Page 78 of The Love Bandits

I might have been okay with him thinking cat-having, period-embracing Elaine was crazy, but I don’t like the thought of him thinkingI’mcrazy.

Then again, he stood by my side while I destroyed my ex-fiancé’s bat and damaged the car I’d stolen from my parents. If that didn’t put him off, then maybe nothing would.

Claire, Declan, and Rosie are hovering by the front door in the living room. There’s a big smile on Claire’s face, and Declan is awkwardly holding an enormous, foil-wrapped tray of what smells like lasagna. Rosie has a salad in a glass bowl, and Claire, thank the lord, is double fisting two bottles of red wine. “We brought dinner!” she announces unnecessarily.

“You really shouldn’t have,” I say sunnily, but I’m not actually upset. We don’t have to cook now.

And we won’t be alone together yet.

“I’m going to go put this down,” says Declan, but even though he’s spent plenty of time in this house, he waits for my nod to do it. He’s at least six foot four and broad, but he’s not the kind of guy who’d impose on other people. So coming over to dinner uninvited—even though they’ve brought the food—would be well beyond his comfort zone. Still, he’s already proven he’d do anything for Claire.

It’s yet more proof that in addition to men like Peter, who cheated on his pregnant wife, there are also good men. Faithful, devoted men.

I glance at Jake, thinking about last night. About how he’s put the ball in my court, again and again. About how he’s spent all day helping me, and heenjoyedit.

“Hi,” Rosie tells him brightly, playing with the purple streak in her hair. She looks both tired and hyped up—like she hasn’t been sleeping, but it hasn’t put a damper on her personality. “We saw each other at the engagement party. Hope you’re hungrier tonight than you were then.”

He smiles at me before glancing back at her. “That depends. Did you tamper with the food?”

“Why does everyone always assume people are tampering with other people’s food?” Claire says, shaking her head. “Am I the only one who takes food safety seriously?”

Declan returns from dropping off the lasagna and ignores the salad in Rosie’s outstretched hands, instead taking the wine from Claire. “You’re the one who takes it the most seriously,” he says, kissing her forehead. Then he nods to Jake and says, “Hi, Jake, I’m Declan. My sister Rosie is the one who might or might not have spat on your food, and Claire is my beautiful girlfriend.”

Rosie laughs at him, one hand on her hip, the other barely managing the salad. But Jake sees the writing on the wall, and he relieves her of it before it falls to the wooden floor to get investigated—and then inevitably rejected—by Professor X.

“What?” Declan asks. “Why are you laughing? That was a perfectly reasonable thing to say.”

“It’s just…girlfriend. It makes it sound like you’re both twelve, and you spend all day holding each other’s sweaty hands.”

“Excuse you,” Claire says. “Your brother never has sweaty hands, and I’m perfectly content to be known as his sweaty-handed girlfriend.” She puts her arm around him but keeps her gaze fixed on Rosie. “I know what you’re doing, by the way. You’re trying to make us happy you’re moving out.”

“You’re taking the apartment?” I ask, surprised but not. Yes, Joy may be in the octogenarian set, but I actually think Rosie will fit right into that building. I can see her and Joy making tea together. Maybe we can convince them to make some sort of empowering tea for our clients.

“I’m moving this week,” Rosie says, glancing at Jake with open curiosity. “Into your old building. So I guess I have you to thank for that. I went with Lainey the other day when she went to grab your stuff.”

“You did?” he says, his expression closing down, but it’s a millisecond too late. I saw the look of betrayal that crossed his face.

Maybe Rosie saw it too, because she immediately follows up by saying, “She wouldn’t let me look at any of it.” Jake gives me a grateful look; she rolls her eyes. “For future reference, she’s probably the least fun person to bring along on a break-in.”

“You sure about that?” he says, his eyes dancing as he starts to lead the way down the hall toward the kitchen as if he lives here. I guess, for the next week and a half, that he does. “Because I have marks on my back from where she tackled me on Saturday.”

“I was trying to prevent a robbery,” I insist.

I give his back a shove, and he dramatically turns around, salad raised in his hands. “There she goes again. Honest to God, Lainey, I wasn’t trying to take off with the salad, but if you want it, I’ll give it to you.”

I laugh and shake my head. “You’re not going to get out of being a packhorse that easily. Declan already did the hard work.”

“Caught me,” he says, and winks. Then he carries the salad off in the direction of the kitchen, Declan close behind him, and I fall back with Claire and Rosie.

Claire gives methe look.“I haven’t been holding out on you,” I say as we slow down, then stop, no longer making any pretense of following them. “Much.”

“Was he there when you beat the shit out of your car last night?” she asks in a pointed undertone.

I glance at Rosie, who doesn’t pretend to even consider joining her brother in the kitchen.

Then again, she’s our friend too, and maybe there’s no point in being circumspect.

“Yes, as it happens. He helped me with your pink umbrella.”

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