He grins. “Yup.”
“All of that sounds good.”
“Okay.” He starts scribbling a list, pausing after writing down half a dozen places. “Gay bars?”
“Yes.” Not that I’d go alone.
He taps the end of his pen on the table. “So… you and Jimmy… what’s the story there?”
“Hasn’t he told you?”
Angus shuffles in his chair. “All I know is, you were with his twin.” Something in his voice suggests he knows a bit more than that. “You seem kind of young.”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“The same age as me. I can’t imagine being married and—” His voice dies in his throat.
“And divorced by twenty-two?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. We married young.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“We applied for a marriage license the moment I turned eighteen. I’m a few months younger than Billy and Jimmy. Got married in a registry office as soon as we could.”
“So you were childhood sweethearts?”
“Yeah.”
“And your parents were okay with you marrying so young?”
I stare at the table. “I haven’t spoken to my parents since I was fourteen.”
He sucks in a breath. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “I’m better off without them in my life. Anyway, we were eighteen. It’s not like anyone could stop us from…” I press my lips together and shake my head. “Long story short, it didn’t work out. We got divorced, and now I’m here.”
“Do you like working for Dad?”
I smile, glad for the change of subject. “Yes.”
“He can be a bit surly.”
“Yeah, but I don’t mind. Besides, hard work and fresh air are good for the soul.”
“True, but early mornings are a killer.”
I chuckle. “I don’t mind those. I like seeing the dawn.”
Angus continues writing his list of things I have to see and do in Leeds. My phone vibrates against my leg. Why the heck has my pulse increased? I check the message from Jimmy on the hook-up app: ‘Help with revision would be great, but you must have better things to do.’
No. No, I don’t.
I reply with, ‘When and where?’ and stare at my phone, as if I’m expecting an instant reply, which won’t happen. He’ll have better things to do. Maybe he’s having breakfast. Or perhaps he messaged me, then stepped into the shower. I shut down the thought. I do not need a mental image of Jimmy’s six-pack abs underneath running water.
“How did you meet Jimmy?” I ask.
