Chapter Nineteen

When Strike returns to his apartment, Robin is cooking something that smells delicious and asks, "How did it go?"

Deadpan, Strike shrugs and lies, "He told me to fuck off."

He sees the moment when she believes him, and the moment she doesn't. "He did not."

Smiling, Strike says, "No, but he wanted to. I think he'll pursue it. He's just curious enough to follow through. If not, I suspect he's ambitious enough. And I'm certain he'll do his best to keep our names out of it."

"I'm glad. I don't like giving up, but someone else can play St. George this time. I'll settle for being one of the loyal retainers who never gets mentioned."

Strike nods his agreement, and peers in the pot, asking, "What are we having?"

"Goulash with pasta."

He trusts her, but asks, "And that's fat-free?"

"Close to it, if you use lean beef and don't add oil. And it's nearly ready."

Strike kisses her cheek on the way to fetching plates and cutlery. And they're soon seated at his tiny dining table, having divided the goulash unevenly but fairly. When they eat together like this, they've fallen into the habit of Robin serving herself first, with Strike taking whatever is left, and later hoovering up anything she can't finish. His mouth is watering by the time he takes a bite. And then has to endure Robin's soft laughter at the speed with which he takes the second and third. There are worse fates.

When he pauses for breath, it's to ask, "Why do you feel so guilty about Murphy? After all, you didn't cheat on him, and you dumped him face-to-face."

Robin doesn't contradict him, and doesn't immediately answer, or meet his gaze when she eventually confesses, "Because I said that I loved him when I didn't. Not like he meant it."

Strike can't quite keep the delight from his voice when he guesses, "Because you loved me instead."

With an indulgent smile, Robin says, "Basically, though I was still in denial about how much."

They eat in silence for a while, and then Strike asks, "Do you know why you lied to him?"

Robin shrugs, and explains, "It was more 'I love you too'. I did the same thing with Matt towards the end."

"Is that...do you think it has anything to do with feeling unsafe around men? I don't mean you feared Matt or_"

Robin nods, and says, "I know what you mean. That occurred to me, but I'm still not sure. It was something about keeping the peace, but why I feel the need to... Anyway, that's why I feel bad for Ryan. He had a right to expect something from me that I never really intended to deliver."

Strike disagrees with the last, but chooses to keep that to himself, instead asking, "And that's why do don't always say it back to me?"

Robin finally smiles, and reveals, "Exactly. I promised myself that I'd never again say it unless I was really feeling it."

"And are you feeling it right now?"

He can see only love shining from her eyes, and she says, "Not quite. Maybe later."

"If I do the washing up?"

Managing to almost curb her smile, Robin shrugs and says, "It couldn't hurt."

But Robin still hasn't said it by the time they must leave for their respective shifts. Tonight it works out that Strike can give Robin a lift. On the way, she comments, "You know, I've never felt unsafe with you."

He throws her a quick smile, saying, "Good."

Robin smiles, and explains, "No, I mean, I've never felt unsafe with you; not when we're alone, or you're drunk, not even when we slept in the same bed. Which makes you practically unique among all the single—often not single—heterosexual men I've ever encountered. I genuinely thought, for the longest time, that you didn't find me at all attractive."

Strike barks a loud laugh, and confesses, "Rob, I've always found you attractive, from that very first day."

A moment of loud silence is followed by an incredulous, "But not really."

He laughs again, saying, "Yes, really. I've never been so glad to see an engagement ring on a woman's finger."

"Oh. Then it's all the more amazing that I never got a creepy vibe off you."

He flashes a grin at her, and says, "That wasn't an accident. And, you're welcome." After a moment, he asks, "Not Nick?"

"Oh, sorry. No, not Nick. He's a good one."

"Yeah, he is. What about Matthew? I thought...that day you left him, and I rang you about work. I nearly dropped everything to go and rescue you."

"Yeah, he was...well, he was desperate. I had to remind myself that I fought off the Shacklewell Ripper."

