Roger wasn't trying to escape Lydia, forever or at all. He didn't particularly want to tell her anything, but that had nothing to do with her and everything to with him. Roger hadn't told anyone for more than a year what had happened between him and Arran. He had sort of told Ashleigh but that was because he needed an advice and she didn't know Arran, or really, even knew Roger very well. Lydia, on the other hand, knew both Arran and Roger. In a way, Roger really didn't want to have this conversation because he was sure it wasn't going to go well (there was literally no way in which it could). But he also knew that Lydia was persistent and once she set her mind to something, it, well, happened.
So he had no intention to escape when the knocking started, pulling the door open as he gave her a frown. "I haven't tried to escape you at all," he informed her almost dismissively, letting Lydia in. "Besides, I am aware that you'd probably hunt me down even if I tried," Roger added as they moved towards the living room. It felt a lot like when Lydia had come over on Father's Day, except Roger was less drunk. Currently, at least, because he did intend to change that very shortly.
"Look," he said pointing at the coffee table. "I've prepared," he informed her. On the table there sat a bottle of tequila (and Roger also had one in a cupboard in the kitchen if one would not be sufficient enough), a whole lemon and some salt. Roger had figured if he was going to get drunk and be forced to tell Lydia the whole story, he might as well enjoy at least the getting drunk part of it.