“Oh my God!” Annie laughed. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not funny, but it’s the kind of stuff you read about in women’s magazines. I mean, can you imagine? Well, I suppose you don’t have to. How awful for your sister. Did they stay in touch?”

“As a matter of fact, they did. They’re godparents to one another’s children.”

“Your family makes my family seem terribly dull.”

“I’d have taken dull. I’ve spent my adult life trying to make Celeste’s home life as uneventful as possible.”

“Ah well, now there we are similar. I classically stayed in a bad marriage to ensure that my children didn’t come from a broken home.”

“How admirable of you,” said John insincerely.

“Wasn’t it? After all my years of faking happiness, I have recently discovered that my kids knew exactly what was going on and grew up knowing that their dad screwed around and their mum put up with it. What a fabulous advertisement I am for feminism.”

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. We’re all just trying not to fuck up our kids in our own way.”

“I worry that by trying not to fuck them up I might have fucked them up more,” said Annie.

“I think your boys have got a lot to be proud of.”

“Do you? That’s very nice of you to say so.”

“I’m a nice guy.”

“I’m starting to believe it.”

“What would convince you?”

“If you let me buy Saltwater Nook.”

—

They started the meal with a sharing platter of black bean nachos, the fiery chili quelled by a cooling guacamole with fresh coriander and the richness of the cheese cut through by a sweet tomato salsa. John was interested in Annie’s take on the food and fascinated by how she could identify single ingredients from the impossible jumble before them.

The jug of sangria they shared was as potent as it was fruity, the addition of cinnamon and brandy lending itself to the cold November night.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” said Annie.

“I don’t drink often—Christmas and birthdays usually—but I’ll make an exception tonight.”

“I wouldn’t want to lead you astray,” Annie remarked, tongue in cheek.

“What a pity,” said John, staring at her in a way that made her want to flash her boobs at him.

By the time their main courses arrived—fish tacos for Annie and beef enchiladas for John—the conversation had moved on to John’s various brushes with the law before he found peace in his career and then fatherhood. Annie was feeling warm and relaxed, and like she might tell John all her deepest secrets.

“I’d better not have too much more,” said Annie. “I’ve got work in the morning. And I need to be on top form, I’ve got Billy in tomorrow morning for a trial.”

“Billy?”