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Robin wasn’t sure what prompted it.
It was an ordinary day at the agency, doing paperwork alone in the partner’s office. A gentle summer breeze blew through the open window, and through the door, she could hear Pat on the phone.
She stopped the report she was writing, her hands hovering over the keyboard, and as her eyes traveled idly through the room, searching for inspiration, they stopped at the vacant seat of her partner, currently away on surveillance.
She felt a familiar pang in her heart, and her mind started drifting, the report forgotten. It went through memories, events of the past year, not really staying on any of them. She’d revisited them many times over, but somehow at that moment, as if by a fluke, they suddenly seemed to align in the precise right order to be given a whole new light.
She gasped and took her hand to her mouth.
“Oh, God.”
***
“Bloody well done,” Strike said, smiling at her and reclining in his chair.
Robin had smiled back.
“Yeah, I thought we might have to give up on this one,” she said. “Months of surveillance and no breakthrough…”
“Well, you’re not a quitter, so it doesn’t surprise me.” He grinned again.
Robin checked her watch.
“Well, feel like celebrating?” She asked. “I could do with a drink.” Robin looked at him expectantly, sure that he’d say yes; it had become a tradition, over the past few months, for them to get drinks on Fridays, when neither was on surveillance. Instead, she saw his face fall.
“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I, uh...Already have plans.”
He smiled ruefully, and Robin was struck by the uneasy feeling that something important had changed without her realizing it.
***
Robin stayed in her chair for several minutes, eyes distant, contemplating the possibility that she had been completely blind.
She could be mistaken now , she pondered. She could be seeing things where there were none. But she knew the feeling of puzzle pieces fitting together well enough not to give her intuition some credit. And each time she went over the same events, she felt more certain.
After a good while had passed and she felt she wouldn’t be able to ignore this feeling, she took her phone and typed a quick message.
Hi. Can we talk?
***
Robin put the plates in the dishwasher, hearing Strike and Nick laughing in the living room. When she turned to pick up more dishes, she saw Ilsa looking at her, arms crossed and a strange expression on her face.
“What?” Robin frowned.
Ilsa pursed her lips.
“Robin… did you know Corm is dating?”
It took Robin everything she had to keep an impassive face.
“Oh,” she said, nonchalantly. She put a few more plates in the dishwasher. “I--well, not officially, but I’d gathered as much, yes.”
Ilsa waited silently for her to turn again, this time sporting a deep frown.
“What?” Robin repeated.
“Look, I know I promised Corm that I wouldn’t bring it up again, but--”
“Please, Ilsa,” Robin shook her head. “You did, and why do you think that is? I’m asking you too. Please, just drop it.”
Ilsa stared at Robin again, her face scrunched in a grimace. Finally, she sighed deeply.
“Fine,” she said. “If it’s what you want, fine.”
Robin sighed too, in relief.
***
Ilsa studied Robin from across the pub table.
“So, I’m finishing this already,” she pointed at her nearly empty glass of wine. “Do you plan on saying whatever is on your mind, or…?”
Robin didn’t look at her, toying with the rim of her glass.
“Just spill it, Ilsa.”
“What?”
Robin looked up.
“Whatever it is that you were desperate to say, about me and Cormoran. Just get on with it.”
Ilsa’s eyebrows shot up.
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “One: do you have feelings for Corm?”
Robin was silent for a long beat.
“Yes.”
Ilsa nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “Two. Why the fuck did you let him date someone else, then?”
***
Robin slowly approached Strike, her hands in her pockets due to the cold night air. They remained in silence for a few moments, him letting out puffs of smoke.
“Be honest,” she finally said, moving slightly to push away the cold. “Not so bad, was it?” She turned to him, smiling.
He chuckled.
“No, it really wasn’t,” he said. “I mean, fortieth. If Lucy’d been left in charge, there’d have been fireworks.”
Robin laughed.
“I’m sure we can still make it happen, if you really want it.”