Strike breathes a laugh, and says, "Yeah, I had exactly that thought. I figured you could handle one desperate accountant, if he crossed that line." They're again quiet for several seconds, Strike's attention on London traffic, and then he asks, "Murphy?"

"Once. When I dumped him between our appetisers and main course, on the eve of a romantic weekend away."

Deciding not to mention the engagement ring, because it would only make her feel even worse, Strike says, "Yeah, that'd push most men over the edge. He didn't actually try anything though?"

"Grabbed my arm is all, unfortunately on the scar. It doesn't hurt anymore, but...is your leg like that?"

"A horrible combination of overstimulation and numbness?"

"Yeah. Anyway, I kind of recoiled in revulsion, but from the sensation, not from him. He looked dangerous for a moment there, so I bolted, and he didn't follow me."

"You know that was only a little over two weeks ago?"

"It can't be." After a moment, Robin realises, "It is." And then she laughs, commenting, "Interesting couple of weeks."

"Well, if you'd wanted a boring life, you should've stayed married to the accountant."

"True. I'm ready to say it now."

So Strike is looking at Robin when she vows, "I love you."

His gaze already back on the road, he says, "I know."

Easily able to picture her friend's cheeky grin, Robin laughs aloud when Ilsa calls on Tuesday and greets her with, "How's the baby-making going?"

"None of your business. Actually, we're literally working days and nights this week, because one of our team is off sick, so there's not been much time for making." Only then does Robin realise that Strike has seemed even moodier than usual the past few days, and she'd been too tired to even consciously notice. "Ils, you haven't been teasing him about it?"

"No. Well, I called him Baby Daddy a couple of times, but I know him too well to harp on it."

That might have been enough. "Look, could you please not torture him? He's already made so many concessions for me, and I don't want him to feel trapped."

"Yeah, fair enough; he's a bolter with form. All right, for you, I'll back off torturing my best friend, but it'll cost you."

Expecting another invitation to dinner, Robin cheerfully asks, "What's the price?"

"One bottle of non-alcoholic Champagne."

Happiness rising like a bubble within her, Robin guesses, "They accepted your offer?"

Ilsa laughs, and says, "Wow, you sound more excited than we did. And yes, so you'd better start packing. If you're still sure?"

"If I'm sure? Ils, I never even dared dream of two bedrooms at London prices. You might not have saved my life, but definitely my sanity. My mantra this past week has been, 'Babies don't take up much room.' But I didn't really believe it."

Ilsa laughs again, saying, "Nor should you. It's unbelievable how much crap I need to pack to go anywhere now."

"But he's worth it?"

The backdrop to this entire conversation has been baby Benjamin alternatively cooing and quietly fussing. "Oh, yeah, he's worth it. You'll see."

"Right, I'm gonna go. Because, while talking on the phone is okay when I'm working, breaking down blubbering will probably attract too much attention."

Ilsa laughs, and says, "Sorry. Saturday to celebrate?"

"Saturday."

The next time Strike visits Robin's apartment, it's to find her assembling packing boxes from a flat stack of them on her bedroom floor. And he asks, "Already?"

Eyes shining, Robin says, "Well, it's another month or two before I can move in, but I want to make a start. Now we're letting someone else slay the dragon, I shockingly have some spare time, but I know that won't last. Oh, and we're on for Saturday again, if nothing comes up at work. Can you give me a hand with these? Casserole in the oven, and I've set the timer."

Feeling as if he's trying to go backwards on a fast-moving escalator, Strike obliges, "Uh, sure." At a glance, he can tell, "You're got going to fill all these."

Robin smiles, and says, "No, but they came in a pack of ten."

"Could I take the spares? You've seen my place. I'll only need a few."

Robin simply stares at him for a few seconds, and then asks, "For what?"

Bewildered, Strike says, "For the move." When she merely gapes at him, he clarifies, "For moving in with you."

