“I did not smile.”
“You absolutely smiled.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“You never hang up. You’re too nosy.”
Unfortunately, this is true.
I keep scrolling.
Heath in sunglasses.
Heath asleep in the blue beanie.
Heath glaring at strawberries.
Heath sprawled on Mark’s chest like he is staking a claim.
Sophie lets out a dreamy sigh.
“Honestly, I still maintain this account is catnip for middle-aged women.”
“He is gay,” I remind her.
“Yes, and I am married. We have established that no one is getting lucky here.”
I snort.
Then Sophie says, “Actually, hold on.”
Her tone changes.
Less teasing.
More analytical.
I recognise that tone too. It is the one she uses when Jamie has hidden a crayon in a radiator and she’s triangulating damage.
“What?”
“Check out the location tags.”
I frown.
“What location tags?”
“The Whitstable ones.”
I scroll back to the latest post.
Whitstable.
I had noticed that already, vaguely, but not enough to think about it.
Sophie says, “Now keep going.”
I scroll.
