‘I want to,’ I said, quickly, reaching out to touch his arm. ‘I do. I just hope it doesn’t sound presumptuous to say that … my situation …’

‘Just say it,’ he prompted, kindly. ‘It’s okay.’

I swallowed. ‘Embarrassingly,’ I began, and the mention of embarrassment made his lip quiver, just the tiniest bit, in amusement. ‘I’ve just been dumped.’ I didn’t want to give him my whole life story, but I’d been promising myself I’d tell him what had happened. ‘So I’m not dating. If that’s … I don’t know if that’s what you meant. But I wanted to check.’

I felt so awkward. Patrick’s lip quiver turned into a smirk, and then he said, casually, good-humouredly: ‘What a fool he must feel now,’ he said. ‘Or she. Whoever they were.’

‘He,’ I replied. ‘It’s crazy, seeing somebody from the past, I think. You knew me when I was …’ I was going to say ‘happy’ but stopped myself. ‘When things were simple. Adulthood, man. It’s rough!’

‘I’m glad you told me,’ he said. ‘I mean, I’m sorry that happened. Being dumped is brutal. Losing somebody you love is very hard.’

‘I’m a mess,’ I admitted.

‘I know that feeling.’ I stole a glance at him. He made it so straightforward to be honest. He was funny when something was funny, but he didn’t use humour as a way to distract from the gritty stuff, or deflect true emotion. I didn’t know a lot of men capable of that.

‘If you do know this feeling, then I’m sorry.’

He studied the floor, and for a second I thought he was about to give me the details. He sort of opened his mouth to speak but then clamped it shut forcefully, as if the devil on his shoulder had silenced him.

‘I should let you get on with your day,’ I said, driving the conversation to a halt. ‘But, same time, same place another day?’ It came out wrong. I meant to say a different time, a different place, as in: yes, let’s go out and reminisce. I was an idiot. What was I doing? My tongue was looped in knots. Why did I feel nervous? I was allowed to have a drink with a friend, for crying out loud.

‘I’m here every morning,’ he said, getting ready to leave. I’d bruised his ego. I could tell he was trying not to show it, but I had.

‘Every morning?’ I asked. I’d only caught him occasionally, but we must have been working out at the same time all week.

‘Most, yeah. Helps keep the demons at bay.’

‘Good for you. I’ve certainly got demons who could do with a healthy bollocking, that’s for sure.’

He cocked his head, exactly like he had done the day we first talked – the way the dog does it.

‘What?’ I asked.