She threw me a look. “I know, ‘don’t ask’, but seriously, spin? When did this start?” You should know that Nick was a surfing rugby player in his younger days. Surfing rugby players were not usually the type of guy you saw in spin class amongst the lycra-clad yummy mummies and the super-fit gay guys. I couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d said he was going to barre class.

“One of his friends … do you know Dean?”

I shook my head “no”, then snapped my fingers when I recognised the name. “Yes, divorced guy, speedos, lots of body hair.” I described the guy I’d met at their Australia Day barbecue-slash-pool party the year before.

“That’s him. So, Dean started going to spin to meet women.”

“Ewww.”

“Yeah, and he wanted a wing man, so he roped in Nick one week and, now, Nick goes to spin.”

I made a funny expression, which said “ick” and “weird” and “whatever floats your boat” all at once. It made Lins laugh.

“But the pizza afterwards? What’s the point of going to spin if you’re just going to stuff your face with fat and dough?”

“I think that’s the only reason Nick does go. Well, that and he feels sorry for Dean.”

“Fair enough.” She handed me a generous pour of one of the wines I’d brought. It was a sauvignon blanc from New Zealand. The second bottle was a pinot from California—not quite Chicago, but you see what I did there? New Zealand and the US—I was torturing myself with my wine choices.

Lins put the wine in the door of the fridge, then rummaged around for a bit until she came out with a stack of containers—olives, sundried tomatoes, marinated artichokes, and tzatziki—with a block of cheddar and a wheel of brie balanced on top.

“Okay with nibbles for dinner? I can’t be bothered cooking anything.”

“Yeah, totally.” Sometimes, Lins is my spirit animal as well as my bestie.

Without being asked, I went to the cupboard and pulled out some toasted almonds, dried apricots, and two types of crackers, and put them on the counter. I grabbed a giant tray from on top of the fridge—I knew their kitchen as well as I knew my own—and Lins and I loaded up the tray.

We settled on either end of the couch with the food between us. Domino was curled up on an armchair opposite us, already asleep. “Okay, spill,” prompted Lins.

I told her as many details as I could remember about the conversation with Josh. She nodded and made the appropriate noises as I spoke, letting me know she was taking it all in and musing things over while she piled crackers high with cheese and munched.

“So, when you left Josh in Hawaii, you really thought you’d just end up as friends?” she asked, wiping cracker crumbs from the corner of her mouth. The “left Josh in Hawaii” part stung a little, because it made it sound like I’d abandoned him, which I hadn’t.