‘I’m going to put some real clothes on,’ he said. ‘Make me a coffee.’ ‘It’s your house!’ I cried. ‘You’re supposed to offer me coffee!’ ‘Make the sad divorcé a coffee!’ ‘You make it!’ ‘You!’ ‘You!’ ‘Fucking, YOU!’ ‘Hey Kit,’ I said through a grin I knew he’d hate. ‘Love you.’ ‘Okay, enough, that’s disgusting. Go and pack up my office.’
