“Not really, but it sounded good when I said it. Like I’m a reasonable person.”
“You have never been that in your life. Don’t start now.”
I follow him down a set of flagged steps. We take a right and come out into a large, whitewashed space with wooden floors, the only colour being the artwork hung on the walls and the handmade sculptures positioned around the room. “Wow,” I say, and he shoots me an approving smile.
There’s a pattering noise, and a little cocker spaniel comes around the corner. I immediately exclaim in pleasure. “Hello,” I say, crouching down and holding my hand out. He eyes me warily but then comes close and sniffs my hand cautiously. “Aren’t you a handsome boy,” I croon. “The handsomest boy in the whole wide world.”
“I thought that was me.” I look up, and Reuben is watching me, humour twinkling in his eyes.
“Not as handsome as this boy, and your nose is rarely wet.” The dog shoves his nose under my hand, demanding a pet. “So bossy,” I say fondly.
“How come it’s alright for the dog and not me?”
“He obviously has a winning personality. Tryharder, Reuben.” He starts to laugh, and I grin up at him. “I like dogs.”
His mouth is soft and unbearably fond. “So why don’t you have one? I know it’s not impossible. Dean has his familiar.”
“Henry Ashworth Robinson is not a familiar,” I say firmly. “He’s a person in his own right.”
He bites his lip, trying to contain a smile wanting to break out. I pet the dog, rubbing behind his ears and laughing as he contorts his head to get more pressure. Realising he’s still waiting for an answer, I shrug. “I don’t have the right situation for a dog. Hotels don’t like them staying.” I huff. “Which is fucking ironic because some of their human guests arefarmore badly behaved than any dog.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” he says grimly, undoubtedly thinking of Robbie.
“One day I will have a dog like you,” I croon to the spaniel, who creases his eyes like he’s laughing at me.
“Reuben,” comes the cry. Footsteps sound quickly, and I look around in time to see a small, dark-haired woman barrel into Reuben, hugging him around his narrow waist. “How are you?”
Reuben’s face softens. “Moira. I’m fine. You?”
“How was the South of France?”
“Hot but not as full of fucking tourists as here.”
She laughs. “Just one would be too much for you.”
She notices me, and I blink as she checks when she spots my face. I’m used to people recognising me. I’m on a great many billboards. But she looks like she’s seen a ghost.
“You,” she says.
I glance at Reuben. He meets my gaze and shrugs, so I hope that means she’s not homicidal.
“Me,” I say lightly, getting to my feet. The dog patters away, and I look after him regretfully.
“Xavier, isn’t it?” I nod, and she looks at Reuben. “Howveryinteresting.”
“Not really.”
“Not at all,” I say. What is interesting is that a flush is rising on Reuben’s cheeks. I offer her my hand. “And you are?”
“This is Moira,” Reuben says and she shakes my hand. “She’s a good friend.”
I smile at her. “Nice to meet a friend of his that isn’t reaching for a straitjacket.”
Her loud, lusty laugh makes me smile. She pats my arm. “He’s just how you described him, Reuben.”
I look between the two of them, intrigued to see that Reuben’s face is now fully red.
“You’ve spoken about me. This isglorious,” I whisper.
