“You okay?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound normal. I started to walk back toward the hospital. “So what are you working on at the moment?” I was desperate not to mention what had just happened, and hopeful that he’d not sensed any kind of atmosphere that I’d singlehandedly created.
Luke was happily diverted. “You know I can’t tell you that because it’s classified.”
I laughed. He loved to pretend his job was slightly more interesting than it was. “You’re such a dork. It doesn’t make you sound like James Bond, you know.”
“What does it make me sound like?”
“Like a frustrated lawyer who is trying to be wilder than he is,” I said.
He grinned. “You’re killing me. You know all my secrets.”
My stomach lilted. It was true. I knew his and he knew mine.
As we arrived at the hospital entrance, he hugged me. “Don’t let Richard change things between us,” he said over my shoulder, his tone darker than before, like it had been when we were holding hands earlier. He pulled back. “Will I see you Sunday?”
His words, his nearness, his solemnity flustered me. “Yeah, I think.”
“Promise me?” he asked, his eyes intently fixed on mine.
“Okay. I’ll see you at Haven and Jake’s.”
The black cloud over him seemed to pass as quickly as it arrived. He grinned, ruffled my hair and stalked off down the street. I stood for a few seconds, more words in my mouth than I’d let escape. What had he meant about Richard changing things between us? I was desperate to know what he was thinking.
Luke
It had been a while since Ash had had a boyfriend. Everything was moving too quickly. Emma wanted things to change between us; Haven was married; Ash was getting serious with someone. I longed for things to be how they were. I wanted Haven and Ash to wake up hungover in the guest room; I wanted the three of us to have dinner together, for the three of us to have the easy laughs that I’d grown up with. None of that had happened recently. I wanted to be able to hold Ash’s hand because we had been friends for forever, not pull it away because her boyfriend arrived.
Because Emma would be home and I didn’t want her to bring up getting married again, I’d worked late. Not. I’d thought of little else but her recent declaration, but I didn’t have any solution for her. All I could focus on was how marriage would take away things from my life, not add them. It was almost ten, and I was just heading home. Hopefully, she was asleep.
I let myself in and immediately heard the sounds of the television. My heart sank.
“Hey,” Emma called.
“Hi,” I said, wandering into the living room.
“There’s leftover spaghetti in the refrigerator,” she said.
“Thanks.” I shrugged out of my jacket, pulled off my tie and headed to the kitchen.
Emma got up from the sofa and followed me. “Do you want me to heat it up for you?” She never got me dinner unless it was her day off. We both tended to fend for ourselves when we were working.
“I’ve got it, thanks.”
She pulled open the fridge, grabbed a beer and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile.
“No problem. There’s never going to be a good time to discuss this, you know.” she said.
I took a deep breath, and I tipped my head back. I really didn’t want to have this conversation. “Emma, I’m really tired.”
“I know, but there’s barely ever a time when one of us isn’t shattered. If we wait until we’re both full of energy, we’re going to carry on like this for years.” Her voice was softer than usual, but I could tell she wasn’t about to let this go.
“We’ve done okay ‘like this’ so far. I like my life.” I was happy with things how they were. I was about to make partner. Work would be crazy for the next few years. And her job was really demanding—where did she think we were going to fit in kids? No longer hungry, I took my beer and went to collapse on the sofa.
Emma followed. “It’s time to move to the next stage in our lives. Don’t you feel that?”
I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t know what she’d see in me. Fear, maybe.
“I’m happy as I am. I thought you were too.” I’d never led her to believe I wanted anything more; at least, I didn’t think I had.
“I want to get married and have children,” she replied. She didn’t say whether or not she was happy now, as if it didn’t matter. “Don’t you?” she asked.
I could do nothing but focus on what I wouldn’t have if I married Emma. Particularly if we had kids. We would give up our freedom. What I loved about Emma was that she was independent and she didn’t need anything from me. If I became her husband and then a father . . . Those were roles that provided and protected. I’d done that my whole life with Haven. At the time, I’d wanted to do it, though my parents’ death had meant I’d had to. But there was nothing in me that wanted to take on that responsibility with Emma, or anyone else. It would change our entire relationship.
“This is important to me,” Emma said, kneeling on the sofa, facing me. “I want a family. I want us to be a family.”
I focused on my heartbeat banging against my chest. Was I too young to have a heart attack? Haven was my family. Haven and Ash. And now Jake and his sister, Beth, had widened that group, but Emma had never really become a part of that. I didn’t want to create a family that would pull me away from the one I already had. The banging in my chest got louder. I threw back some more beer.
“I’ve given you time and space. I’ve not been demanding or high maintenance. And now I need you to realize what you have with me.”
“But isn’t that why we work? Because we’re independent? I didn’t know you were wanting us to be different, waiting for us to change.” I didn’t want or need anything else from her.
“I want us to be a unit. A family. Our children and us. At the moment, I’m constantly competing with Haven and Ash, and that’s not fair.”
She was right—I had a unit. Haven and Ash. I turned toward her. “So this isn’t about getting married—this is about you not wanting me to spend time with my sister?”
“Jesus, that’s not what I said. I just feel second place all the time. I don’t want a roommate. I want someone who I can grow old with, someone to share a life with.”
Whenever I imagined getting older, it was Haven, Ash and me I thought of. Had I led Emma on all these years? She looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something that would make her feel better, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t lie to her, and I had nothing truthful that she wanted to hear.
My conversation with Ash had helped me realize that this was more than me not wanting things to change. It was about me not wanting to get married—not only because I didn’t believe in marriage—but because marriage wasn’t right for me, and definitely not for me and Emma. We didn’t work in that way.
Haven, Ash and I were a team. We were a family. Jake had understood that from the beginning, and he’d become like a brother to me in a short space of time. Emma hadn’t got it yet, and I wasn’t sure she ever would.
“Are you ever going to grow up? You can’t hang out with your sister your whole life. I thought things might change after she got married. She can move on. She can hold down a relationship. What are you so scared of?”
I hated arguing. Life was too short. I regretted every argument I’d ever had with my parents before they died. I wished I could take it all back. For years, words I’d said to them—just typical teenager stuff—had swirled around my head, haunting me. The fact that Haven felt similarly made it slightly more bearable. Our pain was shared.
I stood up, wanting to create space between us.