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“Draining. But at the same time, Jean was right. I know this, and I can do this. But it’s…hard. I feel like I’ve lost all my confidence. That I’ve forgotten how to talk to people, and I left most of it to Jean today. I should have been the one talking. I just couldn’t.”

“You did good.” I meant that. “You got out of the house, and you snagged yourself a contract.”

“Asmallcontract. A basic fee that will barely cover Jean’s coffee purchases.”

“It’s a start.”

He snickered.

“Hey,” I said, pushing the paperwork away from him. “Go lie down. Sleep.”

“I can’t.” There was that panic again. I recognised it well. The fear of having to go lie in the dark and stew overirrational fears and terrifying thoughts. I knew him well enough to read him now.

“Want me to stay for a bit? You look exhausted.”

“I don’t…you know…mean it like that.”

“I know you don’t.” I laughed. “We’re friends, right? This is what friends do. We hang out. We sit on the sofa and doom-scroll on our phones so we feel less alone. We talk. And most of all, we let the guy who can barely keep his eyes open…” I paused as he fought to prop up his eyelids. “We let him go and lie down, and then we sit here until he’s asleep. Deal?”

“I have nothing for you to sit on. That chair isn’t very comfortable.”

“I’ll manage,” I said, watching as he carefully stood up, his eyes darting all over the room.

“Go,” I said. “Brush your teeth, get into bed.”

“Can you come over in the morning again? It’s easier to deal with Jean when you’re there as a buffer. This morning was good that way.”

“You’re going to have to deal with Jean,” I said sternly. “You’re her boss.”

“And if I could, I would tell her to go home and enjoy her retirement. Jean is refusing to accept that she no longer works for me and is instead trying to rebuild my reputation.”

“She’s doing a good job of it.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Dylan. You can.” I used my stern voice, the same one I’d used with Reuben when he’d been young and immature and made stupid life choices. “I sound like I’m telling my son off,” I admitted.

“You’re terrifying.” There was a small smile there. And I returned it.

He was handsome when he smiled.

“You’re perfectly safe with me,” I assured him. “Let me lock the back door, and I’ll sit here for a bit. Need to catch up with the news and finish my tea.”

“You sure you don’t mind?” He sounded calmer now.

“Not at all.”

That feeling was back, and I wasn’t sure if it was because my own home had the same layout, the same patio doors and the same whitewashed walls, but I settled back andsipped my tea, smiling as he got into bed and tried to get comfortable.

“Night,” I said gently.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

And maybe that was it. The moment when I steered off track. I had no idea what I was doing and probably never would, but there was something there. Something new and strange, like I’d adopted this friendship and finally made it past the first hurdle.

Trust. I think that was it. He trusted me, and that was huge. Massive.

It made me happy, and that, in itself, made me feel calmer than I had in ages.