Rory shakes his head.
I bring the mugs over to the table and hand him one. I sit and watch his face as he tentatively takes a sip. To be fair, the coffee is still steaming hot.
“This is good.”
“Better than your instant stuff?”
“About a thousand times better. Don’t go thinking you’ve converted me, though. Instant coffee is a lot faster to make.”
I shrug. “Good things come to those who wait.”
I nurse my mug and blow over the top of the dark surface before taking a cautious sip. The coffee has a full-bodied richness to it, with hints of spice and chocolate.
I wish Rory would open up to me. He’s like a firmly closed book, with a lock and key for good measure. I know next to nothing about him, except that he must like sensory play and that he enjoys woodwork enough to make a doll house for his niece. I’ve put the offer of listening to him out there. Now there’s nothing I can do except drink coffee with him. I’m not even sure what to say.
“How was the bar tonight?” I ask.
“Busy. It always is on a Saturday night. A few drunks causing trouble, but nothing the bouncers couldn’t handle. What about The Library?”
“Also busy. I had three clients. The dance floor was packed whenever I went up there.”
“It’s good it’s popular. There aren’t enough quality kink clubs.”
“That’s the truth.”
Rory stares at the coffee. “This is decaff, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
He chuckles. “It’s probably for the best. I should try and get some sleep.” He looks up to meet my stare. “Do you have any regrets?”
“Tons. Who doesn’t?” I clear my throat. I’m going to need to give him more than that if I want him to open up to me. “My dad got sent to jail when I was ten. I was angry and took it out on my mum. I’ll always regret that.”
“You were a kid.”
“I’m not sure that’s much of an excuse.”
“Kids aren’t known for having emotional maturity.”
“That’s true.” I sip my coffee. “How about you?”
“Not getting to celebrate today with my birthday buddy.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Birthday buddy?”
“Callan. We were born on the same day. Our mams were in beds next to each other on the maternity ward. They get to talking and became friends. We practically grew up together.” He sighs heavily. “He was my best friend.”
“Was?”
Rory drinks a long swig of coffee. “We haven’t spoken in years. It was my fault. I broke his confidence.”
“I’m sure you had a good reason.”
“Ay, I did. But that didn’t matter. He still ended up hating me.” He downs the rest of the coffee. “Probably still does.”
“Did you play football together?”
Rory stiffens.
