‘No, it’s fine.’ I took a long breath. ‘Maybe?’ I exhaled, touched the bar again. Solid. When I looked at him he was smiling.

‘Okay; maybe is good.’

I laughed. ‘Enjoy your book, Tom.’

His eyes met mine. ‘Thanks, Caitlin.’

I nodded, not looking away until Nic said my name.

He stayed until close, reading his book and sipping his whisky. I tried to ignore him but I was aware of his presence in the same way he seemed oblivious to mine, and to the noise and the room slowly emptying around him.

‘You right, Caitie?’ Nic asked, as the last tables cleared.

‘Always.’

He came up next to me and dropped his voice. ‘He’s waiting for you.’

‘He’s not,’ I said, focusing on rinsing the coffee machine. ‘He’s just reading. Decompressing from his big important job.’

‘Okay,’ Nic said. ‘I’ll get him to leave then?’

I shrugged. ‘Okay.’

‘Go talk to him.’

‘No.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s complicated.’ I didn’t need complicated. I needed to sleep. Wake up. Work. Sleep. Group. Easy. Constant. The opposite of complicated. ‘I don’t have the time.’

‘Why, because you’re doing the fridge seals tonight?’

I made a face. The fridge seals needed to be scrubbed with a toothbrush, flecks of stale milk and juice and beer going everywhere. Usually they were done by whichever newb Nic liked least that week.

‘I could,’ I said, calling his bluff. ‘But you can’t leave until I do, and you don’t want to keep six-foot-four Alex waiting …’

‘Shhh.’

‘And what about Holly?’

I heard Tom move, and when I glanced over he’d stood up.

Nic elbowed me in the ribs. ‘She’ll keep. Go. I’ll do this.’

‘No.’

‘Go,’ he repeated, loud enough for everyone to hear.

I shot him a look and turned to the end of the bar.

Tom had his jacket on, hands in his pockets. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t notice how late it was.’

‘It’s okay.’ I hesitated. ‘It must be a good book.’

‘Not really.’ He shrugged. ‘Some terrible crime thing my sister lent me. I just wanted to see how it ended.’

‘And?’

He laughed. ‘Nobody died.’

I looked back at Nic. He was watching us shamelessly, leaning against the coffee machine with his arms crossed. Tom looked at him too, then back at me.

‘So, how long a story?’ he asked, smiling.

‘Pretty long.’

‘How does it end?’

I shook my head, too slowly. A reminder, a warning—to him or to myself, I wasn’t sure. ‘Everybody dies.’

His eyes flashed and his face hardened, jaw twitching.

‘Well then,’ he said, his voice tighter than I’d heard it before. ‘I guess I’ll see you later.’

I watched him turn, my ribs aching. When I glanced over at Nic he looked annoyed, and for some reason it scared me.

‘Wait,’ I said.