He caught my eye. “Notquiteclassic...”
I laughed. “Okay, maybe not quite. But they were head-over-heels.”
“Did they... I mean, was the pregnancy planned?”
“No. But they just... knew how they felt about each other. So they came home, got married, had Tash—my sister—then a couple of years later, I came along.”
“That’s amazing. They’re still together now?”
“Married twenty-two years and counting.”
Max ran a hand through his hair. “That is nuts.”
I beamed. I loved telling that story, subverting expectations. I would relate it as proudly as if it were my own.
“I mean, that’s setting... a ridiculously high bar,” Max said then.
“For who?”
“Only anyone you ever meet.”
Our eyes locked, and I felt a blush of heat spread over my cheeks.
But Max hadn’t seemed to notice. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if theyhadn’tgot pregnant on that holiday?”
“You mean, would they still be together?”
“Yeah. I guess I just... What if they’d each gone home, and lost touch, then met other people, and...?”
“I know. I might not even exist.”
He winced. “Sorry. Haven’t offended you, have I?”
I knew already that nothing Max said could offend me. Or if it did, it wouldn’t have been intentional. He seemed too nice for that. I shook my head. “Not at all. Actually, my mum and dad have talked about that loads. Thewhat-ifs.”
“I mean... if they were each other’s first loves... how do theyknow? That there’s no one else—”
“They just do.”
Our eyes met again then, but this time, Max got up to fetch us each another beer. “So, what do you want to be, Lucy? When you graduate.” He passed me a bottle, then sat next to me on the bed, our shoulders touching like we’d known each other for years.
I thanked him and swigged. “A writer.”
“What kind of writer?”
“I want to write novels.” I smiled. “Do you know what kind of lawyer you want to be?”
“Commercial,” he said, without hesitation.
I tried to look as though I understood, then gave up and laughed. “Sorry. That means absolutely nothing to me.”
“Let’s just say,” he said, “commercial law pays well.”
I nodded. “Is that why you’re doing it? For the money?”
“Kind of.” He shrugged. “My mum never had much, so—”
“Sorry, it wasn’t a criticism.”
