanging from the ceiling so she can learn all her designers right from the start. A is for Armani, right? There's probably a stuffed storm trooper in the corner, to go with her wookie pajamas. Gray flannel cover on the changing table." She'd have to stop soon. This could, theoretically, be worse than actually seeing the room herself.
Barney's mouth twitched at the corners. "Ellie's crib is white, thank you. James and Tom had everything from when they were going to -" he swiped one hand across his mouth. "From when Sadie was little, so they brought all that stuff over. I wasn't much good for that kind of thing right then. My mom picked out some other stuff. Even Cheryl helped. Then Lily and Tracy got in on the whole deal, and by then," he scratched behind one ear, "you can fill in the rest."
She could. "It's pink, isn't it?"
"So pink." Laugh lines fanned out from his mouth and eyes. She could trace those lines, if they were alone. With her fingers. With her mouth. Make him stand there and study him. Learn him again, everything that was the same since the last time they'd been together, and everything that was different. All of it. Every plane, every angle. Every inch of flesh, from eyes to mouth to chin, down his neck to the pulse at his throat, the open button of his collar. Below that, once she got her hands on the buttons. "Come over on Sunday, and see for yourself?" One brow lifted, remained lifted, waiting for her answer.
Robin's pulse raced. Barney in the bar had been hard enough. Night air tingled cool along the bare skin of her arms. Barney in new places, she could take. Barney in public, that was fine. Barney in MacLaren's took pretty much about what she had, without Alberta, but bringing Alberta would have brought up questions she wasn't ready to answer at Ted's wedding. Barney, in the home they'd shared together, with the baby she couldn't give him? Hard no on that one. Not for the first time alone. Except for now. She was alone with them now,if she didn't count the basketball guys. Should she count the basketball guys? Maybe they counted for half. No basketball guys in Barney's apartment, not even if she wanted them there. Because that was the whole point, wasn't it? This next time would be just them. Just family. "How about my place?"
The brow lowered. "Your place?"
"It's puppy proofed." There, that was reason enough. Cool, logical, rational reason. He couldn't argue with that. "Puppies are baby dogs. It's almost the same thing. Outlets covered. No breakables left out for little snouts," she caught herself there. "Uh, hands. Did a whole segment on puppy proofing for Super Mutts. It's right on the website."
"I'll watch it." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I wouldn't mind seeing Abdul again, actually. Does he work weekends?"
"Sometimes." Barney. In her apartment. Barney and Ellie in her apartment. Where she lived. Where she slept. Where she was supposed to make a fresh start, no connections to past mistakes. Where he'd never been. Her throat constricted. She wasn't ready for Barney in her space, either. Marshall and Lily's place, maybe, but there wouldn't be any privacy there. Lily would want to record everything. Marshall would want to make everything okay. Marvin and Daisy and Rose would be there, playing with toys, racing around, glimpses of the ages Ellie would be one day. Definitely not ready for that. Ted and Tracy's house would work, if Clint and Virginia weren't there, with Penny and Luke. Crap. Same problem with the kids, only this time, she'd have the added benefit of Clint's musical accompaniment. Double crap. It had to be her place. "Is around ten good?"
"Ten's awesome. I'll bring bagels." A pause, then, "For you and me, I mean." He gestured between the two of them. "We would eat the bagels. Ellie is strictly BYOB. Because she eats out of a bottle."
"Baby bottle. That's funny." Robin winced at the sound of her own laughter, too loud, too high. "You're funny. Ellie drinks out of a baby bottle because she's a baby. You have to bring her bottle. Guess that makes it BHOB, because you're the one bringing the bottle, but she's the one-" Crap, the basketball players were staring at them again. "You guys here to play ball or see a show? What, Broadway sold out?" This isn't a show. It's my life. She glowered and waved them back to their game, before she turned back to Barney with a smile she hoped looked natural."Sounds perfect." She'd have the home court advantage at her place. Abdul could be a freaking wall; if she told him she didn't want to see anybody, they had less than zero chance of getting anywhere near the elevator. Her apartment would remain a Greg-free zone. If things got awkward, she could say she had to take Alberta out. That would buy her some time. She could do this. Probably. "Ten it is."
The shape of a small fist rippled under the gray fabric of the baby sling. "Awesome. Now all we have to do is figure out a date for the two of us. We could Skype while you're in Santa Barbara, figure things out."
