“Hardly magical.”
“We’re talking you here. Celibate since high school.”
Nat spat out another, “Hardly,” then considered with an eye roll, “almost.”
Foley abandoned eating. “Dish.”
Head shake. “No.”
“Nat.”
“I can’t say.”
“You’re having a fling with a person you can’t talk about. Holy fuck, it’s not Roger, is it?”
Nat’s cutlery chinked on her plate. “Roger! What would make you say that?”
“All those interviews about the homeless problem, about the plans for the hospital expansion, about beach erosion.” Foley folded her arms and glared across the table.
“Work, that’s work. I wouldn’t touch Roger with one hundred ply rubber gloves on. Plus he has about twelve kids, doesn’t he?” Nat gulped her wine and poured another glass.
“He has four and Roger wouldn’t touch you either. He likes people who can dress themselves properly.” Like maybe Gabriella. “I only said it to get back at you for the Hugh comment. Dish.”
“I can’t. I can only tell you it’s not serious. It’s just a bit of fun. Happened when I least expected it and he’s not married.”
Foley picked up her fork and stabbed the last piece of steak. Nat had an off the record romance and she felt cheated of knowing all its ins and outs. “He’s someone you met at work. You don’t do anything else. Tell me about the earring.”
Nat’s face went bright red. “He likes to nibble my ear.”
Foley almost laughed, but she was mad with Nat for holding out on her, and conscious she’d managed to turn the tables, but only just, she needed to keep the pressure on Nat. “Only the one?”
Nat nodded. “It’s his favourite side.”
“Oh my God.” Foley looked at the ceiling. “You didn’t think to take them both off.”
Nat shrugged and touched the earring. “The other one is at work. It’s a signal we use. If I’m wearing both he can’t be familiar with me.”
Nat looked so awkwardly proud, Foley couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s so weird. That’s so … wow. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Nat cut a piece of steak. “You’ve been so unhappy, so restless. I didn’t want to make you feel any more out of sorts.”
“That’s pathetic.” Though that’s exactly what it would’ve done. Nat having her ear regularly nibbled by some guy whose tongue-lashings needed to be kept secret. Foley shuddered. “You could’ve told me.”
Nat did a fork point. “Like you’re telling me now.”
Table turned. Foley sighed and broke eye contact.
“Oh no.” Nat flung herself into the back of her chair and it creaked ominously. “You’re not. Tell me you’re not. I thought he’d gone away.”
Foley kept her eyes lowered. She rolled a paper napkin in her palms. “It’s not what you think.” She jumped when Nat slammed her hand on the table.
“It’s exactly what I think, you’re seeing Drum.”
“As a friend. We’re friends.”
“Have you slept with him?”
“Jesus, Nat. No. Friends, I said friends.”