Page 71 of It's a Date (Again)

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Robbie says.

My shoulders jump, and my head whips in the direction of his voice. He’s stretched out on the couch with a book in hand. The lamp set on the side table provides ample light for his reading.

“Jeez, you scared me, Robbie.”

“Sorry,” he says, closing the book. He sets it on the coffee table and gets to his feet, stretching his arms over his head.

I pull off my jacket and hang it up on the coatrack. “What are you still doing up?”

“Waiting for you.”

I squint. “Why?”

“Just wanted to make sure you got home okay. I thought you’d be home hours ago. But I guess we have different definitions ofsoon.” He walks into the kitchen and pours a glass of water.

“I guess we do.”

He slides the glass to me. “Must have been a good date then?”

“It was,” I say, sipping the water.

Robbie leans against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.” There’s no enthusiasm in his voice, so I doubt he actually feels that way. I think he’s mad at me for having to wait up, but he didn’t need to.

I give him a peculiar look but quickly relax my face before he notices. His feelings flip every day. Yesterday, he was flirting-ish with me and telling me he was wrong about our original pact being silly. Granted, he was drunk, but still. He also said I should end it with Tyler, but now he’s glad to hear my date with Tyler went well. Pick a lane, Robbie. My mind goes back to what Debbie said about him. He’s confused and scared he’ll lose me, so I deliver a sympathetic look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” I contort my face into a neutral position, trying to appear casual.

Robbie cocks his head. “Like you feel sorry for me.”

“I do not feel sorry for you.”

“You’re looking at me like you do.”

“Robbie, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His shoulders drop, and his gaze falls to his feet. It takes a few moments before he lifts his chin and stares back at me. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” I drink the rest of my water and place the glass in the dishwasher.

“No, there is.” He takes a step toward me. “I shouldn’t have gotten drunk or grilled Tyler. I know this whole situation is hard enough on you without me adding to it. So I am sorry.”

“Did you mean it?” I ask, studying his face.

“Mean what?”

“What you said last night?”

“I don’t remember what I said.” He shrugs and briefly breaks eye contact. “So probably not.”

I consider reminding him and asking how he feels about our marriage/relationship pact or if he had really forgotten it, but instead I leave it in the past just where he wants it. Debbie’s words spring to the front of my mind.Even if Robbie was flirting, if something was ever going to happen between you two, it would have already.

“I’m going to bed,” I finally land on.

He delivers a tight smile. “Good night, Peyton.”

“Night, Robbie,” I say as I turn on my heel and head down the hallway. He lets out a heavy sigh, stopping me in my tracks. I pause to listen. He whispers something to himself but I can’t make it out. My phone vibrates. I slide it from my pocket and on the screen is a text from Tyler, reminding me of where my focus and attention needs to be. I type out a reply and walk toward my bedroom, leaving Robbie alone in the kitchen.

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