“What is wrong with you this evening?” I ask.
She wags her finger at us both. “The real question is what’s wrong with you.” She grumbles something under her breath. “You’re so dense. I can’t believeno one’ssaid anything to either of you before now.”
“About what?”
She breathes in slowly as though mentally preparing herself to do something difficult. “You’re a couple.”
“No, we’re not,” Fitz says. “We’re flatmates, and we’ve—”
“Been best friends for twenty years,” Vanessa says in a bored tone. “Iknow.”
“Why would you think that we’re a couple?” I ask.
“Because you are! And you’re the only two people on the planet who haven’t realised it.”
I move my hands and rest them on the arms of the chair. Fitz has sat upright, so he’s no longer leaning against me. My chest feels oddly cold without his back to warm it.
“We’re not a couple,” he says quietly. “We’re just friends.”
Vanessa lets out an exasperated sigh. “Friends who sit on each other’s laps?”
“There’s nowhere else to sit,” Fitz points out.
“I don’t sit on Fitz’s lap. I’d squash him.”
Fitz laughs, but it sounds a little forced. “You would not.”
“I really would. I’m a giant compared to you.”
Vanessa is giving us an ‘I told you so’ look. “You act like a married couple. The only thing you don’t do is sleep together.”
I decide it’s best not to tell her that Fitz and I slept on a sofa together last night. Not that it meant anything. It certainly didn’t mean what she’s implying.
“We’re friends,” I say slowly.
“You must know how touchy-feely you are with each other?”
“Yes, but it doesn’tmeananything. We’re close friends, that’s all.”
Vanessa rolls her eyes. “Fine. Keep telling yourselves that. But maybe you should kiss each other just to be sure.”
Fitz chokes. “Sorry, what?”
She gestures to us. “On the lips,” she clarifies.
“Why would we do that?”
“If you’re ‘just friends’,” she says, using air quotes. “Then kissing each other won’t mean a thing, will it?”
The oven timer beeps loud enough for us to hear it. Vanessa gets up to go and deal with it.
“Well, that was surreal,” I decide.
“Yeah.”
Fitz moves to sit on the very edge of the sofa by Luna’s back legs. The dog gives him a dirty look that wouldn’t be out of place on a cat’s face but looks kind of comical on hers. He doesn’t take the hint and moves. I don’t think he’s even noticed because he’s staring at his clasped hands.
“Fitz?”