Strike looked at her sideways and grinned. He took a long drag and exhaled before speaking again, quietly. “This is better, though.”
Robin’s breath caught in her throat, and she merely nodded.
A long moment passed before he spoke again, seeming to diffuse the atmosphere.
“I know it was you,” he said. “Making this not terrible.” He let his cigarette fall to the ground and stomped on it. “Thanks for that.”
“Well,” she said, turning to him. “That’s what best mates are for, right?”
Strike chuckled and nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “Right in one.”
***
Robin stared back at Ilsa for a long moment, then buried her face in her hands.
“Oh, bugger. ”
Ilsa’s glare immediately softened.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said.
Robin took a deep breath before answering Ilsa’s question.
“Because I didn’t know. ”
Ilsa tilted her head.
“Didn’t know... what ?”
“Didn’t know that--” she started, finally taking her hands away from her face and looking at Ilsa. “God. I didn’t know that he -- you know--”
Ilsa stared at her in disbelief.
“Oh, but honey,” she said. “How could you not know? ”
***
They walked side by side along the Cornish beach.
“This is so beautiful, Cormoran,” Robin said, staring at the deep blue sea.
Strike inhaled deeply.
“Yeah,” he said. “It really is.” Then he turned to her. “I have something for you.” He inserted his big hand inside his coat pocket.
Robin frowned.
“Something for me?” She asked.
“Yeah. Christmas present.” He retrieved a small packet.
Robin stared at it.
“Christmas-- Cormoran, you already gave me a present!”
“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to give you something, as a, uh, way of thanks.” He paused. “I’m really glad you came, you know. First Christmas since…” he trailed off. “It’s really made a big difference for Ted, I think.” He looked at her for a moment, taking a deep breath. “And for me.”
Robin’s eyes prickled with tears.
“Oh, Cormoran,” she said. “It’s been lovely. I’m so glad you invited me.”
He grinned and handed her the package.
Robin slowly took it from his hand and carefully unwrapped it. It was a small jewelry box. She quickly turned to look at him. “Cormoran--” she started.
“Open it,” he said.
She hesitated before doing so. It was a delicate golden chain with a small pendant of a robin, a red stone in its chest.
Robin looked at the gift, trying hard not to cry.
“I know it’s hardly original,” Strike said. “But I --”
“It’s perfect,” she interrupted, looking at him. She took a breath. “It’s really perfect. Thank you, Cormoran. You… I mean, you really didn’t have to.”
He nodded.
“I know. I’m glad you liked it, though,” he said softly, and stood there, looking at her for a few moments, before clearing his throat. “Well, uh,” he gestured towards the road. “Shall we head back?”
***
“I don’t know,” Robin said. “I never thought it -- I was never sure --”
“Robin!”
“I’m sorry, Ils, I just wasn’t!”
It was Ilsa’s turn to take a hand to her face.
“Bloody hell,” she said.
“I am right, then?” Robin asked. “He really -- I mean, did he say something?”
“Never in so many words,” Ilsa replied. “But he didn’t need to, did he? Yeah , you’re fucking right!” She paused. “How could you not--”
“It’s not like he ever said anything to me, either!” Robin protested.
Ilsa glared at her in confusion.
“He took you to the bloody Ritz!”
“As friends, and you know that!”
“He gave you a balloon and perfume!”
“He was apologizing--”
“For Christ’s sake,” Ilsa exclaimed. “He gave you jewelry, Robin!”
“ He gave me a bloody designer dress when we first met !” Robin exploded. “How was I supposed to--”
“He asked you out on Valentine’s day !”
***
“So I was thinking,” he said casually from his side of the desk, and Robin lifted her head from the report she was reading. “You, uh, any plans for Saturday?”
Robin frowned.
“Saturday?” She asked, thinking. “Hm… No, I had surveillance but Michelle asked to take that shift.”
“Right,” Strike said, coughing a little. “I actually meant, uh, any personal plans.”
“Oh,” said Robin. “Uh… no. No plans.”
