Seph shrugged. “It’s living with Max and Vic. They make each other happy.”
“Even when she loses her temper at him and he goes into bear mode?”
“I think they enjoy that. I am looking to move out, you know?” he said. “I know everyone thinks I crashed their party, but I really couldn’t stay living on my own anymore.”
My heart broke a little.
“You could’ve stayed with me,” I said. “I know it’s only one bedroom but we could’ve managed it somehow.”
Seph smiled and hugged me into him. “I know. But Max and Vic own a six bedroomed monstrosity. You’ve got a one bed apartment with a kitchen-diner and one bathroom. It was never going to work.”
“You want to live on your own now though? What’s changed?” I said gently. He was a thinker, my twin, sometimes too much of one.
“I’m going to buy something that needs a bit doing to it. Not one of Ava’s demo jobs, but something that needs redecorating, a new kitchen, bathroom—that sort of thing. Then I’ve got something to focus on and it’ll be mine.” His face was bright and I could see the genuine excitement.
“When did you decide this?”
“When you were being swept off your feet. I’ve been thinking about what to do for ages. Max’s was temporary. This feels like the right thing to do. Speaking of which—haven’t you got work to be doing or has love addled your brain so you don’t know how to lawyer anymore?”
“I’m not in love with him. It’s not that serious,” I said, laughing.
Seph shook his head and closed his browser. “You’re in denial.”
“No.”
“Yes. And don’t forget, the last time we had a yes/no argument we were eight and I won, so give up now.”
“There’s absolutely no logic to what you’ve just said.”
“That’s fine. But you’re in love with Owen and denying it won’t make it any less true,” he said, pulling a file out of his desk drawer.
I really did have work to do, but right now I needed to put my brother right on how I felt.
“I can’t be in love with him. I haven’t known him long enough.”
“Because that matters? Look at Mum and Dad and how long they knew each other before she came back to England with him. You’re just scared.”
I didn’t respond. “I’ll see you later. I need to get onto Paul Janelle about the Scriver case.”
“Chicken!” he called to my back as I left the room.
* * *
I didn’t think I was in love. How do you describe an emotion? Poets and novelists and songwriters had been trying to describe love for centuries, maybe longer, and clearly no one had succeeded because they were still trying to do it. I thought I felt more for Owen than friendship and lust, that the bubbles in my stomach before I met him for dinner or coffee were more than just indigestion, but love?
Confirmation of this would not come from a legal document or Google, so instead I phoned Claire. My elder sister would give me a straight to the point answer with no bullshit. She answered on the third ring, a gurgling baby in the background.
“Claire, how did you know you were in love with Killian?”
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Oh holy fuck. You’re having a moment, let me sit down.” I heard rustling and a muttering of some sorts to the baby. “Right, what did you say?”
“How did you know you were in love with Killian?”
“That’s what I thought you said and wished you hadn’t. It’s a really difficult question and if you’re looking for a precedent, it might not happen.”
“Why?”
“I knew I was in love with Killian the first time when we were at college because he was the centre of everything. I wanted to be with him, I thought about him all the time, he made me happy,” she said. “The second time, I knew I was in love with him because I didn’t want to murder him anymore.”
