“Cocktails.” I smile happily. “They have over one hundred cocktails on the menu.”

“And I suppose you’ve sampled all of them,” he says, holding the door open for me.

I shake my head sadly. “Charlie, Eli, and I tried one night. I tried really hard, but it was no good.”

“What happened?”

“I fell off my stool and had to be helped to a taxi.” I look around and then sigh in relief. “Phew, the waiter isn’t on tonight. He wasn’t particularly happy when I threw up on his shoes.”

“What a strange person,” he drawls.

We give our name to the waitress who’s dressed like a schoolgirl. She zips off to get our table ready, and Zeb looks after her in confusion for a second and then leans back against the wall and stares at me. “So,” he says slowly. “Who’s Eli? Is he an old boyfriend?”

I stare at him, flabbergasted at the level of jealousy in his voice. I don’t know whether he’s aware of it or not, but it’s definitely there and it sends a thrill running through me.

“No,” I say. “Eli’s been my best friend since childhood.”

His expression clears. “The Welsh one you mentioned?”

“Yes. How did you remember that?” I ask, amazed.

He shrugs. “It helps that I listen to you.” He pauses. “Well, it doesn’t help my mental health, but c’est la vie.”

“You’re so cosmopolitan, Daddy,” I say, nudging him and listening to his throaty laughter with pleasure.

The waitress returns to guide us to the table, and it takes a few minutes to settle down. He looks around with interest. The restaurant is set up like a classroom with educational posters on the walls, a blackboard with the specials on it, and desks for tables.

We order our drinks and desserts. Zeb chooses a peach panna cotta while I go for the popsicle cheesecake and we both opt for Irish coffees. When the waitress leaves with a smile, he sits back and looks at me. “So, back to Eli?”

“What?” I say innocently and then laugh. “He’s my best friend. Never been anything else and I think his boyfriend would have something to say if there was.” I pause. “Although I’d pay to hear him say even horrible things.”

He looks at me quizzically and I smile. “Eli lives with Gideon Ramsay.”

He whistles. “The actor who came out last year? Eli is the nurse he was seeing?”

“Living with,” I say. “And I fully expect they’ll get married.”

He sits back as our drinks are delivered. “So, Eli is taken,” he says happily, and I grin. He shoots me a look. “Do you miss him?”