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cheesecake in mind for tomorrow. I wanted Beth to give me her seal of approval. She was the best baker this side of the Atlantic.
    “So if you’re cooking, does that mean you get to invite guests?” he asked.
    My stomach lurched. I’d been insensitive to mention it and then not invite him. I just wasn’t sure I was ready. Luke would probably want to talk about Emma, and I wasn’t sure how that would affect me. If he announced that he was going to marry her, I was pretty sure I would want to excuse myself and take to my bed for a week. Having Richard there would . . . complicate things.
    And anyway, it felt too early. Haven’s husband, Jake, had started coming to Sunday night dinners very quickly, but normally, casual boyfriends and girlfriends didn’t make an appearance. There wasn’t any rule about it, but that’s how it had always been. “I think Haven has some stuff going on that she wants to talk about, so I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to come along tomorrow. Maybe another time?”
    “I’d like to meet your friends,” he said. “Perhaps we could have them over to your place one Sunday. I could help you cook.”
    I nodded and concentrated on pulling apart my bread.
    “What about next weekend?” he asked.
    “I don’t think it’s happening. Haven’s away, I think.” I was lying, and I wasn’t quite sure why. All I knew was I wasn’t ready to introduce him to my family yet.
    “Okay, so we should go away for a weekend then. Maybe the Lake District?” he asked.
    “That sounds really nice.” I meant it. I did like Richard, and I enjoyed spending time with him. He was kind and attentive, and he liked me. Maybe a little distance from London and Luke would be what I needed.

 
    Luke
    “Did I interrupt anything?” I asked Haven as she opened the door to her flat. I’d arrived early for Sunday dinner. I wanted to speak to her about Emma.
    “No, just honeymooners having wild sex on every surface. That’s all.”
    “Lalalala,” I sang as I covered my ears, following her down the hallway. “Stop it. Or I’m not going to be able to look at you, and we need to talk. Have you got a beer?” I asked as we stepped into the kitchen. I headed straight to the fridge. I rarely talked about relationship stuff with anyone. It had been more difficult to talk to Ash than I’d expected, though our brief discussion had helped. I now knew I couldn’t marry Emma just to keep her happy, as Ash had suggested. I had to want it. Hopefully, alcohol would help my words come easier.
    “There are a few different kinds in there. I think Jake got you the one you like,” Haven said, stirring something in a bowl. Another good thing about my sister being married was that there was always beer at her place now. “I’m doing cheese straws.”
    I took the lid off my drink and slumped onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “Do you want a hand?” I asked.
    “Ash is cooking. This is just for fun. You concentrate on telling me what’s going on with you and Emma.”
    I drew my brows together. “How do you know I want to talk about me and Emma?”
    “Because I’m psychic,” she replied. “And I know you. I know how you get when you’re unhappy.”
    I scowled but she wasn’t looking, too focused on the pan in front of her. “You think I’m unhappy?”
    “Are you telling me you’re not?”
    I thought about it. How long did she think I’d been unhappy for? This was news to me. Before Emma voiced her desire to move things on in our relationship, I’d never seen us as unhappy together; I’d not thought I was miserable.
    “Emma wants to get married,” I blurted out. Haven met my eyes. She rolled her lips together as if she were stopping words from tumbling out and slowly nodded.
    “Don’t you have anything to say about that?” I was expecting a bigger reaction from her. I wanted to know if she was as concerned about breaking up our routine as I was.
    “Well, do you want to marry