"Skype. Sure. Skype is great. We can," she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "We can talk. Figure out the details." Like they used to. Like they'd stopped doing. She couldn't remember when that stopped, couldn't remember the first time she didn't have time. Couldn't remember the first time he forgot, or the first time one of them didn't feel like it. Couldn't remember the first time there wasn't anything to say. There had to have been something to say. If Lily and Marshall could still tell each other what they'd had for lunch, she should have been able to tell Barney she had a yogurt and some meat she has been telling herself is chicken even though she has her reservations. Or something like that. Only talking, though, no private shows, no virtual anything. Ellie would be there. Private shows and babies did not mix. They shouldn't. "I'll have Patrice shoot you my schedu-" She stopped herself there. Going through assistants, that she remembered. "I'll send you my schedule. We'll find a time." She moved to cover her yawn with the hand that still held Alberta's leash.
Barney's head tilted. "Are you sure you don't want to at least take a nap back ho-" his mouth clamped shut before he could get out the whole word. "I mean, back at my place? I still have a couple of those dog-and-people cookies, if Alberta's hungry."
"Alberta's always hungry, but I'm sure. I'll catch a cab home."
He stopped her before she could take her first step toward the exit. "No, I said I will make sure you get home, and I will." He took his phone from his pocket and tapped once on the icon for the car company. Maybe she would see Ranjit tonight after all. She craned her neck to see the information Barney keyed into the form, but his fingers moved too fast. They always did. One electronic ping and the screen went dark again. He dropped his phone back into his pocket. "The car will pick you up in front of," he paused there, rocked Ellie with a half-dip, half-sway motion that wasn't all that weird anymore, "my building, about ten minutes. Walk you there?"
"Sure." They fell into step together. His hand settled into the small of her back, one hand on her, one arm cradling Ellie. Alberta trotted along in front of them, her tail in its helicopter wag, around and around instead of back and forth. "How's Ranjit?"
"Ranjit is awesome, doing more management than driving these days. Your driver tonight will be Sanjay.
It took three more steps before the name registered. "Sanjay? Ranjit's nephew, Sanjay? He's a kid. He's what, sixteen?"
"Try twenty-three and paying back student loans." Barney's steps slowed. "Doesn't seem that long, does it?"
Robin fixed her sights on the distinct Ellie shape inside the sling, dark against the white of Barney's shirt. "Long enough, I guess. Maybe time moves differently for things like this." If there were things like this. Maybe there were. What girl didn't dream of the magical night her ex-husband and his baby walked her and her emotional support animal to their cab, with his hand on her back like there wasn't ever anything wrong between them in the first place? She leaned into his touch. That hadn't changed, either, the signal that the hand on her back should rub slow, counterclockwise, circles at the base of her spine, where the tension coiled. No way in hell was she even going to try to pinpoint the last time he'd done that. If she was going to tell him about the exhibit, this would be the time, but no way in hell was she going to chance having this be the last time he held her like this. She couldn't. Santa Barbara, Skype, Montauk, Ellie on Sunday, the two of them later; that was the way it had to be.
By the time they reached the end of Barney's block, the car already idled out front. His hand slipped from her waist. "Guess this is it, unless you need a ride to the airport."
The night breeze chilled the spot where his hand had been. "No, thanks, I'm good with that. Patrice takes care of that stuff."
"Then you'll be in good hands. Text me when you get home?" He slipped past her, to open the door. "If I don't text back, we're sleeping."
Robin scooped Alberta into her arms. "Right. Daddy sleeps when baby sleeps. You could use it." His face pinched at that, his mouth formed the start of a protest. She should have kept Greg's camera; then she could take that look with her to Santa Barbara, keep it with her in Montauk. Maybe next time. She'd take a memory with her for now; the weary set about his eyes, the way his mouth tipped up at the corners even so, the contrast of gray sling against white shirt. Rumpled blond hair and blue puppy dog eyes. DILF of the day, every day. Her heart seized. Santa Barbara, Montauk, then back here. She'd figure out the rest.
She leaned in and dropped a quick kiss on his mouth. "Night." She pulled back after that, settled herself into the seat of the town car and closed the door. The car pulled away from the curb.
She leaned back against the padded leather seat let out a long breath. Alberta's tongue laved her chin with ardent doggy kisses. The partition slid open.
"Hello, Robin."
