“You had every right not to come back to mine if you didn’t want to, or to change your mind about it. Throwing myself at you doesn’t oblige you to catch me. But it felt easier to be cross about that than to say what I was actually upset about, which was prickish of me, and I am sorry. Not partially.”

“If you would like to tell me what you were actually upset about,” Aaron said with caution, “perhaps I could apologise specifically?”

Joel gave him a level look for a couple of seconds longer than felt comfortable, then let out an abrupt breath. “Look, I’d let myself hope for—well, more that you just coming up for a couple of hours. And I realised I shouldn’t have, and it hurt a bit. That’s all. Well, it’s not all, because then I was an arsehole about it.”

The words were a fist to Aaron’s chest. How he’d failed, what he’d missed. “I’m sorry,” he said again, uselessly, because he wasn’t sure what else to say in the face of that bare truth. He didn’t think Joel wanted to hear I’d have hoped too, but I didn’t have the nerve. “I’m sure my behaviour was confusing. I don’t really know how to, uh, conduct this kind of thing at the best of times, which these are not. But if it helps, I wanted to come up that night more than I can say. It wouldn’t have been a good idea.”

Joel gave a tight imitation of a smile. “Indeed it wouldn’t, because there was a man watching my house that night, who I have to suppose was a Sabini. Did you know that was going to happen?”

“Not when I invited you to dinner, no. Rahim warned me just before we left Shafi’s. He said he’d just had a visitor—a Sabini—who had told him to report back on who I was eating with.”

“Shit. Really? Shit.”

“I assumed, as long as I didn’t go back to your flat, there would be nothing to report and no problem. It would have been more sensible to part at the restaurant door, but the truth is, I didn’t want to. That evening was the only good thing that’s happened to me in some time and I didn’t want it snatched from me before it had to end.”

“That’s nice,” Joel said. “Glad to be of help. It’s made my life considerably worse, but the food was wonderful, so I dare say it’s swings and roundabouts.” He stabbed a bit of pasta with his fork, and added, “Ignore me, I’m being a bitch. This isn’t your fault.”