“They actually have names for them now. They’re called authors,” I said with a grin. “And yes. But he didn’t just know. I said the title, and he knew the author without blinking, and he knew the tone of the book and he did this excited gasping thing when I mentioned it.”

Michael stared at me over his coffee cup, mid-sip. “Oh shit.”

I pressed my lips together tight, then let out a long sigh. “Crazy, huh?”

“That you found another book-loving asexual gay man under sixty living in Sydney?”

I chuckled. “Well, yes. But I don’t know. I’ve spoken to him twice. The second time for all five seconds on the bus. And like you said, it’s a conflict of interest, and he came to the meeting for help. The last thing he needs right now is me messing that up.”

Michael shook his head slowly. “All this could have been avoided if you just bought a bloody car.”

I snorted at that. “The bus literally takes me from my front door to here, then here to home again. It’s less hassle, cheaper, and it’s better for the environment.”

He rolled his eyes, like he always did when we had this conversation. Then he brightened. “Oh shit, I almost forgot. Vee invited you to come over for dinner on Saturday night.” Vee, or Veronica, was Michael’s wife, and by association, a dear friend of mine. Since I’d split with Rob, she’d been trying her hand at matchmaking.

“She’s not trying to set me up again, is she?”

“She worries about you.”

“Worries? What for? I’m doing fine. Happily single.”

“I told her you’re doing fine. Actually, I told her you’re much happier now.”

“I am, thanks.” I took another sip of coffee. “If it’s not a blind date disguised as a dinner date, then yes, I’d love to come over.”

“I don’t know who she’s invited,” he replied, hiding that twisted-lip thing he did behind his coffee cup.

“God, you can’t lie for shit.” I conceded defeat. No, I didn’t want a blind date with anyone, but dinner with my best friend and his wife and not another weekend alone sounded pretty bloody good. “Ask her if I need to bring anything.”

“I will,” he said. Then his smile faded before he added, “So, if this Jordan guy catches your bus, you’ll be seeing him again this afternoon…”

“Possibly. But I might not get to speak to him if the bus is crowded or whatever.”

Michael nodded slowly. “Right.”

I sighed. “It’s not like that. It can’t be.”

“I feel a qualifier coming on. It can’t be like that until… it can’t be like that while… it can’t be like—”