She grinned and rolled her eyes. “He’s incorrigible.”

I was delighted that she’d found such a great guy in Jake; she’d been unhappy for so long before him. I smiled and let out a steady breath as Luke’s absence gave me more space for my mind and body.

“Anyway, back to sex with Richard. What’s the deal?” she asked, turning to me and pulling me further away from my thoughts of Luke. Haven and I rarely talked about my feelings for Luke directly. As teenagers, we’d discussed it, but as adults, we skirted around it, aware of the volatility of the subject. I loved our world together—our bond, our shared experience—and I didn’t want to destroy our family. I wanted to find someone special, someone who thought I was more than sister material. Haven had done it, and it had given me inspiration that I could, too.

There was no way Haven was going to give up on the subject of Richard. She wanted me to be happy even more than I did. “It was okay. It wasn’t earth shattering. It wasn’t awful.” Richard was such a nice guy that I wanted it to be better, and with a little work, I was sure it could be.

She twisted her mouth as she considered my confession. “I think sex can improve as a couple gets to know each other, and you held off a long time. Maybe it was too much pressure.”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. So, we’ll see.” I desperately wanted her to be right, but I was worried Richard was too nice a guy. I wanted to be fucked properly. I needed a guy who knew what he wanted—what I wanted—and made it all happen. Richard had been . . . careful.

“And he’s so nice to you,” Haven said.

“Exactly. He totally is.” I was determined not to reject Richard just because he wasn’t Luke. I’d been doing that for too many years.

I was ready for my happily ever after.

Luke

I stayed at Haven’s until she kicked me out at just gone midnight. Earlier in the evening, I’d offered to take Ash home, but she’d refused. I’d not seen much of her lately, and I could have done with a talk. I couldn’t remember the last time it had just been her and me. We used to meet for lunch or after work sometimes, but it had been ages. When I’d hugged her hello earlier, I’d realized that it was her I could smell in the church the previous day. I’d never noticed the perfume that surrounded her, probably because she was just Ash scented to me.

I quietly opened the front door of the house Emma and I shared, trying to turn my key as slowly as possible in the lock, to avoid the overly loud clunk it made. It was late, and she had an early shift the next morning at the hospital.

I didn’t switch on any lights and quietly got undressed to my boxers and slid under the blankets.

“Hey,” she said.

I’d been sure she would be asleep.

“Having trouble sleeping?” I asked.

She turned over to her side, facing me. “Yeah, a little. How was Sunday dinner?”

“Good. Everyone asked after you.” It wasn’t entirely true, or even slightly true, but I was sure they had meant to ask after her.

“That’s nice,” she replied.

I sighed and slid my hand behind my head, my eyes drawn to the light of the streetlamps bleeding into the room from the edges of our window blind. The atmosphere was thick with the unspoken words of a conversation we were about to have.

“Did you enjoy the wedding?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure.” I’d deliberately avoided the subject since her tears during the photographs on Saturday. “Haven cooked duck for dinner. We should try it sometime. It was good. She’s turning into quite the chef.”

“Sounds like marriage suits her. You ever think about whether it would suit you, too?” she asked.

My skin started to itch, and I needed some water. I pulled the bedcovers off me to go and get a drink. “Why would I? We’re happy as we are,” I said as I wandered into the bathroom, willing her to drop the subject.

“Marriage is the next step for two people who are happy and in love, isn’t it?” she asked, raising her voice slightly so I could still hear her clearly, despite the rush of the faucet. I felt as if I’d just stepped in quicksand. There was pressure all over my body, as if I were being squeezed between two concrete walls—like the garbage compactor scene in Star Wars. I could do with a couple of Jedi mind tricks right at this moment.

“I don’t see why.” I hoped that would be the end of it, but knew it wouldn’t be. This conversation felt as though it was taking us down a one-way street. I brushed my teeth again, wanting to give Emma time to fall asleep. Why had she brought this up? Things were just fine.

I stuck the toothbrush back in the jar, rinsed my mouth and went back into the bedroom. She was staring at me.

“You’ve never thought about us getting married?” she asked again, more directly this time.

“I said that I didn’t. I don’t lie to you, Emma.” I slipped back under the blankets and lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, willing the conversation to be over.

“You don’t want to be married before we have children?”

Jesus, now kids were part of the equation? “Now we’re talking about children?”

“We need to talk about this stuff, Luke. I don’t want to be just your roommate. Haven’s married now. And she and Jake were together no time at all before he proposed.”

“And it works for them.”

“But you don’t think it would work for us?” she asked.

I scrubbed my hands over my face. “It’s late. I don’t want to talk about this now. I need to get to sleep. And you have an early start. Let’s discuss it another time, if you think it’s important.”

“If I think it’s important? Of course it’s important. We can’t stay like we are,” she said. “You can be a real prick at times.”

“You’re the one bringing this up out of nowhere in the middle of the night.”

“Out of nowhere? Are you fucking kidding me? We’ve been living together for nearly three years. Look around, Luke. Everyone’s getting married. People live together, they get married and then they have kids. Why do you think you’re the exception?”

“So you want to get married because everyone else does? Sounds like excellent reasoning.” The litigator in me instinctively wanted to win the argument, regardless of the merits and demerits of what was being said.

“I want to get married because I love you, you fucking idiot. I want to have kids with you because I want to have your children. Maybe not today, but one day. Jesus, Luke, why is this a shock?”

I couldn’t argue with someone who was telling me they loved me, even if they spat the words out. I kept scanning through memories of conversations we’d had over the years, trying to find one where we’d talked about marriage. I couldn’t think of a single one. I’d always assumed she was as unbothered by it as I was. Had I been wrong? Had I led her on? I lowered my voice and asked, “But why are you bringing this up now?”

She took a breath. “I want us to move on, take the next step of our lives together. I don’t understand why you are so keen for everything to stay the same.”

“I’m not sure what to say. This isn’t something . . .” I didn’t know how to end my sentence. Something I ever want. Something I think I want. Something I have thought about? I didn’t want to hurt Emma, but I didn’t see that in my future.

I needed to talk to someone other than her about this. I wanted to speak to Haven or Ash.

“Do you love me?” she asked when I didn’t finish my sentence.

“Of course I do. I mean, we’ve been together for—”

“This is it, babe. This is what people do. They get married. I know that guys don’t like to think they’re getting older, but we are. All of us. We’re not kids playing house anymore.”

Had my parents thought like this? Had one of them wanted to get married and suggested it to the other and then they’d decided, rationally, that it was the right step? I just couldn’t see it. I’d always felt that they were on a different path. I’d never seen my relationship with Emma as comparable with theirs. Something between them had meant they had to get married. If Emma and I didn’t feel that we had to get married, then why should we? It didn’t mean I didn’t love her. Just that we were different from other couples.