Page 20 of Ex in the City
‘Boys, listen, how would you like to eat dinner in front of the TV?’ Rowan asks them, ignoring every word Archie just said. ‘The grown-ups need to talk.’
The kids can’t believe their ears. Rowan usually insists on family meals at the table, without any distractions. Then again, Dylan is quite the distraction.
‘Is this a trick?’ Archie asks, one eyebrow raised suspiciously.
‘No, boys, it’s not a trick,’ I reassure them. ‘Go get comfortable, and I’ll bring your food over.’
‘And while she does that, why don’t you and I take a seat?’ Rowan suggests to Dylan.
‘Sure,’ Dylan replies.
While I serve up their dinner, Rowan steers Dylan towards the dining table.
‘There you go,’ he says, indicating a chair. ‘Can I pour you some wine?’
‘Just something soft for me, please,’ Dylan requests. ‘I’m trying to impress someone.’
I laugh. Rowan does not.
‘With my good behaviour, obviously,’ he clarifies after seeing Rowan’s unimpressed expression.
I give the kids their meals and then join Rowan and Dylan at the table. I can’t help but notice Rowan has seated himself opposite Dylan, next to me, rather than in his usual spot at the head of the table. I mentally roll my eyes.
Rowan takes the silver salt shaker from in front of him and sprinkles it over his food. He is terrible for putting extra seasoning on his food, before he’s even tasted it.
Then he cuts his food, takes a big mouthful, and his face changes in a way I’ve never seen before. He coughs and splutters and then grabs his glass of wine and practically pours it straight down his throat.
‘Are you okay, buddy?’ Dylan asks him, concerned.
‘The salt,’ Rowan groans, his voice weak. ‘It’s not salt. It’s sugar.’
I clap my hand over my mouth.
‘Oh, my gosh,’ I say guiltily. ‘I didn’t think, when I put the best shakers out, but on Pancake Day I filled it with sugar for the boys. I completely forgot, here, give me your plate, let me get you a fresh piece. You didn’t use any, did you, Dill?’ I check.
‘No, I didn’t,’ he says, tucking into his food. ‘I’m sweet enough.’
‘So, this must be weird for you two, huh?’ Rowan says, leading the conversation now that he’s over the shock of the sugar. ‘Friends for years, you see nothing of each other, no interaction at all, and then you just turn up out of the blue?’
He seems to be doubting our story – doubting me, not just Dylan’s reasons for coming here, which annoys me, because how dare he think I’m the dishonest one?
‘It was a surprise,’ I say as I return to the table, ‘but not weird. If anyone can help this guy turn his public image around, then who better than the person who already knows where all the skeletons are?’
‘But isn’t that because you helped me put them there?’ Dylan teases, a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘What was it we all used to say? Wilde by name…’
‘Me?’ I squeak playfully. ‘Never.’
‘Remember that night in Paris?’ he says with a devilish grin.
I laugh, my mind racing back to a memory that these days feels more like something I saw in a movie.
‘I’m sure everyone has been escorted from the Jardin des Tuileries at least once,’ I protest.
Dylan’s eyes twinkle with mischief.
‘Not with their top off,’ he adds.
Rowan’s jaw lands right in his lasagne.
