I make it back to the table and set it down. “Sit,” I order, physically placing Ava on the seat. I scan her, up and down, dying to declare our departure. At this rate, there will be no reminding her of anything. She looks fit to drop. Fucking alcohol. It’s robbed me of so much, and now it’s robbing me of Ava. “Drinks?” I’ll get a round in, and then we’re leaving. I’m hit with a splurge of requests that knocks me back a few paces.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Sam says as I head to the bar, him following hastily.

I smile to myself. “If I’d said I was going to take a piss, would you have come there too?” I ask. We’ve broken the girlie scale today. Coffee. Congregating to discuss women. What next? I muscle my way to the bar and throw my order at the barman.

“Shut up,” Sam spits, just as Drew joins us. “I take it the talk went well.”

There wasn’t exactly much talking. “Yeah,” I say, throwing a couple of notes down and turning into him. “What’s the deal with you and Kate?”

Sam frowns. Opens his mouth. Shuts it. Then he turns to Drew. “What’s the deal with you and Victoria?”

Drew frowns. Opens his mouth. Shuts it.

I laugh and slide some drinks over to Sam when they land on the bar. “Just remember one thing,” I say, trying my hardest not to sound too serious, even though I am very serious.

“What?” they say in unison.

“Ava doesn’t know about The Manor, which means Kate doesn’t know, which means Victoria doesn’t know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam sighs tiredly. “And when do you plan on telling Ava about your seedy little sex club?”

“Seedy?” I ask, insulted. “Little?”

“Okay, classy and fucking massive.”

I look between my mates, both of their interested attention on me. “I don’t know,” I admit. The Manor has taken a backseat to the other shit I’m having to deal with. Like winning her back.

“Well, let us know, won’t you?” Drew says, knocking back his beer. “Wouldn’t want to drop you in it.”

My hackles rise. “Only you can make sure that doesn’t happen,” I hiss threateningly, and he smiles around the rim of his bottle.

“So laid-back,” he murmurs, mocking the hell out of me.

I throw him a scowl and return my attention to the barman while they claim the drinks and join the others. The Manor. I should start by telling her about The Manor. I look up to the ceiling of the bar, exhaling. “This is your fault, Carmichael,” I say quietly.