“Not just you, me too.”
“Okay.”
“We’re taking ballroom classes together at least once a fortnight. And you will make the time.”
“Agreed.”
“And I’m sure you’ve heard Laurie’s more than likely pregnant with her first child and I was the donor. Well, I want us to have kids one day.”
“Oh, wow, okay. Wasn’t expecting that. How about we start with a dog?”
“Really?”
“Why not? Let’s go pick one out at the dog rescue tomorrow.”
“I would fucking love that.”
“Thought you might. I’ve cleared my weekend in the hopes you might be free. Now are you ready to leave yet? We can pick up some Thai takeaway on the way. And in the meantime, I can take your bags down to my car if you have things you need to finish up here.”
“Nope, I’m done.”
Between them, they collected Kieran’s bags and headed towards the lift lobby.
“Does Len always expect you to work this late?”
“Len normally kicks everyone out by five-thirty.”
“So what’s got you working so late tonight?”
Kieran stepped into the lift, pressed the button for the ground floor and turned to Kennedy with a sly smile.
“I was waiting for you.”
* * * *
When Kennedy opened the burgundy front door to his house, he saw everything in a new light, nervous about having Kieran there and badly needing his approval. The four-bedroom house had always been nothing more than a space to live and sleep in for Kennedy, and also an investment in case he needed to realise the equity one day. Now, for the first time, he wanted someone to like the place as a home.
“Leave the bags and let me give you the grand tour.”
He led Kieran to the living room, and realised for the first time how spartan and functional he had made the room. When Patrick had lived there, at least they’d had some paintings on the walls, to brighten the decor. Patrick had taken them with him. Even though the furnishings were Italian and expensive—three-piece navy sofas in a U-shaped arrangement, dark frosted-glass coffee table and grey silk carpet—everything felt cold and formal.
Kieran said nothing, so Kennedy immediately took him to the place he did most of his work.
“Here’s the open kitchen and dining room,” said Kennedy, realising he was probably stating the obvious. But this was one space he took pride in, because one whole windowed wall lined the back yard and the houses overlooking the space. He had also bought a large table and fitted the kitchen with a range of expensive appliances—not that many of them ever got used.
“A ten-seater dining table,” said Kieran. “Impressive. And your kitchen is spotless. Do either of them ever get used?”
Kennedy snorted and shook his head. Nothing ever got past Kieran.
“Not often. Not anymore. Mrs Dabrowski comes in every morning to do any household chores—cleaning, making the bed, washing, ironing—so everything is always kept looking spick and span. I’m at work most of the time, so don’t have a chance to mess things up. There’s probably not enough to keep her busy, but I know her family needs the money.”
“And she’ll have a dog to care for soon, while we’re both at work.”
“That she will. Shall we get your things upstairs?”
“Look, Kennedy. I’m not going to simply mooch off you. Somehow I need to contribute.”
“Of course, but the house is bought and paid for.”
