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“It’s anyone’s guess,” said Evie. “Sometimes they strand themselves when they’re sick or by accident. And then there’s other more sinister stuff like seismic exploration for offshore windfarms. Stuart used to talk about it all the time. When underwater pulses of sound are used to survey the seafloor, the noise can disorient and frighten sea life, pushing them off course or worse.”
Fiona tore the mushrooms off her pizza slice. “And who’s getting lots of offshore windfarms? Us.” She sighed. “Great, now I’ve got the morbs.”
“The what?” asked Sunita.
“The morbs,” said Fiona. “It’s a Victorian term I heard on set. Means feeling melancholy.”
Evie did a double take. “Well, I hope the windfarms didn’t cause the beaching, ’cause as wild as last night was, I don’t think my heart could go through it again.”
Sunita quirked a brow. “Whoa. Nick’s hug must’ve been something!”
Fiona paused, mid-mushroom cull. “He hugged you?”
“We were celebrating. Everyone was.”
“He almost kissed her.” Sunita’s cheeky declaration drew an audible gasp from Fiona.
“No, he didn’t!” corrected Evie. “We pulled back from the hug and…kinda froze like our minds needed a minute to catch up to our bodies.”
“Ooh, I bet.” Sunita’s smirk provoked a head shake from Evie.
“There was absolutely nothing sexual going on.”
“Okay, but did you want there to be?” Optimism blooming in her eyes, Fiona leaned closer. “I think so.”
“Fi!”
The corners of her mouth, tinted Bordeaux rouge, tipped upward. “What? Might as well come out and say what I’m thinking. You and Nick saved an orca together. If that’s not a bonding moment, what is? It was life tri-humping over death!”
Sunita laughed. “Tri-humping? You mean triumphing, right?”
“Both!” Fiona squealed. “After a brush with death, there’s nothing more primal or life-affirming than hot sex.”
A blush heated Evie’s face as she confiscated Fiona’s wine bottle and teasingly checked the label. “What are you drinking? Thank god you have tomorrow off!”
“Joke all you want, but I will not bite my tongue.” Fiona’s voice grew uncharacteristically loud. “You and Nick were—are—great together. The whole whale tale proves it—again.”
“You’re biased.” Evie returned the wine to the table.
“Fuck yeah I am! I’m a selfish cow who only wants her bestie and bro-in-law to kiss and makeup already!”
“I knew it! All the pained glances, all the ‘You should talk to him, Evie.’” Lifting her hair, she examined the ends. “It’s not that simple, Fi.”
“Isn’t it? C’mon. I saw how he looked at you in the café the other day. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
“He was being friendly.”
“And flirty!”
“By discussing quiche?” asked Evie.
Sunita laughed. “Nothing screams ‘fuck me’ like an eggy tart.”
“I know what I saw.” Fiona pouted. “Evie, you can be honest with us, you know. Hell, you used to be.”
“I still am!”
“No, you’re not,” snapped Fiona. “Not since Nick flew in.”
