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I pass it to him. “It was me who hit your father last year.”

The sandwich is halfway to Sol’s mouth. It stays there as he blinks and stares as if I’ve grown three heads. “You punched my dad?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I caught him stealing the VHF from the Sirona. That is what I thought was happening to all the parts. Why I didn’t realise you were selling them to pay his debts.”

“Dav stole the radio?”

“He tried. And he said he’d have bought it back before the sun rose, but I didn’t believe him, and I was just…I do not know, Sol. I was so tired of him hurting you that I lost my head for a moment.”

Sol sets his plate on the counter and rubs his face. “You’d have shocked me less if you’d told me you really are banging the hot farmer up the road.”

“I am. Actually, no. He is banging me.”

Sol is right. That confession does shock him more.

He’s quiet so long I rescue his abandoned sandwich and press it back into his hands. “Eat. So you can close your mouth.”

Sol eats.

Then he slides the empty plate into the dishwasher and turns to face me again. “How’s it working out for you? The banging…I mean, not the banging. All of it. But we can talk about the banging if you want.”

“I don’t need to talk to you about sex, Sol. I am okay, I like it very much.”

“Good, isn’t it?”

“It is better than that.” A smile creeps over my face, wry and warm, and it’s hard to temper it. But I have more to say before Sol gets overexcited about my rejuvenated sex life. “I am sorry I never told you about Dav.”

Sol absorbs that, a small smile playing on his face too. “Not sorry you decked him, though, are you?”

“I want to be, if that counts.”

Sol laughs. “It does. Now tell me all about getting jiggy with Whitlock’s brother.”

“He has a name.”

“I know, I’ve met him. He’s lovely, inside and out, I can tell.”

Sol speaks with absolute sincerity and I can only nod, slowly, as everything I’ve felt and done with Poet seems to hit me at once.

I lean against the counter, smothering a yawn with my hand.

Sol takes a closer look at me and glances at my wrist.

“I am fine,” I tell him. “Just tired.”

“For fun reasons?”

“Very much.”

“Good.” Sol nudges his shoulder to mine. “But I don’t want to drag you out today if you need a rest. I’ll be fine on my own. You were only coming to stop me getting fleeced by the chefs.”

It is true. Sol is so generous and kind he would give our catch away if he didn’t have to pay my wages. But he’s been better at standing his ground recently, and a nap on my oversized couch sounds like bliss.

I take Sol up on his offer and make tracks to go home.