I shake my head. “You may have twenty steaks if you wish it. You don’t need to ask as if I’m penniless and will have to clean the kitchen to pay for your meal.”

“How about cheesecake? Can I have a big slice of cheesecake with fresh cream?”

I bite my lip to hide my smile. “Good heavens, slow it down a bit. I’m not made of gold, Laurie.”

He throws his arm over me and cuddles into me. “I did miss you,” he says, his breath stirring my chest hair.

I reach up and stroke his hair. It’s a clumsy gesture because I’m unused to tenderness, but he says nothing and just watches me with those soft eyes.

“What are we doing?” he finally says.

A long moment passes. “I don’t know. I think it’s probably a mistake, yes?”

His lips tighten. “No ties, Mags,” he says in a beseeching voice.

I swallow hard. “None whatsoever, Laurie.”

The words feel awkward in my mouth, as if my tongue has grown two sizes, but he smiles, looking relieved.

He falls back against the pillows as I order the food. Endof whines outside the bedroom door as if sensing that we’re able to give him our attention now, and I watch Laurie get up and open the door where the dog is waiting patiently. They come towards me, and I find my lip twitching into a silly smile. I bite the ridiculous thing away and finish my call.

“How’s the trial going?” he says, falling back into bed beside me. Endof jumps up and curls up on my other side. I pet his fur, enjoying the silkiness beneath my fingertips.

“I think we will lose,” I finally say. “I’ve done the very best I can, but little things like my client rather hamper us.”

“Ouch.” His eyes narrow. “Are you bothered? You don’t seem it.”

I shrug. “I’ve lost many cases, Laurie. It wouldn’t do my mental health much good if I cried over them all.”

“I bet you absolutely fucking hate losing,” he says wryly.

“I do. Of course, I do. I detest it. Particularly when I feel that the client is innocent.” I eye him. “I’ll feel this loss less than others.”

Realisation dawns, and he smiles. “Okay.”

My phone beeps and I stretch to pick it up, checking the screen and smiling.

His eyes darken for some reason. “That’s a rather shark-like smile. Who is it?” he asks, crossing his arms behind his head. His attempt at a smile looks more like a grimace.

“My Scrabble opponent.”

He gapes at me. “Your what?”

I eye him. “Scrabble. You have heard of it?”