“Fuck you, motherfucker.” He necks a water, turning to face me, and looks up and down my suit as I balk at him. Then he jerks his head in the general direction behind us. I crane my neck and find Coral on one of the bench seats, her face squished into the plush material. “Sort it out,” he hisses. “Because I ain’t fucking here to deal with drunken love sick women.” He slams his glass down, and I flinch. “If you don’t revoke her membership, I will.”

Well, welcome back to The Manor.

I exhale tiredly, slumping over the bar. I need to stay away from Coral or she’ll get the wrong idea. I look back again when I hear stirring from behind me. Shit, she’s waking up. I can’t be here. I get up and hurry out of the bar, hearing John cursing his arse off behind me. “Sorry, mate,” I mumble. I’m very fucking tempted to let Sarah loose on Coral if this carries on. For fuck’s sake. I reach up to my forehead and rub away my frown lines. I must have aged ten years in the past week, and aging isn’t something I need to be doing anytime soon when I’m trying to woo a twenty-something woman.

I see Sarah at a table in the summer room with another lady, looking over some brochures. “Ah, here he is,” she says, jumping up from her chair.

“Indeed he is,” the woman muses as she gets to her feet, her tits definitely pushing out, her smile coy. “Mr. Ward, what a pleasure to see you again.”

Again? I’ve never seen her in my life. Sarah must catch my frown because she saves me from insulting the woman, who looks pretty fucking delighted to see me. “Chrissie helps me plan the anniversary party each year.”

I still don’t recall her. Jesus, I really am looking at the world through new eyes. Sober eyes. “Nice to see you again.” I blast her with my smile. Literally. She staggers back, taking hold of the edge of the table. “I’ll be in my office.”

“I have piles of contracts I need you to sign.”

“I’m only here until five,” I call back, having decided to collect Ava from work. Like I said, enough is enough. I’m going stir-fucking-crazy. Friday night feels like it was another life ago. “Make the most of me until then.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

To heaven. “Home.”

If Botox weren’t a thing, Sarah would be scowling right now.

By five, I’m both relieved and agitated. Relieved it’s time to go pick up Ava, even if she doesn’t know I’m picking her up, and pissed off because the florist confirmed delivery of my gift and I’ve not heard one peep from Ava. No call to thank me. No text. Nothing.