As he opened the front door, the aroma of roast lamb wafted towards him. Domesticity wasn’t so bad when you could come home to a beautiful woman and roast lamb. Even if the woman wasn’t the girl of your dreams, there was always the lamb – with a glass of red.
Carlene was transferring the lamb from the baking dish to the carving board. Reuben put his arms round her waist and kissed her cheek. ‘Here, let me do that.’
‘Thanks. How was Finn?’
It was a casual enough question but he sensed undertones. Or was that just his guilty conscience?
‘Oh, you know, the usual. He’s still depressed but hanging in there.’
‘Is he seeing a counsellor?’
‘Er ... I don’t know.’
‘He’s lucky to have you to talk to.’
He stole a glance at her as she lit the candle on the dining table, but there was no hint of