“Right,” Strike repeated, nodding. “So, uh, I was wondering…” He swallowed. “I was wondering if we could do something. So that I, uh, could make it up to you. For last year.”
“Last year,” Robin repeated, blankly.
“Yeah,” Strike said. “Last year.”
Understanding suddenly hit her.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes widened. She made a slight pause, in which they looked at each other awkwardly.
“I mean, it was just an--”
“Yes,” Robin said, interrupting Strike. “Yeah, of course. I’d love that.”
He smiled.
“Great,” he said. “Pick you up at seven?”
“Oh, there’s no--”
“I know.”
Robin let his words wash over her.
“Okay.”
***
“God,” Robin buried her face in her hands again before looking at Ilsa. “I know! But we’d spent the last Valentine’s together, too, and it was nothing like that at all!”
“Robin--”
Robin continued, speaking fast.
“Actually, we had a big fight because he was an arse, and then he said he just wanted to make it up to me--”
“Robin.”
“And he didn’t say anything that night either! ”
***
Strike walked the last few steps to her door by her side, then stopped.
“So,” Robin said, bracing herself against the slightly chilly night air.
“So,” he repeated in his deep voice, looking down at her and smiling. After a small pause, he asked, “Am I forgiven, then?”
Robin laughed.
“You know you are, Cormoran,” she said, quietly. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
Robin swallowed, feeling her heart rate pick up.
“But I’m glad you did,” she continued. “Thank you. It was lovely.”
He nodded.
“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” he said, smiling at her, and Robin thought her heart might leap out of her chest. She looked at him for a long moment, in his dark suit and aftershave, watched his smile slowly fading as she waited for something which she couldn’t even acknowledge; she waited so long that she felt heady, so overtaken by the impulse of doing something she might regret, that she took a step back.
“Well,” she said, her voice shaken. “See you Monday?”
She thought she saw something pass over his eyes before he replied.
“Yeah. See you Monday.”
She quickly reached forward and gave him a peck in the cheek before turning away.
***
“He didn’t do anything,” Robin continued, but now her voice faltered.
“Well, maybe he was waiting for your cue!” Ilsa replied.
“But I was waiting for his,” Robin said, weakly, only now realizing the extent to which this was true.
“Fuck, Robin. He’d given them to you. How the hell did you miss it?”
Robin was silent for a moment, looking down at her glass. She took a long sip before replying.
“Because I was too busy trying to hide mine,” she admitted quietly. Ilsa scrunched her face in sympathy. “God, Ilsa, why didn’t you say anything?”
“ Why did you ask me not to ?”
“Because he’d asked you first!” Robin said. “And I thought that meant… the opposite of what it actually meant.”
Ilsa only shook her head.
“The pair of you, I swear.” She took a large gulp of wine and stared at Robin. “Well, then. Now you know.”
“Now I do, but it’s too late,” Robin said morosely, toying with her glass. "He’s dating.”
Ilsa suddenly smiled.
“Was.”
Robin’s head perked up.
“What?”
“Was dating. They broke up about two weeks ago. You didn’t know?”
“Are you serious ?” Robin asked, incredulous.
Ilsa frowned at her.
“Think I’d joke about that?”
“No,” Robin said. “I don’t.” She kept looking at Ilsa, in disbelief.
“Oh for God’s sake, just go !” Ilsa said. “Go. I’ll settle the tab.”
Robin smiled brightly at her friend.
“Thank you, Ilsa,” she said, going to her and kissing her on the cheek. “ Thank you .”
“No problem,” Ilsa said, as Robin made her way to the pub door. “Get it bloody right this time!”
***
Robin knocked on the door, her hands trembling.
After a few moments, Strike opened it, looking ready to go to bed and utterly surprised.
“Robin? Everything all right?”
“We’ll see,” she said. “Would you forgive me if I’ve been a shitty detective?”
He frowned, but as he looked intently at her bright eyes, realization seeping in, Robin watched as it slowly morphed into a genuine, hopeful smile.