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“Try not to crush your throat first. I don’t want your job.”

“You couldn’t handle my job.”

“I can handle more than one eighty-five.”

He moves behind the bar and holds his hands beneath it without touching. “Whenever you’re ready, princess.”

I lie back, set my grip, and lift the bar from the rack. The first few reps go up easily. The last takes more effort than I’d like, but I lock my arms and return the bar to the hooks without Daniel’s help.

He waits until I sit up. “I take it something’s wrong?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You hate working out, you can’t stop checking your phone, and you called me before nine on a Sunday.”

I wipe the sweat from my face with a towel, buying myself a few seconds. There’s no point denying it now. Daniel can be an asshole, but he keeps secrets, doesn’t panic, and looks at the facts before taking sides. If I have to tell someone, he’s the safest choice.

“I need sensible advice,” I say. “Unfortunately, that means you.”

“This should be good.”

“I slept with someone last night.”

Daniel grimaces. “I already regret asking.”

“She called it…” I glance away. “Satisfactory.”

Daniel goes still. He presses his lips together, but the corners keep twitching. Then he looks down, and his shoulders begin to shake.

“Don’t.”

A laugh escapes him.

“Fuck you.”

He holds up one hand and tries to pull himself together. “Sorry.”

He isn’t sorry at all.

“Go on,” he says.

“Now she won’t answer my calls.”

His smile remains. “Calls? Plural?”

“Two.”

He loses the fight and starts laughing again.

I glare at him. Daniel may laugh, but he’ll keep this to himself. Tom would spend the rest of his life telling everyone he met.

“I thought she was joking. Now I’m not sure.”

That finally wipes the amusement from his face. He reaches for his water and studies me while he takes a drink.

“Who is she?”

“Does it matter?”