There it was again. The mention of her owing him a favour. She clenched her jaw. She should ignore his thinly veiled attempt at emotional blackmail – why should she feel bad about something he supposedly did for her over twenty years ago? Something she didn’t even remember? Whatever he may or may not have done for her in the past, it would never have been enough to mask the fact that he’d left her. He’d hurt her. She didn’t owe him anything.

Louisa turned her body towards the car door and reached for the handle.

The lock snapped down.

For a moment she was confused, then she froze. ‘What are you playing at?’

‘Give me a moment of your time, please, Lou? You’ve got a few hours yet before Tiff brings Noah home, you could spare me just one of those hours, couldn’t you?’

Her patience had worn thin, her sympathy for his predicament waning rapidly. ‘I don’t like the way you’re going about it, Oliver. There’s no need to make me feel bad, coerce me into letting you in my house. Unlock the door, please.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m grasping, aren’t I?’ He gave a melodramatic sigh. ‘It’s like I’m hanging on by my fingernails for dear life, and they’re tearing from the nail bed one by one. I’m not coercing you. I’m asking you.’

‘You’re making me uncomfortable.’

A snort made her snap her head around to look at him. He was smiling.

‘And that’s funny? That you’re causing me to feel uncomfortable?’ Her eyes widened in disbelief.

‘It’s just ironic,’ he said. He looked out of the driver’s side window, off into the distance. ‘How the tables have turned.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked. Although she didn’t want to know the answer.

‘You begged me for help, remember? And I didn’t think twice. I’m not asking anything like what you asked of me, yet you act like you’re too busy, too tired, too whatever.’ He flicked his hand dismissively. ‘It hurts, if I’m honest.’