Bea chokes on a sip of Fin’s water, her eyes simultaneously flicking to the table in front of me as though confirming the lack of sandwich.
‘Is the dinner table conversation always this enlightening?’
‘It’s usually worse,’ says Fin with a sigh. ‘You know how bad he is.’ She hooks a thumb in Rory’s direction then flips it so it’s facing me. ‘It looks like he’s the same.’
‘Din’nae worry. You have to give Kit at least a month’s notice to make dinner plans with him. What was so important, anyway?’ he demands, ensuring all eyes turn my way. ‘Where do you usually slink off to on Friday night?’
Nowhere I’ve any intention of sharing.
‘I don’tslinkanywhere. And what do you care? I’m here now for this lovely bonding experience.’ I find myself adjusting my cuffs to avoid his gaze.
‘You should bring someone to dinner next time,’ says Fin. ‘A friend? They don’t have to be a significant other or anything.’ From Rory, this would’ve sounded like a taunt, but from Fin, it’s a not so subtle hint.
‘ ‘Cause he prefers them insignificant,’ Rory deadpans.
This happens to be the truth. I also like them plural, but I add neither comment.
‘How about you?’ I ask, turning the questioning to Bea. ‘Will you be bringing someone to dinner next time? Significant or otherwise?’
‘Good idea,’ interjects Fin. ‘We should definitely make dinner plans when Jonathon gets here.’
‘Your boyfriend?’ I don’t miss her briefest of frowns.
‘Yes,’ pipes in Fin. ‘A long-term, long-distance, on-and-off relationship. Hell, I didn’t say that, did I?’ she says, looking horrified. ‘I’m sorry, Bea. You know I shouldn’t drink red wine.’
‘And what is it now?’ I ask, oh-so reasonably. ‘On or off?’
‘On,’ she replies emphatically. ‘Definitely on.’