Robin claps a hand over her mouth, and soon starts trembling. He's reaching to comfort her, when he realises that she's silently laughing. Then gaining some semblance of control, she tenderly frames his face with her hands before asking, "Strike, think back. When did I ask you to move in with me?"

Replaying all the conversations since her babbling stream of consciousness on Saturday night, he eventually realises, "You were literally just asking if I wanted to pay part of the rent, given that our baby will live there?"

She kisses him and releases him, saying, "There you go." And then she laughs again, asking, "Is this what Shanker was talking about? Last time we spoke, he said you were getting 'wobbly', but that he set you straight on a few things."

Rethinking every thought he's had about Robin in the past few days, Strike says, "Yeah, he did. So...you don't want to live with me?"

"Only if it's what you want. I think we'd do fine. We mostly get along. When we don't, we forgive and learn from it. You're neat and clean, you cook, and always do at least your share of any chores. And it would be nice not needing a spreadsheet to arrange time for sex. But I would never assume or pressure you into it. I'm pretty sure this is covered under our No Traps, No Fixing clause."

Still in shock, Strike manages a weak laugh before saying, "Right." And then he kind of sinks down to sit on her bed, hunched over in dismay, muttering, "Well, fuck, this is a turn up for the books."

Robin giggles, and reveals, "Dad says that." When Strike remains silent and motionless, Robin stands before him, and runs her fingers through his hair, asking, "What's going on inside here?"

He rests his head against her, and reveals, "Quite a bit of confusion, several layers of self-recrimination, a soupçon of shame, and a dawning realisation that...that perhaps I instinctively struggled against something I maybe don't find too terrifying."

Robin laughs again, saying, "Gee, thanks."

He finally looks up at her, to say, "Sorry. But I've only ever lived with one girlfriend, and you saw how that ended; with me battered, bloody and sleeping in my office."

Robing strokes his eyebrow—that still bears a tiny scar—as if seeing again the cut and bruise he'd been sporting that day, and asks, "Charlotte did that to you?"

He shrugs, and reiterates, "She wasn't well."

"But you never hit her."

Pleased that it's not a question, Strike says only, "No." When it appears that Robin is now the one lost in thought, Strike muses, "Do you know, before you, I think there was only ever one woman in my entire life who never tried to change me."

Robin's brow puckers in the way that makes him want to kiss her, and then she eventually asks, "Your mother?"

Thrilled but unsurprised that she worked it out, Strike nods and explains, "She didn't always understand me, was absolutely perplexed by my drive for an education, would have been equally mystified by my passion to achieve in the military. But she wouldn't have tried to talk me out of it."

Robin smiles and says, "Wish I could have met her."

"Yeah, me too. She'd love you; kindred spirits." And Robin again looks confused, no doubt wondering what she has in common with a pot-smoking, itinerant Super Groupie who ricocheted through life, letting astrology and tarot cards determine her chaotic path. Strike stands and embraces Robin, to explain, "Leda Strike's special gift was to see the good in people."

Robin blushes, and glances at his chest, to ask, "I do that?"

Strike holds her to him, and says, "Oh, yes. You even found it in me."

Robin graces him with a blissful smile, and insists, "That didn't take much detecting on my part. You're basically good." Reaching up to again caress that tiny scar, she adds, "Just a little battered."

When no words form in his grateful head, Strike instead expresses himself with a long, tender kiss. And then he says, "I've got a lease until June, so I'll keep my place for now. But, okay."

Robin's eyes widen in surprise, and she asks, "You want to live together?"

Becoming more certain every second, Strike says, "Assuming that works for you?"

Robin considers for only a moment, and hedges, "On one condition." She answers his raised eyebrow with, "No Tom Waits, unless you're using headphones."

He laughs, choosing not to reveal that Robin apparently has something in common with Charlotte after all, and accepts, "Deal."

They're still kissing when the oven timer starts beeping.