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“Well, no, not officially, but you and your brother used to hang about your dad’s hotel a lot when I worked there, so I saw you around.”

“Ah, right, well, it’s nice to finally meet properly, even if it’s twenty years too late.”

She nodded. “Come in. Have you eaten? There’s coddle and some fresh bread. We weren’t sure if you ate meat.”

“I do.”

“Ah, perfect.” She motioned me to follow her, and we made our way down the narrow hallway and into a brightly lit kitchen. The walls were covered in shelves and hangers to house all manner of cooking utensils. If I didn’t already know that a professional chef lived here, it would be immediately apparent.

There was no sign of Erin, though, and I couldn’t deny being disappointed.

Cooke stood by the stove, stirring a large pot. He placed the lid over it then turned around to greet me. “Mr Balfe. I can’t thank you enough for coming over. I know you’re a busy man, so this means a lot.”

I was momentarily taken aback by his warmth. I was, after all, the one who’d fired him only a few short weeks ago, but he acted like it was all water under the bridge. It seemed he was just one of those people who you couldn’t get down for long, eternally optimistic no matter what befell him. I was glad Erin and her sister had a man like this in their lives.

“It’s the least I can do,” I said, but he waved me off.

“Pfft. Sometimes you need a kick up the backside because you’ll never jump on your own, you know?” I nodded and noticed Erin’s sister eyeing me.

“Did Erin come to see you yesterday?” she asked as I took a seat at their table.

“Yes, she did.”

Her eyes lit. “And how did that go?”

Ah, I see. It appeared Erin had confided in her sister about what had been transpiring between us. It didn’t bother me. Everyone needed a sounding board, someone to discuss personal matters with. And besides, I’d done the exact same thing with Derek.

“It went well. Very well.”

Her features shaped themselves into a broad smile. “Oh, I’m so pleased to hear that.”

“Do you want a big bowl or a small bowl, Mr Balfe?” Cooke asked, searching through the cupboard.

“Medium, if you have it. And you can call me Tristan.”

“Medium it is,” he said, pulling out a grey bowl.

Sloane picked up the dog, who had been sniffing and pawing at my legs, and walked to the door. “Well, I’ll leave you both to it,” she said before she went.

Cooke placed a plate of homemade soda bread in front of me, alongside a tray of butter before carrying over the bowl of coddle. I ate the first spoonful, and it was good, really good. The bread, too, was perfect, and I realised Erin had been right. Cooke was a great chef. His fare was simply different from what we served at the hotel. There was no reason for his food truck not to be a success.

“Well?” he asked as I went in for another spoonful.

“The best coddle I’ve ever had,” I told him, and he grinned, taking the seat across from me before clasping his hands together.

“Right, well, let’s get talking, shall we? How do I get this business idea off the ground?”

We spent the next hour discussing the food truck, sharing ideas back and forth. I was vaguely aware of my phone buzzing in my pocket, some texts coming through. I only got a chance to check when Cooke began clearing the table.

Did you tell my sister we had sex!?

Oh my God, first Lou and Katy catch me leaving your room this morning. Then my aunt and uncle see me scurrying up to my apartment in last night’s outfit, and now this.

Will the powers that be not let us keep something for ourselves just for a little while?

That’s it. I’m coming over.

I chuckled at her obvious fluster before shooting off a response.